Module 22
Basic Text Mining
Preliminaries
- Install these packages in R: {tm}, {SnowballC}, {curl}, {ggplot2}, {RColorBrewer}, {Rgraphviz}, {cluster}, {dendextend}, {wordcloud}
NOTE: Installing {Rgraphviz} may not be straightforward. If you cannot install directly, then run the followoing commands:
source("https://bioconductor.org/biocLite.R") # loads a of functions that allows us to access and install Bioconductor packages in addition to CRAN packages
biocLite("Rgraphviz", suppressUpdates = TRUE) # installs the {Rgraphviz} package and suppresses updating of other packages from BioconductorObjectives
In this module, we learn some basic tools for text mining in R.
Text Mining
The main R package for text mining, {tm}, provides a pretty comprehensive set of functions for text processing. The basic concept is that of a corpus, which is a collection of texts that we perform our analyses on. A corpus might be a collection of news articles or twitter posts or the published works of an author. Within each corpus we will have separate documents, which might be articles, stories, or individual posts. Each document is treated as a separate entity or record.
We can start with a set of text documents saved in the same folder and use the command DirSource() to identify the source of documents for our corpus. Alternatively, we can use the VectorSource() command if our documents are already in an R vector. Below, we will create corpora from both types of sources.
library(tm)## Loading required package: NLPlibrary(SnowballC)Creating a Corpus from a Folder of Text Files
We will start by downloading some texts to process from Project Guttenberg. Go to this URL, search for “Charles Darwin” and download the text versions of The Origin of Species, The Voyage of the Beagle, and Sexual Selection and the Descent of Man. Place these in a folder on your computer… I used “~/Desktop/texts”.
path <- "~/Desktop/texts"
dirCorpus <- Corpus(DirSource(path)) # read in text documents... within each document, content is a vector of character strings
summary(dirCorpus)## Length Class Mode
## origin.txt 2 PlainTextDocument list
## sexselect.txt 2 PlainTextDocument list
## voyage.txt 2 PlainTextDocument list# inspect(dirCorpus)
dirCorpus[[1]]$meta # show the metadata for document 1## author : character(0)
## datetimestamp: 2017-11-19 14:43:37
## description : character(0)
## heading : character(0)
## id : origin.txt
## language : en
## origin : character(0)head(dirCorpus[[1]]$content) # show the start of document 1## [1] "The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Origin of Species, by Charles Darwin\n\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or\nre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\nwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\n\n\nTitle: On the Origin of Species\n 1st Edition\n\nAuthor: Charles Darwin\n\nRelease Date: Release Date: March, 1998 [EBook #1228]\nPosting Date: November 23, 2009\n\nLanguage: English\n\n\n*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by Sue Asscher\n\n\n\n\n\nON THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES.\n\nOR THE PRESERVATION OF FAVOURED RACES IN THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.\n\n\nBy Charles Darwin, M.A.,\n\nFellow Of The Royal, Geological, Linnaean, Etc., Societies;\n\nAuthor Of 'Journal Of Researches During H.M.S. Beagle's Voyage Round The\nWorld.'\n\n\nLONDON:\n\nJOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.\n\n1859.\n\n\nDown, Bromley, Kent,\n\nOctober 1st, 1859.\n\n\n\n\"But with regard to the material world, we can at least go so far as\nthis--we can perceive that events are brought about not by insulated\ninterpositions of Divine power, exerted in each particular case, but by\nthe establishment of general laws.\"\n\nW. Whewell: Bridgewater Treatise.\n\n\n\n\"To conclude, therefore, let no man out of a weak conceit of sobriety,\nor an ill-applied moderation, think or maintain, that a man can search\ntoo far or be too well studied in the book of God's word, or in the book\nof God's works; divinity or philosophy; but rather let men endeavour an\nendless progress or proficience in both.\"\n\nBacon: Advancement of Learning.\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n\n INTRODUCTION.\n\n\n CHAPTER 1. VARIATION UNDER DOMESTICATION.\n\n Causes of Variability.\n Effects of Habit.\n Correlation of Growth.\n Inheritance.\n Character of Domestic Varieties.\n Difficulty of distinguishing between Varieties and Species.\n Origin of Domestic Varieties from one or more Species.\n Domestic Pigeons, their Differences and Origin.\n Principle of Selection anciently followed, its Effects.\n Methodical and Unconscious Selection.\n Unknown Origin of our Domestic Productions.\n Circumstances favourable to Man's power of Selection.\n\n\n CHAPTER 2. VARIATION UNDER NATURE.\n\n Variability.\n Individual Differences.\n Doubtful species.\n Wide ranging, much diffused, and common species vary most.\n Species of the larger genera in any country vary more than the species\n of the smaller genera.\n Many of the species of the larger genera resemble varieties in being\n very closely, but unequally, related to each other, and in having\n restricted ranges.\n\n\n CHAPTER 3. STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE.\n\n Bears on natural selection.\n The term used in a wide sense.\n Geometrical powers of increase.\n Rapid increase of naturalised animals and plants.\n Nature of the checks to increase.\n Competition universal.\n Effects of climate.\n Protection from the number of individuals.\n Complex relations of all animals and plants throughout nature.\n Struggle for life most severe between individuals and varieties of the\n same species; often severe between species of the same genus.\n The relation of organism to organism the most important of all\n relations.\n\n\n CHAPTER 4. NATURAL SELECTION.\n\n Natural Selection: its power compared with man's selection, its power\n on characters of trifling importance, its power at all ages and on\n both sexes.\n Sexual Selection.\n On the generality of intercrosses between individuals of the same\n species.\n Circumstances favourable and unfavourable to Natural Selection,\n namely, intercrossing, isolation, number of individuals.\n Slow action.\n Extinction caused by Natural Selection.\n Divergence of Character, related to the diversity of inhabitants of\n any small area, and to naturalisation.\n Action of Natural Selection, through Divergence of Character and\n Extinction, on the descendants from a common parent.\n Explains the Grouping of all organic beings.\n\n\n CHAPTER 5. LAWS OF VARIATION.\n\n Effects of external conditions.\n Use and disuse, combined with natural selection; organs of flight and\n of vision.\n Acclimatisation.\n Correlation of growth.\n Compensation and economy of growth.\n False correlations.\n Multiple, rudimentary, and lowly organised structures variable.\n Parts developed in an unusual manner are highly variable: specific\n characters more variable than generic: secondary sexual characters\n variable.\n Species of the same genus vary in an analogous manner.\n Reversions to long-lost characters.\n Summary.\n\n\n CHAPTER 6. DIFFICULTIES ON THEORY.\n\n Difficulties on the theory of descent with modification.\n Transitions.\n Absence or rarity of transitional varieties.\n Transitions in habits of life.\n Diversified habits in the same species.\n Species with habits widely different from those of their allies.\n Organs of extreme perfection.\n Means of transition.\n Cases of difficulty.\n Natura non facit saltum.\n Organs of small importance.\n Organs not in all cases absolutely perfect.\n The law of Unity of Type and of the Conditions of Existence embraced\n by the theory of Natural Selection.\n\n\n CHAPTER 7. INSTINCT.\n\n Instincts comparable with habits, but different in their origin.\n Instincts graduated.\n Aphides and ants.\n Instincts variable.\n Domestic instincts, their origin.\n Natural instincts of the cuckoo, ostrich, and parasitic bees.\n Slave-making ants.\n Hive-bee, its cell-making instinct.\n Difficulties on the theory of the Natural Selection of instincts.\n Neuter or sterile insects.\n Summary.\n\n\n CHAPTER 8. HYBRIDISM.\n\n Distinction between the sterility of first crosses and of hybrids.\n Sterility various in degree, not universal, affected by close\n interbreeding, removed by domestication.\n Laws governing the sterility of hybrids.\n Sterility not a special endowment, but incidental on other\n differences.\n Causes of the sterility of first crosses and of hybrids.\n Parallelism between the effects of changed conditions of life and\n crossing.\n Fertility of varieties when crossed and of their mongrel offspring not\n universal.\n Hybrids and mongrels compared independently of their fertility.\n Summary.\n\n\n CHAPTER 9. ON THE IMPERFECTION OF THE GEOLOGICAL RECORD.\n\n On the absence of intermediate varieties at the present day.\n On the nature of extinct intermediate varieties; on their number.\n On the vast lapse of time, as inferred from the rate of deposition and\n of denudation.\n On the poorness of our palaeontological collections.\n On the intermittence of geological formations.\n On the absence of intermediate varieties in any one formation.\n On the sudden appearance of groups of species.\n On their sudden appearance in the lowest known fossiliferous strata.\n\n\n CHAPTER 10. ON THE GEOLOGICAL SUCCESSION OF ORGANIC BEINGS.\n\n On the slow and successive appearance of new species.\n On their different rates of change.\n Species once lost do not reappear.\n Groups of species follow the same general rules in their appearance\n and disappearance as do single species.\n On Extinction.\n On simultaneous changes in the forms of life throughout the world.\n On the affinities of extinct species to each other and to living\n species.\n On the state of development of ancient forms.\n On the succession of the same types within the same areas.\n Summary of preceding and present chapters.\n\n\n CHAPTER 11. GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION.\n\n Present distribution cannot be accounted for by differences in\n physical conditions.\n Importance of barriers.\n Affinity of the productions of the same continent.\n Centres of creation.\n Means of dispersal, by changes of climate and of the level of the\n land, and by occasional means.\n Dispersal during the Glacial period co-extensive with the world.\n\n\n CHAPTER 12. GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION--continued.\n\n Distribution of fresh-water productions.\n On the inhabitants of oceanic islands.\n Absence of Batrachians and of terrestrial Mammals.\n On the relation of the inhabitants of islands to those of the nearest\n mainland.\n On colonisation from the nearest source with subsequent modification.\n Summary of the last and present chapters.\n\n\n CHAPTER 13. MUTUAL AFFINITIES OF ORGANIC BEINGS: MORPHOLOGY:\n EMBRYOLOGY: RUDIMENTARY\n ORGANS.\n\n CLASSIFICATION, groups subordinate to groups.\n Natural system.\n Rules and difficulties in classification, explained on the theory of\n descent with modification.\n Classification of varieties.\n Descent always used in classification.\n Analogical or adaptive characters.\n Affinities, general, complex and radiating.\n Extinction separates and defines groups.\n MORPHOLOGY, between members of the same class, between parts of the\n same individual.\n EMBRYOLOGY, laws of, explained by variations not supervening at an\n early age, and being inherited at a corresponding age.\n RUDIMENTARY ORGANS; their origin explained.\n Summary.\n\n\n CHAPTER 14. RECAPITULATION AND CONCLUSION.\n\n Recapitulation of the difficulties on the theory of Natural Selection.\n Recapitulation of the general and special circumstances in its favour.\n Causes of the general belief in the immutability of species.\n How far the theory of natural selection may be extended.\n Effects of its adoption on the study of Natural history.\n Concluding remarks.\n\n\n\n\nON THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nWhen on board H.M.S. 'Beagle,' as naturalist, I was much struck with\ncertain facts in the distribution of the inhabitants of South America,\nand in the geological relations of the present to the past inhabitants\nof that continent. These facts seemed to me to throw some light on the\norigin of species--that mystery of mysteries, as it has been called by\none of our greatest philosophers. On my return home, it occurred to me,\nin 1837, that something might perhaps be made out on this question by\npatiently accumulating and reflecting on all sorts of facts which could\npossibly have any bearing on it. After five years' work I allowed myself\nto speculate on the subject, and drew up some short notes; these I\nenlarged in 1844 into a sketch of the conclusions, which then seemed to\nme probable: from that period to the present day I have steadily pursued\nthe same object. I hope that I may be excused for entering on these\npersonal details, as I give them to show that I have not been hasty in\ncoming to a decision.\n\nMy work is now nearly finished; but as it will take me two or three more\nyears to complete it, and as my health is far from strong, I have been\nurged to publish this Abstract. I have more especially been induced to\ndo this, as Mr. Wallace, who is now studying the natural history of\nthe Malay archipelago, has arrived at almost exactly the same general\nconclusions that I have on the origin of species. Last year he sent to\nme a memoir on this subject, with a request that I would forward it\nto Sir Charles Lyell, who sent it to the Linnean Society, and it is\npublished in the third volume of the Journal of that Society. Sir C.\nLyell and Dr. Hooker, who both knew of my work--the latter having read\nmy sketch of 1844--honoured me by thinking it advisable to publish, with\nMr. Wallace's excellent memoir, some brief extracts from my manuscripts.\n\nThis Abstract, which I now publish, must necessarily be imperfect. I\ncannot here give references and authorities for my several statements;\nand I must trust to the reader reposing some confidence in my accuracy.\nNo doubt errors will have crept in, though I hope I have always been\ncautious in trusting to good authorities alone. I can here give only\nthe general conclusions at which I have arrived, with a few facts in\nillustration, but which, I hope, in most cases will suffice. No one can\nfeel more sensible than I do of the necessity of hereafter publishing in\ndetail all the facts, with references, on which my conclusions have been\ngrounded; and I hope in a future work to do this. For I am well aware\nthat scarcely a single point is discussed in this volume on which facts\ncannot be adduced, often apparently leading to conclusions directly\nopposite to those at which I have arrived. A fair result can be obtained\nonly by fully stating and balancing the facts and arguments on both\nsides of each question; and this cannot possibly be here done.\n\nI much regret that want of space prevents my having the satisfaction of\nacknowledging the generous assistance which I have received from very\nmany naturalists, some of them personally unknown to me. I cannot,\nhowever, let this opportunity pass without expressing my deep\nobligations to Dr. Hooker, who for the last fifteen years has aided me\nin every possible way by his large stores of knowledge and his excellent\njudgment.\n\nIn considering the Origin of Species, it is quite conceivable that a\nnaturalist, reflecting on the mutual affinities of organic beings,\non their embryological relations, their geographical distribution,\ngeological succession, and other such facts, might come to the\nconclusion that each species had not been independently created, but\nhad descended, like varieties, from other species. Nevertheless, such\na conclusion, even if well founded, would be unsatisfactory, until it\ncould be shown how the innumerable species inhabiting this world\nhave been modified, so as to acquire that perfection of structure and\ncoadaptation which most justly excites our admiration. Naturalists\ncontinually refer to external conditions, such as climate, food, etc.,\nas the only possible cause of variation. In one very limited sense,\nas we shall hereafter see, this may be true; but it is preposterous to\nattribute to mere external conditions, the structure, for instance,\nof the woodpecker, with its feet, tail, beak, and tongue, so admirably\nadapted to catch insects under the bark of trees. In the case of the\nmisseltoe, which draws its nourishment from certain trees, which has\nseeds that must be transported by certain birds, and which has flowers\nwith separate sexes absolutely requiring the agency of certain insects\nto bring pollen from one flower to the other, it is equally preposterous\nto account for the structure of this parasite, with its relations to\nseveral distinct organic beings, by the effects of external conditions,\nor of habit, or of the volition of the plant itself.\n\nThe author of the 'Vestiges of Creation' would, I presume, say that,\nafter a certain unknown number of generations, some bird had given birth\nto a woodpecker, and some plant to the misseltoe, and that these had\nbeen produced perfect as we now see them; but this assumption seems to\nme to be no explanation, for it leaves the case of the coadaptations of\norganic beings to each other and to their physical conditions of life,\nuntouched and unexplained.\n\nIt is, therefore, of the highest importance to gain a clear insight into\nthe means of modification and coadaptation. At the commencement of\nmy observations it seemed to me probable that a careful study of\ndomesticated animals and of cultivated plants would offer the best\nchance of making out this obscure problem. Nor have I been disappointed;\nin this and in all other perplexing cases I have invariably found that\nour knowledge, imperfect though it be, of variation under domestication,\nafforded the best and safest clue. I may venture to express my\nconviction of the high value of such studies, although they have been\nvery commonly neglected by naturalists.\n\nFrom these considerations, I shall devote the first chapter of this\nAbstract to Variation under Domestication. We shall thus see that a\nlarge amount of hereditary modification is at least possible, and, what\nis equally or more important, we shall see how great is the power of man\nin accumulating by his Selection successive slight variations. I will\nthen pass on to the variability of species in a state of nature; but\nI shall, unfortunately, be compelled to treat this subject far too\nbriefly, as it can be treated properly only by giving long catalogues of\nfacts. We shall, however, be enabled to discuss what circumstances\nare most favourable to variation. In the next chapter the Struggle\nfor Existence amongst all organic beings throughout the world, which\ninevitably follows from their high geometrical powers of increase, will\nbe treated of. This is the doctrine of Malthus, applied to the whole\nanimal and vegetable kingdoms. As many more individuals of each species\nare born than can possibly survive; and as, consequently, there is a\nfrequently recurring struggle for existence, it follows that any being,\nif it vary however slightly in any manner profitable to itself, under\nthe complex and sometimes varying conditions of life, will have a better\nchance of surviving, and thus be NATURALLY SELECTED. From the strong\nprinciple of inheritance, any selected variety will tend to propagate\nits new and modified form.\n\nThis fundamental subject of Natural Selection will be treated at\nsome length in the fourth chapter; and we shall then see how Natural\nSelection almost inevitably causes much Extinction of the less improved\nforms of life and induces what I have called Divergence of Character.\nIn the next chapter I shall discuss the complex and little known laws of\nvariation and of correlation of growth. In the four succeeding chapters,\nthe most apparent and gravest difficulties on the theory will be given:\nnamely, first, the difficulties of transitions, or in understanding how\na simple being or a simple organ can be changed and perfected into a\nhighly developed being or elaborately constructed organ; secondly\nthe subject of Instinct, or the mental powers of animals, thirdly,\nHybridism, or the infertility of species and the fertility of varieties\nwhen intercrossed; and fourthly, the imperfection of the Geological\nRecord. In the next chapter I shall consider the geological succession\nof organic beings throughout time; in the eleventh and twelfth, their\ngeographical distribution throughout space; in the thirteenth, their\nclassification or mutual affinities, both when mature and in an\nembryonic condition. In the last chapter I shall give a brief\nrecapitulation of the whole work, and a few concluding remarks.\n\nNo one ought to feel surprise at much remaining as yet unexplained in\nregard to the origin of species and varieties, if he makes due allowance\nfor our profound ignorance in regard to the mutual relations of all\nthe beings which live around us. Who can explain why one species ranges\nwidely and is very numerous, and why another allied species has a narrow\nrange and is rare? Yet these relations are of the highest importance,\nfor they determine the present welfare, and, as I believe, the future\nsuccess and modification of every inhabitant of this world. Still less\ndo we know of the mutual relations of the innumerable inhabitants of the\nworld during the many past geological epochs in its history. Although\nmuch remains obscure, and will long remain obscure, I can entertain no\ndoubt, after the most deliberate study and dispassionate judgment of\nwhich I am capable, that the view which most naturalists entertain,\nand which I formerly entertained--namely, that each species has been\nindependently created--is erroneous. I am fully convinced that species\nare not immutable; but that those belonging to what are called the\nsame genera are lineal descendants of some other and generally extinct\nspecies, in the same manner as the acknowledged varieties of any one\nspecies are the descendants of that species. Furthermore, I am convinced\nthat Natural Selection has been the main but not exclusive means of\nmodification.\n\n\n\n\n1. VARIATION UNDER DOMESTICATION.\n\nCauses of Variability. Effects of Habit. Correlation of Growth.\nInheritance. Character of Domestic Varieties. Difficulty of\ndistinguishing between Varieties and Species. Origin of Domestic\nVarieties from one or more Species. Domestic Pigeons, their Differences\nand Origin. Principle of Selection anciently followed, its Effects.\nMethodical and Unconscious Selection. Unknown Origin of our Domestic\nProductions. Circumstances favourable to Man's power of Selection.\n\nWhen we look to the individuals of the same variety or sub-variety of\nour older cultivated plants and animals, one of the first points which\nstrikes us, is, that they generally differ much more from each other,\nthan do the individuals of any one species or variety in a state of\nnature. When we reflect on the vast diversity of the plants and animals\nwhich have been cultivated, and which have varied during all ages under\nthe most different climates and treatment, I think we are driven to\nconclude that this greater variability is simply due to our domestic\nproductions having been raised under conditions of life not so uniform\nas, and somewhat different from, those to which the parent-species have\nbeen exposed under nature. There is, also, I think, some probability\nin the view propounded by Andrew Knight, that this variability may be\npartly connected with excess of food. It seems pretty clear that organic\nbeings must be exposed during several generations to the new conditions\nof life to cause any appreciable amount of variation; and that when the\norganisation has once begun to vary, it generally continues to vary for\nmany generations. No case is on record of a variable being ceasing to be\nvariable under cultivation. Our oldest cultivated plants, such as wheat,\nstill often yield new varieties: our oldest domesticated animals are\nstill capable of rapid improvement or modification.\n\nIt has been disputed at what period of life the causes of variability,\nwhatever they may be, generally act; whether during the early or late\nperiod of development of the embryo, or at the instant of conception.\nGeoffroy St. Hilaire's experiments show that unnatural treatment of the\nembryo causes monstrosities; and monstrosities cannot be separated by\nany clear line of distinction from mere variations. But I am strongly\ninclined to suspect that the most frequent cause of variability may\nbe attributed to the male and female reproductive elements having been\naffected prior to the act of conception. Several reasons make me believe\nin this; but the chief one is the remarkable effect which confinement or\ncultivation has on the functions of the reproductive system; this\nsystem appearing to be far more susceptible than any other part of the\norganisation, to the action of any change in the conditions of life.\nNothing is more easy than to tame an animal, and few things more\ndifficult than to get it to breed freely under confinement, even in the\nmany cases when the male and female unite. How many animals there\nare which will not breed, though living long under not very close\nconfinement in their native country! This is generally attributed to\nvitiated instincts; but how many cultivated plants display the utmost\nvigour, and yet rarely or never seed! In some few such cases it has\nbeen found out that very trifling changes, such as a little more or less\nwater at some particular period of growth, will determine whether or not\nthe plant sets a seed. I cannot here enter on the copious details which\nI have collected on this curious subject; but to show how singular the\nlaws are which determine the reproduction of animals under confinement,\nI may just mention that carnivorous animals, even from the tropics,\nbreed in this country pretty freely under confinement, with the\nexception of the plantigrades or bear family; whereas, carnivorous\nbirds, with the rarest exceptions, hardly ever lay fertile eggs. Many\nexotic plants have pollen utterly worthless, in the same exact\ncondition as in the most sterile hybrids. When, on the one hand, we\nsee domesticated animals and plants, though often weak and sickly, yet\nbreeding quite freely under confinement; and when, on the other hand,\nwe see individuals, though taken young from a state of nature,\nperfectly tamed, long-lived, and healthy (of which I could give numerous\ninstances), yet having their reproductive system so seriously affected\nby unperceived causes as to fail in acting, we need not be surprised\nat this system, when it does act under confinement, acting not quite\nregularly, and producing offspring not perfectly like their parents or\nvariable.\n\nSterility has been said to be the bane of horticulture; but on this\nview we owe variability to the same cause which produces sterility; and\nvariability is the source of all the choicest productions of the garden.\nI may add, that as some organisms will breed most freely under the\nmost unnatural conditions (for instance, the rabbit and ferret kept\nin hutches), showing that their reproductive system has not been thus\naffected; so will some animals and plants withstand domestication or\ncultivation, and vary very slightly--perhaps hardly more than in a state\nof nature.\n\nA long list could easily be given of \"sporting plants;\" by this term\ngardeners mean a single bud or offset, which suddenly assumes a new and\nsometimes very different character from that of the rest of the plant.\nSuch buds can be propagated by grafting, etc., and sometimes by seed.\nThese \"sports\" are extremely rare under nature, but far from rare under\ncultivation; and in this case we see that the treatment of the parent\nhas affected a bud or offset, and not the ovules or pollen. But it is\nthe opinion of most physiologists that there is no essential difference\nbetween a bud and an ovule in their earliest stages of formation; so\nthat, in fact, \"sports\" support my view, that variability may be largely\nattributed to the ovules or pollen, or to both, having been affected by\nthe treatment of the parent prior to the act of conception. These cases\nanyhow show that variation is not necessarily connected, as some authors\nhave supposed, with the act of generation.\n\nSeedlings from the same fruit, and the young of the same litter,\nsometimes differ considerably from each other, though both the young\nand the parents, as Muller has remarked, have apparently been exposed to\nexactly the same conditions of life; and this shows how unimportant the\ndirect effects of the conditions of life are in comparison with the laws\nof reproduction, and of growth, and of inheritance; for had the action\nof the conditions been direct, if any of the young had varied, all would\nprobably have varied in the same manner. To judge how much, in the case\nof any variation, we should attribute to the direct action of heat,\nmoisture, light, food, etc., is most difficult: my impression is, that\nwith animals such agencies have produced very little direct effect,\nthough apparently more in the case of plants. Under this point of view,\nMr. Buckman's recent experiments on plants seem extremely valuable.\nWhen all or nearly all the individuals exposed to certain conditions are\naffected in the same way, the change at first appears to be directly\ndue to such conditions; but in some cases it can be shown that quite\nopposite conditions produce similar changes of structure. Nevertheless\nsome slight amount of change may, I think, be attributed to the direct\naction of the conditions of life--as, in some cases, increased size from\namount of food, colour from particular kinds of food and from light, and\nperhaps the thickness of fur from climate.\n\nHabit also has a decided influence, as in the period of flowering with\nplants when transported from one climate to another. In animals it has\na more marked effect; for instance, I find in the domestic duck that\nthe bones of the wing weigh less and the bones of the leg more,\nin proportion to the whole skeleton, than do the same bones in the\nwild-duck; and I presume that this change may be safely attributed to\nthe domestic duck flying much less, and walking more, than its wild\nparent. The great and inherited development of the udders in cows and\ngoats in countries where they are habitually milked, in comparison with\nthe state of these organs in other countries, is another instance of the\neffect of use. Not a single domestic animal can be named which has not\nin some country drooping ears; and the view suggested by some authors,\nthat the drooping is due to the disuse of the muscles of the ear, from\nthe animals not being much alarmed by danger, seems probable.\n\nThere are many laws regulating variation, some few of which can be dimly\nseen, and will be hereafter briefly mentioned. I will here only allude\nto what may be called correlation of growth. Any change in the embryo\nor larva will almost certainly entail changes in the mature animal. In\nmonstrosities, the correlations between quite distinct parts are very\ncurious; and many instances are given in Isidore Geoffroy St. Hilaire's\ngreat work on this subject. Breeders believe that long limbs are almost\nalways accompanied by an elongated head. Some instances of correlation\nare quite whimsical; thus cats with blue eyes are invariably deaf;\ncolour and constitutional peculiarities go together, of which many\nremarkable cases could be given amongst animals and plants. From the\nfacts collected by Heusinger, it appears that white sheep and pigs are\ndifferently affected from coloured individuals by certain vegetable\npoisons. Hairless dogs have imperfect teeth; long-haired and\ncoarse-haired animals are apt to have, as is asserted, long or many\nhorns; pigeons with feathered feet have skin between their outer toes;\npigeons with short beaks have small feet, and those with long beaks\nlarge feet. Hence, if man goes on selecting, and thus augmenting, any\npeculiarity, he will almost certainly unconsciously modify other parts\nof the structure, owing to the mysterious laws of the correlation of\ngrowth.\n\nThe result of the various, quite unknown, or dimly seen laws of\nvariation is infinitely complex and diversified. It is well worth while\ncarefully to study the several treatises published on some of our old\ncultivated plants, as on the hyacinth, potato, even the dahlia, etc.;\nand it is really surprising to note the endless points in structure and\nconstitution in which the varieties and sub-varieties differ slightly\nfrom each other. The whole organisation seems to have become plastic,\nand tends to depart in some small degree from that of the parental type.\n\nAny variation which is not inherited is unimportant for us. But the\nnumber and diversity of inheritable deviations of structure, both\nthose of slight and those of considerable physiological importance,\nis endless. Dr. Prosper Lucas's treatise, in two large volumes, is the\nfullest and the best on this subject. No breeder doubts how strong\nis the tendency to inheritance: like produces like is his fundamental\nbelief: doubts have been thrown on this principle by theoretical writers\nalone. When a deviation appears not unfrequently, and we see it in the\nfather and child, we cannot tell whether it may not be due to the same\noriginal cause acting on both; but when amongst individuals, apparently\nexposed to the same conditions, any very rare deviation, due to some\nextraordinary combination of circumstances, appears in the parent--say,\nonce amongst several million individuals--and it reappears in the\nchild, the mere doctrine of chances almost compels us to attribute\nits reappearance to inheritance. Every one must have heard of cases of\nalbinism, prickly skin, hairy bodies, etc., appearing in several members\nof the same family. If strange and rare deviations of structure are\ntruly inherited, less strange and commoner deviations may be freely\nadmitted to be inheritable. Perhaps the correct way of viewing the\nwhole subject, would be, to look at the inheritance of every character\nwhatever as the rule, and non-inheritance as the anomaly.\n\nThe laws governing inheritance are quite unknown; no one can say why the\nsame peculiarity in different individuals of the same species, and in\nindividuals of different species, is sometimes inherited and sometimes\nnot so; why the child often reverts in certain characters to its\ngrandfather or grandmother or other much more remote ancestor; why a\npeculiarity is often transmitted from one sex to both sexes or to one\nsex alone, more commonly but not exclusively to the like sex. It is a\nfact of some little importance to us, that peculiarities appearing\nin the males of our domestic breeds are often transmitted either\nexclusively, or in a much greater degree, to males alone. A much more\nimportant rule, which I think may be trusted, is that, at whatever\nperiod of life a peculiarity first appears, it tends to appear in the\noffspring at a corresponding age, though sometimes earlier. In many\ncases this could not be otherwise: thus the inherited peculiarities\nin the horns of cattle could appear only in the offspring when nearly\nmature; peculiarities in the silkworm are known to appear at the\ncorresponding caterpillar or cocoon stage. But hereditary diseases and\nsome other facts make me believe that the rule has a wider extension,\nand that when there is no apparent reason why a peculiarity should\nappear at any particular age, yet that it does tend to appear in the\noffspring at the same period at which it first appeared in the parent. I\nbelieve this rule to be of the highest importance in explaining the\nlaws of embryology. These remarks are of course confined to the first\nAPPEARANCE of the peculiarity, and not to its primary cause, which may\nhave acted on the ovules or male element; in nearly the same manner as\nin the crossed offspring from a short-horned cow by a long-horned bull,\nthe greater length of horn, though appearing late in life, is clearly\ndue to the male element.\n\nHaving alluded to the subject of reversion, I may here refer to\na statement often made by naturalists--namely, that our domestic\nvarieties, when run wild, gradually but certainly revert in character to\ntheir aboriginal stocks. Hence it has been argued that no deductions can\nbe drawn from domestic races to species in a state of nature. I have in\nvain endeavoured to discover on what decisive facts the above statement\nhas so often and so boldly been made. There would be great difficulty\nin proving its truth: we may safely conclude that very many of the most\nstrongly-marked domestic varieties could not possibly live in a wild\nstate. In many cases we do not know what the aboriginal stock was, and\nso could not tell whether or not nearly perfect reversion had ensued.\nIt would be quite necessary, in order to prevent the effects of\nintercrossing, that only a single variety should be turned loose in\nits new home. Nevertheless, as our varieties certainly do occasionally\nrevert in some of their characters to ancestral forms, it seems to me\nnot improbable, that if we could succeed in naturalising, or were to\ncultivate, during many generations, the several races, for instance,\nof the cabbage, in very poor soil (in which case, however, some effect\nwould have to be attributed to the direct action of the poor soil),\nthat they would to a large extent, or even wholly, revert to the wild\naboriginal stock. Whether or not the experiment would succeed, is not of\ngreat importance for our line of argument; for by the experiment itself\nthe conditions of life are changed. If it could be shown that our\ndomestic varieties manifested a strong tendency to reversion,--that\nis, to lose their acquired characters, whilst kept under unchanged\nconditions, and whilst kept in a considerable body, so that free\nintercrossing might check, by blending together, any slight deviations\nof structure, in such case, I grant that we could deduce nothing from\ndomestic varieties in regard to species. But there is not a shadow of\nevidence in favour of this view: to assert that we could not breed\nour cart and race-horses, long and short-horned cattle, and poultry of\nvarious breeds, and esculent vegetables, for an almost infinite number\nof generations, would be opposed to all experience. I may add, that when\nunder nature the conditions of life do change, variations and reversions\nof character probably do occur; but natural selection, as will hereafter\nbe explained, will determine how far the new characters thus arising\nshall be preserved.\n\nWhen we look to the hereditary varieties or races of our domestic\nanimals and plants, and compare them with species closely allied\ntogether, we generally perceive in each domestic race, as already\nremarked, less uniformity of character than in true species. Domestic\nraces of the same species, also, often have a somewhat monstrous\ncharacter; by which I mean, that, although differing from each other,\nand from the other species of the same genus, in several trifling\nrespects, they often differ in an extreme degree in some one part, both\nwhen compared one with another, and more especially when compared with\nall the species in nature to which they are nearest allied. With these\nexceptions (and with that of the perfect fertility of varieties when\ncrossed,--a subject hereafter to be discussed), domestic races of the\nsame species differ from each other in the same manner as, only in most\ncases in a lesser degree than, do closely-allied species of the same\ngenus in a state of nature. I think this must be admitted, when we find\nthat there are hardly any domestic races, either amongst animals or\nplants, which have not been ranked by some competent judges as\nmere varieties, and by other competent judges as the descendants of\naboriginally distinct species. If any marked distinction existed\nbetween domestic races and species, this source of doubt could not so\nperpetually recur. It has often been stated that domestic races do not\ndiffer from each other in characters of generic value. I think it could\nbe shown that this statement is hardly correct; but naturalists differ\nmost widely in determining what characters are of generic value; all\nsuch valuations being at present empirical. Moreover, on the view of\nthe origin of genera which I shall presently give, we have no right\nto expect often to meet with generic differences in our domesticated\nproductions.\n\nWhen we attempt to estimate the amount of structural difference between\nthe domestic races of the same species, we are soon involved in doubt,\nfrom not knowing whether they have descended from one or several\nparent-species. This point, if it could be cleared up, would be\ninteresting; if, for instance, it could be shown that the greyhound,\nbloodhound, terrier, spaniel, and bull-dog, which we all know propagate\ntheir kind so truly, were the offspring of any single species, then such\nfacts would have great weight in making us doubt about the immutability\nof the many very closely allied and natural species--for instance, of\nthe many foxes--inhabiting different quarters of the world. I do not\nbelieve, as we shall presently see, that all our dogs have descended\nfrom any one wild species; but, in the case of some other domestic\nraces, there is presumptive, or even strong, evidence in favour of this\nview.\n\nIt has often been assumed that man has chosen for domestication animals\nand plants having an extraordinary inherent tendency to vary, and\nlikewise to withstand diverse climates. I do not dispute that these\ncapacities have added largely to the value of most of our domesticated\nproductions; but how could a savage possibly know, when he first tamed\nan animal, whether it would vary in succeeding generations, and whether\nit would endure other climates? Has the little variability of the ass or\nguinea-fowl, or the small power of endurance of warmth by the rein-deer,\nor of cold by the common camel, prevented their domestication? I\ncannot doubt that if other animals and plants, equal in number to our\ndomesticated productions, and belonging to equally diverse classes and\ncountries, were taken from a state of nature, and could be made to breed\nfor an equal number of generations under domestication, they would\nvary on an average as largely as the parent species of our existing\ndomesticated productions have varied.\n\nIn the case of most of our anciently domesticated animals and plants, I\ndo not think it is possible to come to any definite conclusion, whether\nthey have descended from one or several species. The argument mainly\nrelied on by those who believe in the multiple origin of our domestic\nanimals is, that we find in the most ancient records, more especially on\nthe monuments of Egypt, much diversity in the breeds; and that some of\nthe breeds closely resemble, perhaps are identical with, those still\nexisting. Even if this latter fact were found more strictly and\ngenerally true than seems to me to be the case, what does it show, but\nthat some of our breeds originated there, four or five thousand years\nago? But Mr. Horner's researches have rendered it in some degree\nprobable that man sufficiently civilized to have manufactured pottery\nexisted in the valley of the Nile thirteen or fourteen thousand years\nago; and who will pretend to say how long before these ancient periods,\nsavages, like those of Tierra del Fuego or Australia, who possess a\nsemi-domestic dog, may not have existed in Egypt?\n\nThe whole subject must, I think, remain vague; nevertheless, I may,\nwithout here entering on any details, state that, from geographical and\nother considerations, I think it highly probable that our domestic dogs\nhave descended from several wild species. In regard to sheep and goats\nI can form no opinion. I should think, from facts communicated to me by\nMr. Blyth, on the habits, voice, and constitution, etc., of the humped\nIndian cattle, that these had descended from a different aboriginal\nstock from our European cattle; and several competent judges believe\nthat these latter have had more than one wild parent. With respect to\nhorses, from reasons which I cannot give here, I am doubtfully inclined\nto believe, in opposition to several authors, that all the races have\ndescended from one wild stock. Mr. Blyth, whose opinion, from his large\nand varied stores of knowledge, I should value more than that of almost\nany one, thinks that all the breeds of poultry have proceeded from\nthe common wild Indian fowl (Gallus bankiva). In regard to ducks and\nrabbits, the breeds of which differ considerably from each other in\nstructure, I do not doubt that they all have descended from the common\nwild duck and rabbit.\n\nThe doctrine of the origin of our several domestic races from several\naboriginal stocks, has been carried to an absurd extreme by some\nauthors. They believe that every race which breeds true, let the\ndistinctive characters be ever so slight, has had its wild prototype.\nAt this rate there must have existed at least a score of species of wild\ncattle, as many sheep, and several goats in Europe alone, and several\neven within Great Britain. One author believes that there formerly\nexisted in Great Britain eleven wild species of sheep peculiar to it!\nWhen we bear in mind that Britain has now hardly one peculiar mammal,\nand France but few distinct from those of Germany and conversely, and\nso with Hungary, Spain, etc., but that each of these kingdoms possesses\nseveral peculiar breeds of cattle, sheep, etc., we must admit that many\ndomestic breeds have originated in Europe; for whence could they have\nbeen derived, as these several countries do not possess a number of\npeculiar species as distinct parent-stocks? So it is in India. Even in\nthe case of the domestic dogs of the whole world, which I fully admit\nhave probably descended from several wild species, I cannot doubt that\nthere has been an immense amount of inherited variation. Who can believe\nthat animals closely resembling the Italian greyhound, the bloodhound,\nthe bull-dog, or Blenheim spaniel, etc.--so unlike all wild\nCanidae--ever existed freely in a state of nature? It has often been\nloosely said that all our races of dogs have been produced by the\ncrossing of a few aboriginal species; but by crossing we can get only\nforms in some degree intermediate between their parents; and if we\naccount for our several domestic races by this process, we must\nadmit the former existence of the most extreme forms, as the Italian\ngreyhound, bloodhound, bull-dog, etc., in the wild state. Moreover,\nthe possibility of making distinct races by crossing has been greatly\nexaggerated. There can be no doubt that a race may be modified\nby occasional crosses, if aided by the careful selection of those\nindividual mongrels, which present any desired character; but that\na race could be obtained nearly intermediate between two extremely\ndifferent races or species, I can hardly believe. Sir J. Sebright\nexpressly experimentised for this object, and failed. The offspring from\nthe first cross between two pure breeds is tolerably and sometimes (as I\nhave found with pigeons) extremely uniform, and everything seems simple\nenough; but when these mongrels are crossed one with another for several\ngenerations, hardly two of them will be alike, and then the extreme\ndifficulty, or rather utter hopelessness, of the task becomes apparent.\nCertainly, a breed intermediate between TWO VERY DISTINCT breeds could\nnot be got without extreme care and long-continued selection; nor can\nI find a single case on record of a permanent race having been thus\nformed.\n\nON THE BREEDS OF THE DOMESTIC PIGEON.\n\nBelieving that it is always best to study some special group, I have,\nafter deliberation, taken up domestic pigeons. I have kept every breed\nwhich I could purchase or obtain, and have been most kindly favoured\nwith skins from several quarters of the world, more especially by the\nHonourable W. Elliot from India, and by the Honourable C. Murray from\nPersia. Many treatises in different languages have been published on\npigeons, and some of them are very important, as being of considerable\nantiquity. I have associated with several eminent fanciers, and have\nbeen permitted to join two of the London Pigeon Clubs. The diversity of\nthe breeds is something astonishing. Compare the English carrier and the\nshort-faced tumbler, and see the wonderful difference in their beaks,\nentailing corresponding differences in their skulls. The carrier,\nmore especially the male bird, is also remarkable from the wonderful\ndevelopment of the carunculated skin about the head, and this is\naccompanied by greatly elongated eyelids, very large external orifices\nto the nostrils, and a wide gape of mouth. The short-faced tumbler has a\nbeak in outline almost like that of a finch; and the common tumbler has\nthe singular and strictly inherited habit of flying at a great height in\na compact flock, and tumbling in the air head over heels. The runt is a\nbird of great size, with long, massive beak and large feet; some of the\nsub-breeds of runts have very long necks, others very long wings and\ntails, others singularly short tails. The barb is allied to the carrier,\nbut, instead of a very long beak, has a very short and very broad\none. The pouter has a much elongated body, wings, and legs; and its\nenormously developed crop, which it glories in inflating, may well\nexcite astonishment and even laughter. The turbit has a very short and\nconical beak, with a line of reversed feathers down the breast; and it\nhas the habit of continually expanding slightly the upper part of the\noesophagus. The Jacobin has the feathers so much reversed along the back\nof the neck that they form a hood, and it has, proportionally to its\nsize, much elongated wing and tail feathers. The trumpeter and laugher,\nas their names express, utter a very different coo from the other\nbreeds. The fantail has thirty or even forty tail-feathers, instead of\ntwelve or fourteen, the normal number in all members of the great pigeon\nfamily; and these feathers are kept expanded, and are carried so erect\nthat in good birds the head and tail touch; the oil-gland is quite\naborted. Several other less distinct breeds might have been specified.\n\nIn the skeletons of the several breeds, the development of the bones\nof the face in length and breadth and curvature differs enormously. The\nshape, as well as the breadth and length of the ramus of the lower\njaw, varies in a highly remarkable manner. The number of the caudal and\nsacral vertebrae vary; as does the number of the ribs, together with\ntheir relative breadth and the presence of processes. The size and shape\nof the apertures in the sternum are highly variable; so is the degree\nof divergence and relative size of the two arms of the furcula. The\nproportional width of the gape of mouth, the proportional length of the\neyelids, of the orifice of the nostrils, of the tongue (not always in\nstrict correlation with the length of beak), the size of the crop and\nof the upper part of the oesophagus; the development and abortion of\nthe oil-gland; the number of the primary wing and caudal feathers; the\nrelative length of wing and tail to each other and to the body; the\nrelative length of leg and of the feet; the number of scutellae on\nthe toes, the development of skin between the toes, are all points of\nstructure which are variable. The period at which the perfect plumage is\nacquired varies, as does the state of the down with which the nestling\nbirds are clothed when hatched. The shape and size of the eggs vary. The\nmanner of flight differs remarkably; as does in some breeds the voice\nand disposition. Lastly, in certain breeds, the males and females have\ncome to differ to a slight degree from each other.\n\nAltogether at least a score of pigeons might be chosen, which if shown\nto an ornithologist, and he were told that they were wild birds, would\ncertainly, I think, be ranked by him as well-defined species. Moreover,\nI do not believe that any ornithologist would place the English carrier,\nthe short-faced tumbler, the runt, the barb, pouter, and fantail in\nthe same genus; more especially as in each of these breeds several\ntruly-inherited sub-breeds, or species as he might have called them,\ncould be shown him.\n\nGreat as the differences are between the breeds of pigeons, I am fully\nconvinced that the common opinion of naturalists is correct, namely,\nthat all have descended from the rock-pigeon (Columba livia), including\nunder this term several geographical races or sub-species, which differ\nfrom each other in the most trifling respects. As several of the reasons\nwhich have led me to this belief are in some degree applicable in other\ncases, I will here briefly give them. If the several breeds are not\nvarieties, and have not proceeded from the rock-pigeon, they must have\ndescended from at least seven or eight aboriginal stocks; for it is\nimpossible to make the present domestic breeds by the crossing of any\nlesser number: how, for instance, could a pouter be produced by crossing\ntwo breeds unless one of the parent-stocks possessed the characteristic\nenormous crop? The supposed aboriginal stocks must all have been\nrock-pigeons, that is, not breeding or willingly perching on trees. But\nbesides C. livia, with its geographical sub-species, only two or three\nother species of rock-pigeons are known; and these have not any of the\ncharacters of the domestic breeds. Hence the supposed aboriginal stocks\nmust either still exist in the countries where they were originally\ndomesticated, and yet be unknown to ornithologists; and this,\nconsidering their size, habits, and remarkable characters, seems very\nimprobable; or they must have become extinct in the wild state. But\nbirds breeding on precipices, and good fliers, are unlikely to be\nexterminated; and the common rock-pigeon, which has the same habits with\nthe domestic breeds, has not been exterminated even on several of the\nsmaller British islets, or on the shores of the Mediterranean. Hence the\nsupposed extermination of so many species having similar habits with the\nrock-pigeon seems to me a very rash assumption. Moreover, the several\nabove-named domesticated breeds have been transported to all parts of\nthe world, and, therefore, some of them must have been carried back\nagain into their native country; but not one has ever become wild or\nferal, though the dovecot-pigeon, which is the rock-pigeon in a very\nslightly altered state, has become feral in several places. Again, all\nrecent experience shows that it is most difficult to get any wild\nanimal to breed freely under domestication; yet on the hypothesis of the\nmultiple origin of our pigeons, it must be assumed that at least seven\nor eight species were so thoroughly domesticated in ancient times by\nhalf-civilized man, as to be quite prolific under confinement.\n\nAn argument, as it seems to me, of great weight, and applicable in\nseveral other cases, is, that the above-specified breeds, though\nagreeing generally in constitution, habits, voice, colouring, and\nin most parts of their structure, with the wild rock-pigeon, yet are\ncertainly highly abnormal in other parts of their structure: we may look\nin vain throughout the whole great family of Columbidae for a beak like\nthat of the English carrier, or that of the short-faced tumbler, or\nbarb; for reversed feathers like those of the jacobin; for a crop like\nthat of the pouter; for tail-feathers like those of the fantail.\nHence it must be assumed not only that half-civilized man succeeded in\nthoroughly domesticating several species, but that he intentionally or\nby chance picked out extraordinarily abnormal species; and further, that\nthese very species have since all become extinct or unknown. So many\nstrange contingencies seem to me improbable in the highest degree.\n\nSome facts in regard to the colouring of pigeons well deserve\nconsideration. The rock-pigeon is of a slaty-blue, and has a white rump\n(the Indian sub-species, C. intermedia of Strickland, having it bluish);\nthe tail has a terminal dark bar, with the bases of the outer feathers\nexternally edged with white; the wings have two black bars; some\nsemi-domestic breeds and some apparently truly wild breeds have, besides\nthe two black bars, the wings chequered with black. These several marks\ndo not occur together in any other species of the whole family. Now, in\nevery one of the domestic breeds, taking thoroughly well-bred birds, all\nthe above marks, even to the white edging of the outer tail-feathers,\nsometimes concur perfectly developed. Moreover, when two birds belonging\nto two distinct breeds are crossed, neither of which is blue or has\nany of the above-specified marks, the mongrel offspring are very apt\nsuddenly to acquire these characters; for instance, I crossed some\nuniformly white fantails with some uniformly black barbs, and they\nproduced mottled brown and black birds; these I again crossed together,\nand one grandchild of the pure white fantail and pure black barb was of\nas beautiful a blue colour, with the white rump, double black wing-bar,\nand barred and white-edged tail-feathers, as any wild rock-pigeon! We\ncan understand these facts, on the well-known principle of reversion to\nancestral characters, if all the domestic breeds have descended from the\nrock-pigeon. But if we deny this, we must make one of the two following\nhighly improbable suppositions. Either, firstly, that all the\nseveral imagined aboriginal stocks were coloured and marked like the\nrock-pigeon, although no other existing species is thus coloured and\nmarked, so that in each separate breed there might be a tendency to\nrevert to the very same colours and markings. Or, secondly, that each\nbreed, even the purest, has within a dozen or, at most, within a score\nof generations, been crossed by the rock-pigeon: I say within a dozen or\ntwenty generations, for we know of no fact countenancing the belief that\nthe child ever reverts to some one ancestor, removed by a greater number\nof generations. In a breed which has been crossed only once with some\ndistinct breed, the tendency to reversion to any character derived from\nsuch cross will naturally become less and less, as in each succeeding\ngeneration there will be less of the foreign blood; but when there has\nbeen no cross with a distinct breed, and there is a tendency in both\nparents to revert to a character, which has been lost during some former\ngeneration, this tendency, for all that we can see to the contrary, may\nbe transmitted undiminished for an indefinite number of generations.\nThese two distinct cases are often confounded in treatises on\ninheritance.\n\nLastly, the hybrids or mongrels from between all the domestic breeds\nof pigeons are perfectly fertile. I can state this from my own\nobservations, purposely made on the most distinct breeds. Now, it is\ndifficult, perhaps impossible, to bring forward one case of the hybrid\noffspring of two animals CLEARLY DISTINCT being themselves perfectly\nfertile. Some authors believe that long-continued domestication\neliminates this strong tendency to sterility: from the history of the\ndog I think there is some probability in this hypothesis, if applied to\nspecies closely related together, though it is unsupported by a single\nexperiment. But to extend the hypothesis so far as to suppose that\nspecies, aboriginally as distinct as carriers, tumblers, pouters, and\nfantails now are, should yield offspring perfectly fertile, inter se,\nseems to me rash in the extreme.\n\nFrom these several reasons, namely, the improbability of man having\nformerly got seven or eight supposed species of pigeons to breed freely\nunder domestication; these supposed species being quite unknown in a\nwild state, and their becoming nowhere feral; these species having very\nabnormal characters in certain respects, as compared with all other\nColumbidae, though so like in most other respects to the rock-pigeon;\nthe blue colour and various marks occasionally appearing in all the\nbreeds, both when kept pure and when crossed; the mongrel offspring\nbeing perfectly fertile;--from these several reasons, taken together, I\ncan feel no doubt that all our domestic breeds have descended from the\nColumba livia with its geographical sub-species.\n\nIn favour of this view, I may add, firstly, that C. livia, or the\nrock-pigeon, has been found capable of domestication in Europe and in\nIndia; and that it agrees in habits and in a great number of points of\nstructure with all the domestic breeds. Secondly, although an English\ncarrier or short-faced tumbler differs immensely in certain characters\nfrom the rock-pigeon, yet by comparing the several sub-breeds of these\nbreeds, more especially those brought from distant countries, we\ncan make an almost perfect series between the extremes of structure.\nThirdly, those characters which are mainly distinctive of each breed,\nfor instance the wattle and length of beak of the carrier, the shortness\nof that of the tumbler, and the number of tail-feathers in the fantail,\nare in each breed eminently variable; and the explanation of this fact\nwill be obvious when we come to treat of selection. Fourthly, pigeons\nhave been watched, and tended with the utmost care, and loved by many\npeople. They have been domesticated for thousands of years in several\nquarters of the world; the earliest known record of pigeons is in the\nfifth Aegyptian dynasty, about 3000 B.C., as was pointed out to me by\nProfessor Lepsius; but Mr. Birch informs me that pigeons are given in a\nbill of fare in the previous dynasty. In the time of the Romans, as we\nhear from Pliny, immense prices were given for pigeons; \"nay, they are\ncome to this pass, that they can reckon up their pedigree and race.\"\nPigeons were much valued by Akber Khan in India, about the year 1600;\nnever less than 20,000 pigeons were taken with the court. \"The monarchs\nof Iran and Turan sent him some very rare birds;\" and, continues the\ncourtly historian, \"His Majesty by crossing the breeds, which method\nwas never practised before, has improved them astonishingly.\" About\nthis same period the Dutch were as eager about pigeons as were the old\nRomans. The paramount importance of these considerations in explaining\nthe immense amount of variation which pigeons have undergone, will be\nobvious when we treat of Selection. We shall then, also, see how it is\nthat the breeds so often have a somewhat monstrous character. It is also\na most favourable circumstance for the production of distinct breeds,\nthat male and female pigeons can be easily mated for life; and thus\ndifferent breeds can be kept together in the same aviary.\n\nI have discussed the probable origin of domestic pigeons at some,\nyet quite insufficient, length; because when I first kept pigeons and\nwatched the several kinds, knowing well how true they bred, I felt fully\nas much difficulty in believing that they could ever have descended\nfrom a common parent, as any naturalist could in coming to a similar\nconclusion in regard to the many species of finches, or other large\ngroups of birds, in nature. One circumstance has struck me much;\nnamely, that all the breeders of the various domestic animals and\nthe cultivators of plants, with whom I have ever conversed, or whose\ntreatises I have read, are firmly convinced that the several breeds\nto which each has attended, are descended from so many aboriginally\ndistinct species. Ask, as I have asked, a celebrated raiser of Hereford\ncattle, whether his cattle might not have descended from long horns, and\nhe will laugh you to scorn. I have never met a pigeon, or poultry, or\nduck, or rabbit fancier, who was not fully convinced that each main\nbreed was descended from a distinct species. Van Mons, in his treatise\non pears and apples, shows how utterly he disbelieves that the several\nsorts, for instance a Ribston-pippin or Codlin-apple, could ever have\nproceeded from the seeds of the same tree. Innumerable other examples\ncould be given. The explanation, I think, is simple: from long-continued\nstudy they are strongly impressed with the differences between the\nseveral races; and though they well know that each race varies slightly,\nfor they win their prizes by selecting such slight differences, yet they\nignore all general arguments, and refuse to sum up in their minds slight\ndifferences accumulated during many successive generations. May not\nthose naturalists who, knowing far less of the laws of inheritance than\ndoes the breeder, and knowing no more than he does of the intermediate\nlinks in the long lines of descent, yet admit that many of our domestic\nraces have descended from the same parents--may they not learn a lesson\nof caution, when they deride the idea of species in a state of nature\nbeing lineal descendants of other species?\n\nSELECTION.\n\nLet us now briefly consider the steps by which domestic races have been\nproduced, either from one or from several allied species. Some little\neffect may, perhaps, be attributed to the direct action of the external\nconditions of life, and some little to habit; but he would be a bold\nman who would account by such agencies for the differences of a dray and\nrace horse, a greyhound and bloodhound, a carrier and tumbler pigeon.\nOne of the most remarkable features in our domesticated races is that we\nsee in them adaptation, not indeed to the animal's or plant's own good,\nbut to man's use or fancy. Some variations useful to him have probably\narisen suddenly, or by one step; many botanists, for instance, believe\nthat the fuller's teazle, with its hooks, which cannot be rivalled by\nany mechanical contrivance, is only a variety of the wild Dipsacus; and\nthis amount of change may have suddenly arisen in a seedling. So it has\nprobably been with the turnspit dog; and this is known to have been\nthe case with the ancon sheep. But when we compare the dray-horse and\nrace-horse, the dromedary and camel, the various breeds of sheep fitted\neither for cultivated land or mountain pasture, with the wool of one\nbreed good for one purpose, and that of another breed for another\npurpose; when we compare the many breeds of dogs, each good for man in\nvery different ways; when we compare the game-cock, so pertinacious\nin battle, with other breeds so little quarrelsome, with \"everlasting\nlayers\" which never desire to sit, and with the bantam so small and\nelegant; when we compare the host of agricultural, culinary, orchard,\nand flower-garden races of plants, most useful to man at different\nseasons and for different purposes, or so beautiful in his eyes, we\nmust, I think, look further than to mere variability. We cannot suppose\nthat all the breeds were suddenly produced as perfect and as useful as\nwe now see them; indeed, in several cases, we know that this has not\nbeen their history. The key is man's power of accumulative selection:\nnature gives successive variations; man adds them up in certain\ndirections useful to him. In this sense he may be said to make for\nhimself useful breeds.\n\nThe great power of this principle of selection is not hypothetical.\nIt is certain that several of our eminent breeders have, even within a\nsingle lifetime, modified to a large extent some breeds of cattle and\nsheep. In order fully to realise what they have done, it is almost\nnecessary to read several of the many treatises devoted to this subject,\nand to inspect the animals. Breeders habitually speak of an animal's\norganisation as something quite plastic, which they can model almost\nas they please. If I had space I could quote numerous passages to this\neffect from highly competent authorities. Youatt, who was probably\nbetter acquainted with the works of agriculturalists than almost any\nother individual, and who was himself a very good judge of an animal,\nspeaks of the principle of selection as \"that which enables the\nagriculturist, not only to modify the character of his flock, but to\nchange it altogether. It is the magician's wand, by means of which\nhe may summon into life whatever form and mould he pleases.\" Lord\nSomerville, speaking of what breeders have done for sheep, says:--\"It\nwould seem as if they had chalked out upon a wall a form perfect in\nitself, and then had given it existence.\" That most skilful breeder,\nSir John Sebright, used to say, with respect to pigeons, that \"he would\nproduce any given feather in three years, but it would take him\nsix years to obtain head and beak.\" In Saxony the importance of the\nprinciple of selection in regard to merino sheep is so fully recognised,\nthat men follow it as a trade: the sheep are placed on a table and are\nstudied, like a picture by a connoisseur; this is done three times at\nintervals of months, and the sheep are each time marked and classed, so\nthat the very best may ultimately be selected for breeding.\n\nWhat English breeders have actually effected is proved by the enormous\nprices given for animals with a good pedigree; and these have now been\nexported to almost every quarter of the world. The improvement is by no\nmeans generally due to crossing different breeds; all the best breeders\nare strongly opposed to this practice, except sometimes amongst closely\nallied sub-breeds. And when a cross has been made, the closest selection\nis far more indispensable even than in ordinary cases. If selection\nconsisted merely in separating some very distinct variety, and breeding\nfrom it, the principle would be so obvious as hardly to be worth\nnotice; but its importance consists in the great effect produced by\nthe accumulation in one direction, during successive generations, of\ndifferences absolutely inappreciable by an uneducated eye--differences\nwhich I for one have vainly attempted to appreciate. Not one man in\na thousand has accuracy of eye and judgment sufficient to become an\neminent breeder. If gifted with these qualities, and he studies his\nsubject for years, and devotes his lifetime to it with indomitable\nperseverance, he will succeed, and may make great improvements; if he\nwants any of these qualities, he will assuredly fail. Few would readily\nbelieve in the natural capacity and years of practice requisite to\nbecome even a skilful pigeon-fancier.\n\nThe same principles are followed by horticulturists; but the variations\nare here often more abrupt. No one supposes that our choicest\nproductions have been produced by a single variation from the aboriginal\nstock. We have proofs that this is not so in some cases, in which exact\nrecords have been kept; thus, to give a very trifling instance, the\nsteadily-increasing size of the common gooseberry may be quoted. We see\nan astonishing improvement in many florists' flowers, when the flowers\nof the present day are compared with drawings made only twenty or thirty\nyears ago. When a race of plants is once pretty well established, the\nseed-raisers do not pick out the best plants, but merely go over their\nseed-beds, and pull up the \"rogues,\" as they call the plants that\ndeviate from the proper standard. With animals this kind of selection\nis, in fact, also followed; for hardly any one is so careless as to\nallow his worst animals to breed.\n\nIn regard to plants, there is another means of observing the accumulated\neffects of selection--namely, by comparing the diversity of flowers in\nthe different varieties of the same species in the flower-garden; the\ndiversity of leaves, pods, or tubers, or whatever part is valued, in the\nkitchen-garden, in comparison with the flowers of the same varieties;\nand the diversity of fruit of the same species in the orchard, in\ncomparison with the leaves and flowers of the same set of varieties. See\nhow different the leaves of the cabbage are, and how extremely alike the\nflowers; how unlike the flowers of the heartsease are, and how alike the\nleaves; how much the fruit of the different kinds of gooseberries differ\nin size, colour, shape, and hairiness, and yet the flowers present very\nslight differences. It is not that the varieties which differ largely\nin some one point do not differ at all in other points; this is hardly\never, perhaps never, the case. The laws of correlation of growth,\nthe importance of which should never be overlooked, will ensure some\ndifferences; but, as a general rule, I cannot doubt that the continued\nselection of slight variations, either in the leaves, the flowers, or\nthe fruit, will produce races differing from each other chiefly in these\ncharacters.\n\nIt may be objected that the principle of selection has been reduced to\nmethodical practice for scarcely more than three-quarters of a century;\nit has certainly been more attended to of late years, and many treatises\nhave been published on the subject; and the result, I may add, has been,\nin a corresponding degree, rapid and important. But it is very far from\ntrue that the principle is a modern discovery. I could give several\nreferences to the full acknowledgment of the importance of the principle\nin works of high antiquity. In rude and barbarous periods of English\nhistory choice animals were often imported, and laws were passed to\nprevent their exportation: the destruction of horses under a certain\nsize was ordered, and this may be compared to the \"roguing\" of plants\nby nurserymen. The principle of selection I find distinctly given in an\nancient Chinese encyclopaedia. Explicit rules are laid down by some of\nthe Roman classical writers. From passages in Genesis, it is clear that\nthe colour of domestic animals was at that early period attended to.\nSavages now sometimes cross their dogs with wild canine animals, to\nimprove the breed, and they formerly did so, as is attested by passages\nin Pliny. The savages in South Africa match their draught cattle by\ncolour, as do some of the Esquimaux their teams of dogs. Livingstone\nshows how much good domestic breeds are valued by the negroes of the\ninterior of Africa who have not associated with Europeans. Some of these\nfacts do not show actual selection, but they show that the breeding of\ndomestic animals was carefully attended to in ancient times, and is now\nattended to by the lowest savages. It would, indeed, have been a strange\nfact, had attention not been paid to breeding, for the inheritance of\ngood and bad qualities is so obvious.\n\nAt the present time, eminent breeders try by methodical selection, with\na distinct object in view, to make a new strain or sub-breed, superior\nto anything existing in the country. But, for our purpose, a kind of\nSelection, which may be called Unconscious, and which results from every\none trying to possess and breed from the best individual animals, is\nmore important. Thus, a man who intends keeping pointers naturally tries\nto get as good dogs as he can, and afterwards breeds from his own best\ndogs, but he has no wish or expectation of permanently altering the\nbreed. Nevertheless I cannot doubt that this process, continued during\ncenturies, would improve and modify any breed, in the same way as\nBakewell, Collins, etc., by this very same process, only carried on more\nmethodically, did greatly modify, even during their own lifetimes, the\nforms and qualities of their cattle. Slow and insensible changes of this\nkind could never be recognised unless actual measurements or careful\ndrawings of the breeds in question had been made long ago, which might\nserve for comparison. In some cases, however, unchanged or but little\nchanged individuals of the same breed may be found in less civilised\ndistricts, where the breed has been less improved. There is reason to\nbelieve that King Charles's spaniel has been unconsciously modified to\na large extent since the time of that monarch. Some highly competent\nauthorities are convinced that the setter is directly derived from the\nspaniel, and has probably been slowly altered from it. It is known that\nthe English pointer has been greatly changed within the last century,\nand in this case the change has, it is believed, been chiefly effected\nby crosses with the fox-hound; but what concerns us is, that the change\nhas been effected unconsciously and gradually, and yet so effectually,\nthat, though the old Spanish pointer certainly came from Spain, Mr.\nBorrow has not seen, as I am informed by him, any native dog in Spain\nlike our pointer.\n\nBy a similar process of selection, and by careful training, the whole\nbody of English racehorses have come to surpass in fleetness and size\nthe parent Arab stock, so that the latter, by the regulations for the\nGoodwood Races, are favoured in the weights they carry. Lord Spencer and\nothers have shown how the cattle of England have increased in weight\nand in early maturity, compared with the stock formerly kept in this\ncountry. By comparing the accounts given in old pigeon treatises of\ncarriers and tumblers with these breeds as now existing in Britain,\nIndia, and Persia, we can, I think, clearly trace the stages through\nwhich they have insensibly passed, and come to differ so greatly from\nthe rock-pigeon.\n\nYouatt gives an excellent illustration of the effects of a course of\nselection, which may be considered as unconsciously followed, in so far\nthat the breeders could never have expected or even have wished to have\nproduced the result which ensued--namely, the production of two distinct\nstrains. The two flocks of Leicester sheep kept by Mr. Buckley and Mr.\nBurgess, as Mr. Youatt remarks, \"have been purely bred from the original\nstock of Mr. Bakewell for upwards of fifty years. There is not a\nsuspicion existing in the mind of any one at all acquainted with\nthe subject that the owner of either of them has deviated in any one\ninstance from the pure blood of Mr. Bakewell's flock, and yet the\ndifference between the sheep possessed by these two gentlemen is so\ngreat that they have the appearance of being quite different varieties.\"\n\nIf there exist savages so barbarous as never to think of the inherited\ncharacter of the offspring of their domestic animals, yet any one animal\nparticularly useful to them, for any special purpose, would be carefully\npreserved during famines and other accidents, to which savages are\nso liable, and such choice animals would thus generally leave more\noffspring than the inferior ones; so that in this case there would be a\nkind of unconscious selection going on. We see the value set on animals\neven by the barbarians of Tierra del Fuego, by their killing and\ndevouring their old women, in times of dearth, as of less value than\ntheir dogs.\n\nIn plants the same gradual process of improvement, through the\noccasional preservation of the best individuals, whether or not\nsufficiently distinct to be ranked at their first appearance as distinct\nvarieties, and whether or not two or more species or races have become\nblended together by crossing, may plainly be recognised in the increased\nsize and beauty which we now see in the varieties of the heartsease,\nrose, pelargonium, dahlia, and other plants, when compared with the\nolder varieties or with their parent-stocks. No one would ever expect to\nget a first-rate heartsease or dahlia from the seed of a wild plant. No\none would expect to raise a first-rate melting pear from the seed of a\nwild pear, though he might succeed from a poor seedling growing wild,\nif it had come from a garden-stock. The pear, though cultivated in\nclassical times, appears, from Pliny's description, to have been a\nfruit of very inferior quality. I have seen great surprise expressed\nin horticultural works at the wonderful skill of gardeners, in having\nproduced such splendid results from such poor materials; but the art,\nI cannot doubt, has been simple, and, as far as the final result is\nconcerned, has been followed almost unconsciously. It has consisted in\nalways cultivating the best known variety, sowing its seeds, and, when\na slightly better variety has chanced to appear, selecting it, and so\nonwards. But the gardeners of the classical period, who cultivated\nthe best pear they could procure, never thought what splendid fruit we\nshould eat; though we owe our excellent fruit, in some small degree,\nto their having naturally chosen and preserved the best varieties they\ncould anywhere find.\n\nA large amount of change in our cultivated plants, thus slowly and\nunconsciously accumulated, explains, as I believe, the well-known fact,\nthat in a vast number of cases we cannot recognise, and therefore do\nnot know, the wild parent-stocks of the plants which have been longest\ncultivated in our flower and kitchen gardens. If it has taken centuries\nor thousands of years to improve or modify most of our plants up to\ntheir present standard of usefulness to man, we can understand how it\nis that neither Australia, the Cape of Good Hope, nor any other region\ninhabited by quite uncivilised man, has afforded us a single plant worth\nculture. It is not that these countries, so rich in species, do not by\na strange chance possess the aboriginal stocks of any useful plants, but\nthat the native plants have not been improved by continued selection up\nto a standard of perfection comparable with that given to the plants in\ncountries anciently civilised.\n\nIn regard to the domestic animals kept by uncivilised man, it should\nnot be overlooked that they almost always have to struggle for their\nown food, at least during certain seasons. And in two countries very\ndifferently circumstanced, individuals of the same species, having\nslightly different constitutions or structure, would often succeed\nbetter in the one country than in the other, and thus by a process of\n\"natural selection,\" as will hereafter be more fully explained, two\nsub-breeds might be formed. This, perhaps, partly explains what has been\nremarked by some authors, namely, that the varieties kept by savages\nhave more of the character of species than the varieties kept in\ncivilised countries.\n\nOn the view here given of the all-important part which selection by\nman has played, it becomes at once obvious, how it is that our domestic\nraces show adaptation in their structure or in their habits to man's\nwants or fancies. We can, I think, further understand the frequently\nabnormal character of our domestic races, and likewise their differences\nbeing so great in external characters and relatively so slight in\ninternal parts or organs. Man can hardly select, or only with much\ndifficulty, any deviation of structure excepting such as is externally\nvisible; and indeed he rarely cares for what is internal. He can never\nact by selection, excepting on variations which are first given to\nhim in some slight degree by nature. No man would ever try to make\na fantail, till he saw a pigeon with a tail developed in some slight\ndegree in an unusual manner, or a pouter till he saw a pigeon with a\ncrop of somewhat unusual size; and the more abnormal or unusual any\ncharacter was when it first appeared, the more likely it would be to\ncatch his attention. But to use such an expression as trying to make a\nfantail, is, I have no doubt, in most cases, utterly incorrect. The man\nwho first selected a pigeon with a slightly larger tail, never dreamed\nwhat the descendants of that pigeon would become through long-continued,\npartly unconscious and partly methodical selection. Perhaps the parent\nbird of all fantails had only fourteen tail-feathers somewhat expanded,\nlike the present Java fantail, or like individuals of other and distinct\nbreeds, in which as many as seventeen tail-feathers have been counted.\nPerhaps the first pouter-pigeon did not inflate its crop much more than\nthe turbit now does the upper part of its oesophagus,--a habit which\nis disregarded by all fanciers, as it is not one of the points of the\nbreed.\n\nNor let it be thought that some great deviation of structure would\nbe necessary to catch the fancier's eye: he perceives extremely small\ndifferences, and it is in human nature to value any novelty, however\nslight, in one's own possession. Nor must the value which would formerly\nbe set on any slight differences in the individuals of the same species,\nbe judged of by the value which would now be set on them, after several\nbreeds have once fairly been established. Many slight differences might,\nand indeed do now, arise amongst pigeons, which are rejected as faults\nor deviations from the standard of perfection of each breed. The common\ngoose has not given rise to any marked varieties; hence the Thoulouse\nand the common breed, which differ only in colour, that most fleeting of\ncharacters, have lately been exhibited as distinct at our poultry-shows.\n\nI think these views further explain what has sometimes been\nnoticed--namely that we know nothing about the origin or history of\nany of our domestic breeds. But, in fact, a breed, like a dialect of\na language, can hardly be said to have had a definite origin. A man\npreserves and breeds from an individual with some slight deviation of\nstructure, or takes more care than usual in matching his best animals\nand thus improves them, and the improved individuals slowly spread in\nthe immediate neighbourhood. But as yet they will hardly have a distinct\nname, and from being only slightly valued, their history will be\ndisregarded. When further improved by the same slow and gradual process,\nthey will spread more widely, and will get recognised as something\ndistinct and valuable, and will then probably first receive a provincial\nname. In semi-civilised countries, with little free communication, the\nspreading and knowledge of any new sub-breed will be a slow process.\nAs soon as the points of value of the new sub-breed are once fully\nacknowledged, the principle, as I have called it, of unconscious\nselection will always tend,--perhaps more at one period than at another,\nas the breed rises or falls in fashion,--perhaps more in one district\nthan in another, according to the state of civilisation of the\ninhabitants--slowly to add to the characteristic features of the breed,\nwhatever they may be. But the chance will be infinitely small of any\nrecord having been preserved of such slow, varying, and insensible\nchanges.\n\nI must now say a few words on the circumstances, favourable, or the\nreverse, to man's power of selection. A high degree of variability is\nobviously favourable, as freely giving the materials for selection to\nwork on; not that mere individual differences are not amply sufficient,\nwith extreme care, to allow of the accumulation of a large amount\nof modification in almost any desired direction. But as variations\nmanifestly useful or pleasing to man appear only occasionally, the\nchance of their appearance will be much increased by a large number\nof individuals being kept; and hence this comes to be of the highest\nimportance to success. On this principle Marshall has remarked, with\nrespect to the sheep of parts of Yorkshire, that \"as they generally\nbelong to poor people, and are mostly IN SMALL LOTS, they never can be\nimproved.\" On the other hand, nurserymen, from raising large stocks\nof the same plants, are generally far more successful than amateurs in\ngetting new and valuable varieties. The keeping of a large number of\nindividuals of a species in any country requires that the species should\nbe placed under favourable conditions of life, so as to breed freely in\nthat country. When the individuals of any species are scanty, all the\nindividuals, whatever their quality may be, will generally be allowed\nto breed, and this will effectually prevent selection. But probably the\nmost important point of all, is, that the animal or plant should be\nso highly useful to man, or so much valued by him, that the closest\nattention should be paid to even the slightest deviation in the\nqualities or structure of each individual. Unless such attention be paid\nnothing can be effected. I have seen it gravely remarked, that it was\nmost fortunate that the strawberry began to vary just when gardeners\nbegan to attend closely to this plant. No doubt the strawberry had\nalways varied since it was cultivated, but the slight varieties had been\nneglected. As soon, however, as gardeners picked out individual plants\nwith slightly larger, earlier, or better fruit, and raised seedlings\nfrom them, and again picked out the best seedlings and bred from them,\nthen, there appeared (aided by some crossing with distinct species)\nthose many admirable varieties of the strawberry which have been raised\nduring the last thirty or forty years.\n\nIn the case of animals with separate sexes, facility in preventing\ncrosses is an important element of success in the formation of new\nraces,--at least, in a country which is already stocked with other\nraces. In this respect enclosure of the land plays a part. Wandering\nsavages or the inhabitants of open plains rarely possess more than one\nbreed of the same species. Pigeons can be mated for life, and this is a\ngreat convenience to the fancier, for thus many races may be kept true,\nthough mingled in the same aviary; and this circumstance must have\nlargely favoured the improvement and formation of new breeds. Pigeons,\nI may add, can be propagated in great numbers and at a very quick rate,\nand inferior birds may be freely rejected, as when killed they serve\nfor food. On the other hand, cats, from their nocturnal rambling habits,\ncannot be matched, and, although so much valued by women and children,\nwe hardly ever see a distinct breed kept up; such breeds as we do\nsometimes see are almost always imported from some other country, often\nfrom islands. Although I do not doubt that some domestic animals vary\nless than others, yet the rarity or absence of distinct breeds of the\ncat, the donkey, peacock, goose, etc., may be attributed in main part\nto selection not having been brought into play: in cats, from the\ndifficulty in pairing them; in donkeys, from only a few being kept by\npoor people, and little attention paid to their breeding; in peacocks,\nfrom not being very easily reared and a large stock not kept; in geese,\nfrom being valuable only for two purposes, food and feathers, and more\nespecially from no pleasure having been felt in the display of distinct\nbreeds.\n\nTo sum up on the origin of our Domestic Races of animals and plants.\nI believe that the conditions of life, from their action on the\nreproductive system, are so far of the highest importance as causing\nvariability. I do not believe that variability is an inherent and\nnecessary contingency, under all circumstances, with all organic beings,\nas some authors have thought. The effects of variability are modified by\nvarious degrees of inheritance and of reversion. Variability is governed\nby many unknown laws, more especially by that of correlation of growth.\nSomething may be attributed to the direct action of the conditions of\nlife. Something must be attributed to use and disuse. The final result\nis thus rendered infinitely complex. In some cases, I do not doubt\nthat the intercrossing of species, aboriginally distinct, has played an\nimportant part in the origin of our domestic productions. When in\nany country several domestic breeds have once been established, their\noccasional intercrossing, with the aid of selection, has, no doubt,\nlargely aided in the formation of new sub-breeds; but the importance of\nthe crossing of varieties has, I believe, been greatly exaggerated, both\nin regard to animals and to those plants which are propagated by seed.\nIn plants which are temporarily propagated by cuttings, buds, etc., the\nimportance of the crossing both of distinct species and of varieties\nis immense; for the cultivator here quite disregards the extreme\nvariability both of hybrids and mongrels, and the frequent sterility of\nhybrids; but the cases of plants not propagated by seed are of little\nimportance to us, for their endurance is only temporary. Over all\nthese causes of Change I am convinced that the accumulative action\nof Selection, whether applied methodically and more quickly, or\nunconsciously and more slowly, but more efficiently, is by far the\npredominant Power.\n\n\n\n\n2. VARIATION UNDER NATURE.\n\nVariability. Individual differences. Doubtful species. Wide ranging,\nmuch diffused, and common species vary most. Species of the larger\ngenera in any country vary more than the species of the smaller genera.\nMany of the species of the larger genera resemble varieties in being\nvery closely, but unequally, related to each other, and in having\nrestricted ranges.\n\nBefore applying the principles arrived at in the last chapter to organic\nbeings in a state of nature, we must briefly discuss whether these\nlatter are subject to any variation. To treat this subject at all\nproperly, a long catalogue of dry facts should be given; but these I\nshall reserve for my future work. Nor shall I here discuss the various\ndefinitions which have been given of the term species. No one definition\nhas as yet satisfied all naturalists; yet every naturalist knows vaguely\nwhat he means when he speaks of a species. Generally the term includes\nthe unknown element of a distinct act of creation. The term \"variety\"\nis almost equally difficult to define; but here community of descent is\nalmost universally implied, though it can rarely be proved. We have also\nwhat are called monstrosities; but they graduate into varieties. By a\nmonstrosity I presume is meant some considerable deviation of structure\nin one part, either injurious to or not useful to the species, and\nnot generally propagated. Some authors use the term \"variation\" in a\ntechnical sense, as implying a modification directly due to the physical\nconditions of life; and \"variations\" in this sense are supposed not to\nbe inherited: but who can say that the dwarfed condition of shells in\nthe brackish waters of the Baltic, or dwarfed plants on Alpine summits,\nor the thicker fur of an animal from far northwards, would not in some\ncases be inherited for at least some few generations? and in this case I\npresume that the form would be called a variety.\n\nAgain, we have many slight differences which may be called individual\ndifferences, such as are known frequently to appear in the offspring\nfrom the same parents, or which may be presumed to have thus arisen,\nfrom being frequently observed in the individuals of the same species\ninhabiting the same confined locality. No one supposes that all the\nindividuals of the same species are cast in the very same mould. These\nindividual differences are highly important for us, as they afford\nmaterials for natural selection to accumulate, in the same manner as\nman can accumulate in any given direction individual differences in his\ndomesticated productions. These individual differences generally affect\nwhat naturalists consider unimportant parts; but I could show by a long\ncatalogue of facts, that parts which must be called important, whether\nviewed under a physiological or classificatory point of view, sometimes\nvary in the individuals of the same species. I am convinced that the\nmost experienced naturalist would be surprised at the number of the\ncases of variability, even in important parts of structure, which he\ncould collect on good authority, as I have collected, during a course of\nyears. It should be remembered that systematists are far from pleased at\nfinding variability in important characters, and that there are not\nmany men who will laboriously examine internal and important organs, and\ncompare them in many specimens of the same species. I should never\nhave expected that the branching of the main nerves close to the great\ncentral ganglion of an insect would have been variable in the same\nspecies; I should have expected that changes of this nature could have\nbeen effected only by slow degrees: yet quite recently Mr. Lubbock has\nshown a degree of variability in these main nerves in Coccus, which may\nalmost be compared to the irregular branching of the stem of a tree.\nThis philosophical naturalist, I may add, has also quite recently shown\nthat the muscles in the larvae of certain insects are very far from\nuniform. Authors sometimes argue in a circle when they state that\nimportant organs never vary; for these same authors practically rank\nthat character as important (as some few naturalists have honestly\nconfessed) which does not vary; and, under this point of view, no\ninstance of an important part varying will ever be found: but under any\nother point of view many instances assuredly can be given.\n\nThere is one point connected with individual differences, which seems\nto me extremely perplexing: I refer to those genera which have sometimes\nbeen called \"protean\" or \"polymorphic,\" in which the species present\nan inordinate amount of variation; and hardly two naturalists can agree\nwhich forms to rank as species and which as varieties. We may instance\nRubus, Rosa, and Hieracium amongst plants, several genera of insects,\nand several genera of Brachiopod shells. In most polymorphic genera\nsome of the species have fixed and definite characters. Genera which\nare polymorphic in one country seem to be, with some few exceptions,\npolymorphic in other countries, and likewise, judging from Brachiopod\nshells, at former periods of time. These facts seem to be very\nperplexing, for they seem to show that this kind of variability is\nindependent of the conditions of life. I am inclined to suspect that we\nsee in these polymorphic genera variations in points of structure which\nare of no service or disservice to the species, and which consequently\nhave not been seized on and rendered definite by natural selection, as\nhereafter will be explained.\n\nThose forms which possess in some considerable degree the character of\nspecies, but which are so closely similar to some other forms, or are so\nclosely linked to them by intermediate gradations, that naturalists do\nnot like to rank them as distinct species, are in several respects the\nmost important for us. We have every reason to believe that many of\nthese doubtful and closely-allied forms have permanently retained their\ncharacters in their own country for a long time; for as long, as far as\nwe know, as have good and true species. Practically, when a naturalist\ncan unite two forms together by others having intermediate characters,\nhe treats the one as a variety of the other, ranking the most common,\nbut sometimes the one first described, as the species, and the other\nas the variety. But cases of great difficulty, which I will not here\nenumerate, sometimes occur in deciding whether or not to rank one\nform as a variety of another, even when they are closely connected by\nintermediate links; nor will the commonly-assumed hybrid nature of the\nintermediate links always remove the difficulty. In very many cases,\nhowever, one form is ranked as a variety of another, not because the\nintermediate links have actually been found, but because analogy leads\nthe observer to suppose either that they do now somewhere exist, or may\nformerly have existed; and here a wide door for the entry of doubt and\nconjecture is opened.\n\nHence, in determining whether a form should be ranked as a species or\na variety, the opinion of naturalists having sound judgment and wide\nexperience seems the only guide to follow. We must, however, in many\ncases, decide by a majority of naturalists, for few well-marked and\nwell-known varieties can be named which have not been ranked as species\nby at least some competent judges.\n\nThat varieties of this doubtful nature are far from uncommon cannot be\ndisputed. Compare the several floras of Great Britain, of France or\nof the United States, drawn up by different botanists, and see what\na surprising number of forms have been ranked by one botanist as good\nspecies, and by another as mere varieties. Mr. H. C. Watson, to whom I\nlie under deep obligation for assistance of all kinds, has marked for\nme 182 British plants, which are generally considered as varieties, but\nwhich have all been ranked by botanists as species; and in making this\nlist he has omitted many trifling varieties, but which nevertheless have\nbeen ranked by some botanists as species, and he has entirely omitted\nseveral highly polymorphic genera. Under genera, including the most\npolymorphic forms, Mr. Babington gives 251 species, whereas Mr. Bentham\ngives only 112,--a difference of 139 doubtful forms! Amongst animals\nwhich unite for each birth, and which are highly locomotive, doubtful\nforms, ranked by one zoologist as a species and by another as a variety,\ncan rarely be found within the same country, but are common in separated\nareas. How many of those birds and insects in North America and Europe,\nwhich differ very slightly from each other, have been ranked by one\neminent naturalist as undoubted species, and by another as varieties,\nor, as they are often called, as geographical races! Many years ago,\nwhen comparing, and seeing others compare, the birds from the separate\nislands of the Galapagos Archipelago, both one with another, and with\nthose from the American mainland, I was much struck how entirely vague\nand arbitrary is the distinction between species and varieties. On the\nislets of the little Madeira group there are many insects which are\ncharacterized as varieties in Mr. Wollaston's admirable work, but\nwhich it cannot be doubted would be ranked as distinct species by many\nentomologists. Even Ireland has a few animals, now generally regarded\nas varieties, but which have been ranked as species by some zoologists.\nSeveral most experienced ornithologists consider our British red grouse\nas only a strongly-marked race of a Norwegian species, whereas the\ngreater number rank it as an undoubted species peculiar to Great\nBritain. A wide distance between the homes of two doubtful forms leads\nmany naturalists to rank both as distinct species; but what distance, it\nhas been well asked, will suffice? if that between America and Europe\nis ample, will that between the Continent and the Azores, or Madeira, or\nthe Canaries, or Ireland, be sufficient? It must be admitted that many\nforms, considered by highly-competent judges as varieties, have so\nperfectly the character of species that they are ranked by other\nhighly-competent judges as good and true species. But to discuss whether\nthey are rightly called species or varieties, before any definition of\nthese terms has been generally accepted, is vainly to beat the air.\n\nMany of the cases of strongly-marked varieties or doubtful species well\ndeserve consideration; for several interesting lines of argument, from\ngeographical distribution, analogical variation, hybridism, etc., have\nbeen brought to bear on the attempt to determine their rank. I will here\ngive only a single instance,--the well-known one of the primrose and\ncowslip, or Primula veris and elatior. These plants differ considerably\nin appearance; they have a different flavour and emit a different\nodour; they flower at slightly different periods; they grow in somewhat\ndifferent stations; they ascend mountains to different heights; they\nhave different geographical ranges; and lastly, according to very\nnumerous experiments made during several years by that most careful\nobserver Gartner, they can be crossed only with much difficulty.\nWe could hardly wish for better evidence of the two forms being\nspecifically distinct. On the other hand, they are united by many\nintermediate links, and it is very doubtful whether these links are\nhybrids; and there is, as it seems to me, an overwhelming amount of\nexperimental evidence, showing that they descend from common parents,\nand consequently must be ranked as varieties.\n\nClose investigation, in most cases, will bring naturalists to an\nagreement how to rank doubtful forms. Yet it must be confessed, that it\nis in the best-known countries that we find the greatest number of forms\nof doubtful value. I have been struck with the fact, that if any animal\nor plant in a state of nature be highly useful to man, or from any cause\nclosely attract his attention, varieties of it will almost universally\nbe found recorded. These varieties, moreover, will be often ranked by\nsome authors as species. Look at the common oak, how closely it has\nbeen studied; yet a German author makes more than a dozen species out\nof forms, which are very generally considered as varieties; and in\nthis country the highest botanical authorities and practical men can be\nquoted to show that the sessile and pedunculated oaks are either good\nand distinct species or mere varieties.\n\nWhen a young naturalist commences the study of a group of organisms\nquite unknown to him, he is at first much perplexed to determine what\ndifferences to consider as specific, and what as varieties; for he\nknows nothing of the amount and kind of variation to which the group\nis subject; and this shows, at least, how very generally there is some\nvariation. But if he confine his attention to one class within one\ncountry, he will soon make up his mind how to rank most of the doubtful\nforms. His general tendency will be to make many species, for he will\nbecome impressed, just like the pigeon or poultry-fancier before alluded\nto, with the amount of difference in the forms which he is continually\nstudying; and he has little general knowledge of analogical variation\nin other groups and in other countries, by which to correct his first\nimpressions. As he extends the range of his observations, he will meet\nwith more cases of difficulty; for he will encounter a greater number\nof closely-allied forms. But if his observations be widely extended, he\nwill in the end generally be enabled to make up his own mind which to\ncall varieties and which species; but he will succeed in this at the\nexpense of admitting much variation,--and the truth of this admission\nwill often be disputed by other naturalists. When, moreover, he comes to\nstudy allied forms brought from countries not now continuous, in which\ncase he can hardly hope to find the intermediate links between his\ndoubtful forms, he will have to trust almost entirely to analogy, and\nhis difficulties will rise to a climax.\n\nCertainly no clear line of demarcation has as yet been drawn between\nspecies and sub-species--that is, the forms which in the opinion of some\nnaturalists come very near to, but do not quite arrive at the rank of\nspecies; or, again, between sub-species and well-marked varieties, or\nbetween lesser varieties and individual differences. These differences\nblend into each other in an insensible series; and a series impresses\nthe mind with the idea of an actual passage.\n\nHence I look at individual differences, though of small interest to\nthe systematist, as of high importance for us, as being the first step\ntowards such slight varieties as are barely thought worth recording\nin works on natural history. And I look at varieties which are in any\ndegree more distinct and permanent, as steps leading to more strongly\nmarked and more permanent varieties; and at these latter, as leading to\nsub-species, and to species. The passage from one stage of difference\nto another and higher stage may be, in some cases, due merely to the\nlong-continued action of different physical conditions in two different\nregions; but I have not much faith in this view; and I attribute the\npassage of a variety, from a state in which it differs very slightly\nfrom its parent to one in which it differs more, to the action of\nnatural selection in accumulating (as will hereafter be more fully\nexplained) differences of structure in certain definite directions.\nHence I believe a well-marked variety may be justly called an incipient\nspecies; but whether this belief be justifiable must be judged of by\nthe general weight of the several facts and views given throughout this\nwork.\n\nIt need not be supposed that all varieties or incipient species\nnecessarily attain the rank of species. They may whilst in this\nincipient state become extinct, or they may endure as varieties for very\nlong periods, as has been shown to be the case by Mr. Wollaston with the\nvarieties of certain fossil land-shells in Madeira. If a variety were\nto flourish so as to exceed in numbers the parent species, it would then\nrank as the species, and the species as the variety; or it might come to\nsupplant and exterminate the parent species; or both might co-exist, and\nboth rank as independent species. But we shall hereafter have to return\nto this subject.\n\nFrom these remarks it will be seen that I look at the term species,\nas one arbitrarily given for the sake of convenience to a set of\nindividuals closely resembling each other, and that it does not\nessentially differ from the term variety, which is given to less\ndistinct and more fluctuating forms. The term variety, again,\nin comparison with mere individual differences, is also applied\narbitrarily, and for mere convenience sake.\n\nGuided by theoretical considerations, I thought that some interesting\nresults might be obtained in regard to the nature and relations of the\nspecies which vary most, by tabulating all the varieties in several\nwell-worked floras. At first this seemed a simple task; but Mr. H. C.\nWatson, to whom I am much indebted for valuable advice and assistance\non this subject, soon convinced me that there were many difficulties, as\ndid subsequently Dr. Hooker, even in stronger terms. I shall reserve\nfor my future work the discussion of these difficulties, and the tables\nthemselves of the proportional numbers of the varying species.\nDr. Hooker permits me to add, that after having carefully read my\nmanuscript, and examined the tables, he thinks that the following\nstatements are fairly well established. The whole subject, however,\ntreated as it necessarily here is with much brevity, is rather\nperplexing, and allusions cannot be avoided to the \"struggle for\nexistence,\" \"divergence of character,\" and other questions, hereafter to\nbe discussed.\n\nAlph. De Candolle and others have shown that plants which have very wide\nranges generally present varieties; and this might have been expected,\nas they become exposed to diverse physical conditions, and as they\ncome into competition (which, as we shall hereafter see, is a far more\nimportant circumstance) with different sets of organic beings. But my\ntables further show that, in any limited country, the species which are\nmost common, that is abound most in individuals, and the species\nwhich are most widely diffused within their own country (and this is a\ndifferent consideration from wide range, and to a certain extent from\ncommonness), often give rise to varieties sufficiently well-marked to\nhave been recorded in botanical works. Hence it is the most flourishing,\nor, as they may be called, the dominant species,--those which range\nwidely over the world, are the most diffused in their own country,\nand are the most numerous in individuals,--which oftenest produce\nwell-marked varieties, or, as I consider them, incipient species. And\nthis, perhaps, might have been anticipated; for, as varieties, in order\nto become in any degree permanent, necessarily have to struggle with the\nother inhabitants of the country, the species which are already dominant\nwill be the most likely to yield offspring which, though in some slight\ndegree modified, will still inherit those advantages that enabled their\nparents to become dominant over their compatriots.\n\nIf the plants inhabiting a country and described in any Flora be divided\ninto two equal masses, all those in the larger genera being placed\non one side, and all those in the smaller genera on the other side, a\nsomewhat larger number of the very common and much diffused or dominant\nspecies will be found on the side of the larger genera. This, again,\nmight have been anticipated; for the mere fact of many species of the\nsame genus inhabiting any country, shows that there is something in the\norganic or inorganic conditions of that country favourable to the genus;\nand, consequently, we might have expected to have found in the larger\ngenera, or those including many species, a large proportional number of\ndominant species. But so many causes tend to obscure this result, that\nI am surprised that my tables show even a small majority on the side of\nthe larger genera. I will here allude to only two causes of obscurity.\nFresh-water and salt-loving plants have generally very wide ranges and\nare much diffused, but this seems to be connected with the nature of the\nstations inhabited by them, and has little or no relation to the size of\nthe genera to which the species belong. Again, plants low in the scale\nof organisation are generally much more widely diffused than plants\nhigher in the scale; and here again there is no close relation to the\nsize of the genera. The cause of lowly-organised plants ranging widely\nwill be discussed in our chapter on geographical distribution.\n\nFrom looking at species as only strongly-marked and well-defined\nvarieties, I was led to anticipate that the species of the larger genera\nin each country would oftener present varieties, than the species of the\nsmaller genera; for wherever many closely related species (i.e. species\nof the same genus) have been formed, many varieties or incipient species\nought, as a general rule, to be now forming. Where many large trees\ngrow, we expect to find saplings. Where many species of a genus have\nbeen formed through variation, circumstances have been favourable\nfor variation; and hence we might expect that the circumstances would\ngenerally be still favourable to variation. On the other hand, if we\nlook at each species as a special act of creation, there is no apparent\nreason why more varieties should occur in a group having many species,\nthan in one having few.\n\nTo test the truth of this anticipation I have arranged the plants of\ntwelve countries, and the coleopterous insects of two districts, into\ntwo nearly equal masses, the species of the larger genera on one side,\nand those of the smaller genera on the other side, and it has invariably\nproved to be the case that a larger proportion of the species on the\nside of the larger genera present varieties, than on the side of the\nsmaller genera. Moreover, the species of the large genera which present\nany varieties, invariably present a larger average number of varieties\nthan do the species of the small genera. Both these results follow when\nanother division is made, and when all the smallest genera, with from\nonly one to four species, are absolutely excluded from the tables.\nThese facts are of plain signification on the view that species are only\nstrongly marked and permanent varieties; for wherever many species of\nthe same genus have been formed, or where, if we may use the expression,\nthe manufactory of species has been active, we ought generally to find\nthe manufactory still in action, more especially as we have every reason\nto believe the process of manufacturing new species to be a slow one.\nAnd this certainly is the case, if varieties be looked at as incipient\nspecies; for my tables clearly show as a general rule that, wherever\nmany species of a genus have been formed, the species of that genus\npresent a number of varieties, that is of incipient species, beyond the\naverage. It is not that all large genera are now varying much, and are\nthus increasing in the number of their species, or that no small genera\nare now varying and increasing; for if this had been so, it would have\nbeen fatal to my theory; inasmuch as geology plainly tells us that small\ngenera have in the lapse of time often increased greatly in size;\nand that large genera have often come to their maxima, declined, and\ndisappeared. All that we want to show is, that where many species of a\ngenus have been formed, on an average many are still forming; and this\nholds good.\n\nThere are other relations between the species of large genera and their\nrecorded varieties which deserve notice. We have seen that there is no\ninfallible criterion by which to distinguish species and well-marked\nvarieties; and in those cases in which intermediate links have not been\nfound between doubtful forms, naturalists are compelled to come to\na determination by the amount of difference between them, judging by\nanalogy whether or not the amount suffices to raise one or both to the\nrank of species. Hence the amount of difference is one very important\ncriterion in settling whether two forms should be ranked as species or\nvarieties. Now Fries has remarked in regard to plants, and Westwood in\nregard to insects, that in large genera the amount of difference between\nthe species is often exceedingly small. I have endeavoured to test this\nnumerically by averages, and, as far as my imperfect results go, they\nalways confirm the view. I have also consulted some sagacious and most\nexperienced observers, and, after deliberation, they concur in this\nview. In this respect, therefore, the species of the larger genera\nresemble varieties, more than do the species of the smaller genera.\nOr the case may be put in another way, and it may be said, that in\nthe larger genera, in which a number of varieties or incipient species\ngreater than the average are now manufacturing, many of the species\nalready manufactured still to a certain extent resemble varieties, for\nthey differ from each other by a less than usual amount of difference.\n\nMoreover, the species of the large genera are related to each other, in\nthe same manner as the varieties of any one species are related to\neach other. No naturalist pretends that all the species of a genus are\nequally distinct from each other; they may generally be divided into\nsub-genera, or sections, or lesser groups. As Fries has well remarked,\nlittle groups of species are generally clustered like satellites around\ncertain other species. And what are varieties but groups of forms,\nunequally related to each other, and clustered round certain forms--that\nis, round their parent-species? Undoubtedly there is one most important\npoint of difference between varieties and species; namely, that the\namount of difference between varieties, when compared with each other or\nwith their parent-species, is much less than that between the species of\nthe same genus. But when we come to discuss the principle, as I call it,\nof Divergence of Character, we shall see how this may be explained, and\nhow the lesser differences between varieties will tend to increase into\nthe greater differences between species.\n\nThere is one other point which seems to me worth notice. Varieties\ngenerally have much restricted ranges: this statement is indeed scarcely\nmore than a truism, for if a variety were found to have a wider range\nthan that of its supposed parent-species, their denominations ought to\nbe reversed. But there is also reason to believe, that those species\nwhich are very closely allied to other species, and in so far resemble\nvarieties, often have much restricted ranges. For instance, Mr. H. C.\nWatson has marked for me in the well-sifted London Catalogue of plants\n(4th edition) 63 plants which are therein ranked as species, but which\nhe considers as so closely allied to other species as to be of doubtful\nvalue: these 63 reputed species range on an average over 6.9 of the\nprovinces into which Mr. Watson has divided Great Britain. Now, in this\nsame catalogue, 53 acknowledged varieties are recorded, and these range\nover 7.7 provinces; whereas, the species to which these varieties belong\nrange over 14.3 provinces. So that the acknowledged varieties have very\nnearly the same restricted average range, as have those very closely\nallied forms, marked for me by Mr. Watson as doubtful species, but which\nare almost universally ranked by British botanists as good and true\nspecies.\n\nFinally, then, varieties have the same general characters as species,\nfor they cannot be distinguished from species,--except, firstly, by\nthe discovery of intermediate linking forms, and the occurrence of\nsuch links cannot affect the actual characters of the forms which they\nconnect; and except, secondly, by a certain amount of difference, for\ntwo forms, if differing very little, are generally ranked as varieties,\nnotwithstanding that intermediate linking forms have not been\ndiscovered; but the amount of difference considered necessary to give to\ntwo forms the rank of species is quite indefinite. In genera having more\nthan the average number of species in any country, the species of these\ngenera have more than the average number of varieties. In large genera\nthe species are apt to be closely, but unequally, allied together,\nforming little clusters round certain species. Species very closely\nallied to other species apparently have restricted ranges. In all these\nseveral respects the species of large genera present a strong analogy\nwith varieties. And we can clearly understand these analogies, if\nspecies have once existed as varieties, and have thus originated:\nwhereas, these analogies are utterly inexplicable if each species has\nbeen independently created.\n\nWe have, also, seen that it is the most flourishing and dominant species\nof the larger genera which on an average vary most; and varieties, as\nwe shall hereafter see, tend to become converted into new and distinct\nspecies. The larger genera thus tend to become larger; and throughout\nnature the forms of life which are now dominant tend to become still\nmore dominant by leaving many modified and dominant descendants. But by\nsteps hereafter to be explained, the larger genera also tend to break up\ninto smaller genera. And thus, the forms of life throughout the universe\nbecome divided into groups subordinate to groups.\n\n\n\n\n3. STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE.\n\nBears on natural selection. The term used in a wide sense. Geometrical\npowers of increase. Rapid increase of naturalised animals and plants.\nNature of the checks to increase. Competition universal. Effects of\nclimate. Protection from the number of individuals. Complex relations of\nall animals and plants throughout nature. Struggle for life most severe\nbetween individuals and varieties of the same species; often severe\nbetween species of the same genus. The relation of organism to organism\nthe most important of all relations.\n\nBefore entering on the subject of this chapter, I must make a few\npreliminary remarks, to show how the struggle for existence bears on\nNatural Selection. It has been seen in the last chapter that\namongst organic beings in a state of nature there is some individual\nvariability; indeed I am not aware that this has ever been disputed.\nIt is immaterial for us whether a multitude of doubtful forms be called\nspecies or sub-species or varieties; what rank, for instance, the two or\nthree hundred doubtful forms of British plants are entitled to hold,\nif the existence of any well-marked varieties be admitted. But the\nmere existence of individual variability and of some few well-marked\nvarieties, though necessary as the foundation for the work, helps us but\nlittle in understanding how species arise in nature. How have all those\nexquisite adaptations of one part of the organisation to another part,\nand to the conditions of life, and of one distinct organic being to\nanother being, been perfected? We see these beautiful co-adaptations\nmost plainly in the woodpecker and missletoe; and only a little\nless plainly in the humblest parasite which clings to the hairs of a\nquadruped or feathers of a bird; in the structure of the beetle which\ndives through the water; in the plumed seed which is wafted by the\ngentlest breeze; in short, we see beautiful adaptations everywhere and\nin every part of the organic world.\n\nAgain, it may be asked, how is it that varieties, which I have called\nincipient species, become ultimately converted into good and distinct\nspecies, which in most cases obviously differ from each other far\nmore than do the varieties of the same species? How do those groups of\nspecies, which constitute what are called distinct genera, and which\ndiffer from each other more than do the species of the same genus,\narise? All these results, as we shall more fully see in the next\nchapter, follow inevitably from the struggle for life. Owing to this\nstruggle for life, any variation, however slight and from whatever cause\nproceeding, if it be in any degree profitable to an individual of any\nspecies, in its infinitely complex relations to other organic beings and\nto external nature, will tend to the preservation of that individual,\nand will generally be inherited by its offspring. The offspring,\nalso, will thus have a better chance of surviving, for, of the many\nindividuals of any species which are periodically born, but a small\nnumber can survive. I have called this principle, by which each slight\nvariation, if useful, is preserved, by the term of Natural Selection,\nin order to mark its relation to man's power of selection. We have seen\nthat man by selection can certainly produce great results, and can adapt\norganic beings to his own uses, through the accumulation of slight\nbut useful variations, given to him by the hand of Nature. But Natural\nSelection, as we shall hereafter see, is a power incessantly ready for\naction, and is as immeasurably superior to man's feeble efforts, as the\nworks of Nature are to those of Art.\n\nWe will now discuss in a little more detail the struggle for existence.\nIn my future work this subject shall be treated, as it well deserves,\nat much greater length. The elder De Candolle and Lyell have largely\nand philosophically shown that all organic beings are exposed to severe\ncompetition. In regard to plants, no one has treated this subject with\nmore spirit and ability than W. Herbert, Dean of Manchester, evidently\nthe result of his great horticultural knowledge. Nothing is easier than\nto admit in words the truth of the universal struggle for life, or more\ndifficult--at least I have found it so--than constantly to bear this\nconclusion in mind. Yet unless it be thoroughly engrained in the mind,\nI am convinced that the whole economy of nature, with every fact on\ndistribution, rarity, abundance, extinction, and variation, will be\ndimly seen or quite misunderstood. We behold the face of nature bright\nwith gladness, we often see superabundance of food; we do not see, or\nwe forget, that the birds which are idly singing round us mostly live on\ninsects or seeds, and are thus constantly destroying life; or we forget\nhow largely these songsters, or their eggs, or their nestlings, are\ndestroyed by birds and beasts of prey; we do not always bear in mind,\nthat though food may be now superabundant, it is not so at all seasons\nof each recurring year.\n\nI should premise that I use the term Struggle for Existence in a large\nand metaphorical sense, including dependence of one being on another,\nand including (which is more important) not only the life of the\nindividual, but success in leaving progeny. Two canine animals in a time\nof dearth, may be truly said to struggle with each other which shall get\nfood and live. But a plant on the edge of a desert is said to struggle\nfor life against the drought, though more properly it should be said to\nbe dependent on the moisture. A plant which annually produces a thousand\nseeds, of which on an average only one comes to maturity, may be more\ntruly said to struggle with the plants of the same and other kinds which\nalready clothe the ground. The missletoe is dependent on the apple and a\nfew other trees, but can only in a far-fetched sense be said to struggle\nwith these trees, for if too many of these parasites grow on the same\ntree, it will languish and die. But several seedling missletoes, growing\nclose together on the same branch, may more truly be said to struggle\nwith each other. As the missletoe is disseminated by birds, its\nexistence depends on birds; and it may metaphorically be said to\nstruggle with other fruit-bearing plants, in order to tempt birds to\ndevour and thus disseminate its seeds rather than those of other\nplants. In these several senses, which pass into each other, I use for\nconvenience sake the general term of struggle for existence.\n\nA struggle for existence inevitably follows from the high rate at which\nall organic beings tend to increase. Every being, which during its\nnatural lifetime produces several eggs or seeds, must suffer destruction\nduring some period of its life, and during some season or occasional\nyear, otherwise, on the principle of geometrical increase, its numbers\nwould quickly become so inordinately great that no country could support\nthe product. Hence, as more individuals are produced than can possibly\nsurvive, there must in every case be a struggle for existence, either\none individual with another of the same species, or with the individuals\nof distinct species, or with the physical conditions of life. It is the\ndoctrine of Malthus applied with manifold force to the whole animal and\nvegetable kingdoms; for in this case there can be no artificial increase\nof food, and no prudential restraint from marriage. Although some\nspecies may be now increasing, more or less rapidly, in numbers, all\ncannot do so, for the world would not hold them.\n\nThere is no exception to the rule that every organic being naturally\nincreases at so high a rate, that if not destroyed, the earth would soon\nbe covered by the progeny of a single pair. Even slow-breeding man has\ndoubled in twenty-five years, and at this rate, in a few thousand years,\nthere would literally not be standing room for his progeny. Linnaeus has\ncalculated that if an annual plant produced only two seeds--and there is\nno plant so unproductive as this--and their seedlings next year produced\ntwo, and so on, then in twenty years there would be a million plants.\nThe elephant is reckoned to be the slowest breeder of all known animals,\nand I have taken some pains to estimate its probable minimum rate of\nnatural increase: it will be under the mark to assume that it breeds\nwhen thirty years old, and goes on breeding till ninety years old,\nbringing forth three pair of young in this interval; if this be so,\nat the end of the fifth century there would be alive fifteen million\nelephants, descended from the first pair.\n\nBut we have better evidence on this subject than mere theoretical\ncalculations, namely, the numerous recorded cases of the astonishingly\nrapid increase of various animals in a state of nature, when\ncircumstances have been favourable to them during two or three following\nseasons. Still more striking is the evidence from our domestic animals\nof many kinds which have run wild in several parts of the world: if the\nstatements of the rate of increase of slow-breeding cattle and horses\nin South America, and latterly in Australia, had not been well\nauthenticated, they would have been quite incredible. So it is with\nplants: cases could be given of introduced plants which have become\ncommon throughout whole islands in a period of less than ten years.\nSeveral of the plants now most numerous over the wide plains of La\nPlata, clothing square leagues of surface almost to the exclusion of\nall other plants, have been introduced from Europe; and there are plants\nwhich now range in India, as I hear from Dr. Falconer, from Cape\nComorin to the Himalaya, which have been imported from America since its\ndiscovery. In such cases, and endless instances could be given, no one\nsupposes that the fertility of these animals or plants has been\nsuddenly and temporarily increased in any sensible degree. The obvious\nexplanation is that the conditions of life have been very favourable,\nand that there has consequently been less destruction of the old and\nyoung, and that nearly all the young have been enabled to breed. In such\ncases the geometrical ratio of increase, the result of which never fails\nto be surprising, simply explains the extraordinarily rapid increase and\nwide diffusion of naturalised productions in their new homes.\n\nIn a state of nature almost every plant produces seed, and amongst\nanimals there are very few which do not annually pair. Hence we may\nconfidently assert, that all plants and animals are tending to increase\nat a geometrical ratio, that all would most rapidly stock every station\nin which they could any how exist, and that the geometrical tendency\nto increase must be checked by destruction at some period of life. Our\nfamiliarity with the larger domestic animals tends, I think, to mislead\nus: we see no great destruction falling on them, and we forget that\nthousands are annually slaughtered for food, and that in a state of\nnature an equal number would have somehow to be disposed of.\n\nThe only difference between organisms which annually produce eggs or\nseeds by the thousand, and those which produce extremely few, is,\nthat the slow-breeders would require a few more years to people, under\nfavourable conditions, a whole district, let it be ever so large. The\ncondor lays a couple of eggs and the ostrich a score, and yet in the\nsame country the condor may be the more numerous of the two: the Fulmar\npetrel lays but one egg, yet it is believed to be the most numerous bird\nin the world. One fly deposits hundreds of eggs, and another, like the\nhippobosca, a single one; but this difference does not determine how\nmany individuals of the two species can be supported in a district.\nA large number of eggs is of some importance to those species, which\ndepend on a rapidly fluctuating amount of food, for it allows them\nrapidly to increase in number. But the real importance of a large number\nof eggs or seeds is to make up for much destruction at some period of\nlife; and this period in the great majority of cases is an early one. If\nan animal can in any way protect its own eggs or young, a small number\nmay be produced, and yet the average stock be fully kept up; but if many\neggs or young are destroyed, many must be produced, or the species will\nbecome extinct. It would suffice to keep up the full number of a tree,\nwhich lived on an average for a thousand years, if a single seed were\nproduced once in a thousand years, supposing that this seed were never\ndestroyed, and could be ensured to germinate in a fitting place. So that\nin all cases, the average number of any animal or plant depends only\nindirectly on the number of its eggs or seeds.\n\nIn looking at Nature, it is most necessary to keep the foregoing\nconsiderations always in mind--never to forget that every single organic\nbeing around us may be said to be striving to the utmost to increase in\nnumbers; that each lives by a struggle at some period of its life; that\nheavy destruction inevitably falls either on the young or old, during\neach generation or at recurrent intervals. Lighten any check, mitigate\nthe destruction ever so little, and the number of the species will\nalmost instantaneously increase to any amount. The face of Nature may\nbe compared to a yielding surface, with ten thousand sharp wedges packed\nclose together and driven inwards by incessant blows, sometimes one\nwedge being struck, and then another with greater force.\n\nWhat checks the natural tendency of each species to increase in number\nis most obscure. Look at the most vigorous species; by as much as it\nswarms in numbers, by so much will its tendency to increase be still\nfurther increased. We know not exactly what the checks are in even\none single instance. Nor will this surprise any one who reflects how\nignorant we are on this head, even in regard to mankind, so incomparably\nbetter known than any other animal. This subject has been ably treated\nby several authors, and I shall, in my future work, discuss some of the\nchecks at considerable length, more especially in regard to the feral\nanimals of South America. Here I will make only a few remarks, just to\nrecall to the reader's mind some of the chief points. Eggs or very young\nanimals seem generally to suffer most, but this is not invariably the\ncase. With plants there is a vast destruction of seeds, but, from some\nobservations which I have made, I believe that it is the seedlings which\nsuffer most from germinating in ground already thickly stocked with\nother plants. Seedlings, also, are destroyed in vast numbers by various\nenemies; for instance, on a piece of ground three feet long and two\nwide, dug and cleared, and where there could be no choking from other\nplants, I marked all the seedlings of our native weeds as they came up,\nand out of the 357 no less than 295 were destroyed, chiefly by slugs\nand insects. If turf which has long been mown, and the case would be the\nsame with turf closely browsed by quadrupeds, be let to grow, the more\nvigorous plants gradually kill the less vigorous, though fully grown,\nplants: thus out of twenty species growing on a little plot of turf\n(three feet by four) nine species perished from the other species being\nallowed to grow up freely.\n\nThe amount of food for each species of course gives the extreme limit\nto which each can increase; but very frequently it is not the obtaining\nfood, but the serving as prey to other animals, which determines the\naverage numbers of a species. Thus, there seems to be little doubt that\nthe stock of partridges, grouse, and hares on any large estate depends\nchiefly on the destruction of vermin. If not one head of game were shot\nduring the next twenty years in England, and, at the same time, if no\nvermin were destroyed, there would, in all probability, be less game\nthan at present, although hundreds of thousands of game animals are now\nannually killed. On the other hand, in some cases, as with the elephant\nand rhinoceros, none are destroyed by beasts of prey: even the tiger in\nIndia most rarely dares to attack a young elephant protected by its dam.\n\nClimate plays an important part in determining the average numbers of a\nspecies, and periodical seasons of extreme cold or drought, I believe\nto be the most effective of all checks. I estimated that the winter of\n1854-55 destroyed four-fifths of the birds in my own grounds; and this\nis a tremendous destruction, when we remember that ten per cent. is an\nextraordinarily severe mortality from epidemics with man. The action of\nclimate seems at first sight to be quite independent of the struggle for\nexistence; but in so far as climate chiefly acts in reducing food, it\nbrings on the most severe struggle between the individuals, whether of\nthe same or of distinct species, which subsist on the same kind of food.\nEven when climate, for instance extreme cold, acts directly, it will\nbe the least vigorous, or those which have got least food through the\nadvancing winter, which will suffer most. When we travel from south to\nnorth, or from a damp region to a dry, we invariably see some species\ngradually getting rarer and rarer, and finally disappearing; and the\nchange of climate being conspicuous, we are tempted to attribute the\nwhole effect to its direct action. But this is a very false view: we\nforget that each species, even where it most abounds, is constantly\nsuffering enormous destruction at some period of its life, from enemies\nor from competitors for the same place and food; and if these enemies\nor competitors be in the least degree favoured by any slight change of\nclimate, they will increase in numbers, and, as each area is already\nfully stocked with inhabitants, the other species will decrease. When\nwe travel southward and see a species decreasing in numbers, we may feel\nsure that the cause lies quite as much in other species being favoured,\nas in this one being hurt. So it is when we travel northward, but in\na somewhat lesser degree, for the number of species of all kinds,\nand therefore of competitors, decreases northwards; hence in going\nnorthward, or in ascending a mountain, we far oftener meet with stunted\nforms, due to the DIRECTLY injurious action of climate, than we do in\nproceeding southwards or in descending a mountain. When we reach\nthe Arctic regions, or snow-capped summits, or absolute deserts, the\nstruggle for life is almost exclusively with the elements.\n\nThat climate acts in main part indirectly by favouring other species, we\nmay clearly see in the prodigious number of plants in our gardens\nwhich can perfectly well endure our climate, but which never become\nnaturalised, for they cannot compete with our native plants, nor resist\ndestruction by our native animals.\n\nWhen a species, owing to highly favourable circumstances, increases\ninordinately in numbers in a small tract, epidemics--at least, this\nseems generally to occur with our game animals--often ensue: and here\nwe have a limiting check independent of the struggle for life. But even\nsome of these so-called epidemics appear to be due to parasitic worms,\nwhich have from some cause, possibly in part through facility of\ndiffusion amongst the crowded animals, been disproportionably favoured:\nand here comes in a sort of struggle between the parasite and its prey.\n\nOn the other hand, in many cases, a large stock of individuals of the\nsame species, relatively to the numbers of its enemies, is absolutely\nnecessary for its preservation. Thus we can easily raise plenty of\ncorn and rape-seed, etc., in our fields, because the seeds are in great\nexcess compared with the number of birds which feed on them; nor can\nthe birds, though having a superabundance of food at this one season,\nincrease in number proportionally to the supply of seed, as their\nnumbers are checked during winter: but any one who has tried, knows how\ntroublesome it is to get seed from a few wheat or other such plants in\na garden; I have in this case lost every single seed. This view of the\nnecessity of a large stock of the same species for its preservation,\nexplains, I believe, some singular facts in nature, such as that of very\nrare plants being sometimes extremely abundant in the few spots where\nthey do occur; and that of some social plants being social, that is,\nabounding in individuals, even on the extreme confines of their range.\nFor in such cases, we may believe, that a plant could exist only where\nthe conditions of its life were so favourable that many could exist\ntogether, and thus save each other from utter destruction. I should add\nthat the good effects of frequent intercrossing, and the ill effects of\nclose interbreeding, probably come into play in some of these cases; but\non this intricate subject I will not here enlarge.\n\nMany cases are on record showing how complex and unexpected are the\nchecks and relations between organic beings, which have to struggle\ntogether in the same country. I will give only a single instance, which,\nthough a simple one, has interested me. In Staffordshire, on the estate\nof a relation where I had ample means of investigation, there was a\nlarge and extremely barren heath, which had never been touched by the\nhand of man; but several hundred acres of exactly the same nature had\nbeen enclosed twenty-five years previously and planted with Scotch fir.\nThe change in the native vegetation of the planted part of the heath was\nmost remarkable, more than is generally seen in passing from one quite\ndifferent soil to another: not only the proportional numbers of the\nheath-plants were wholly changed, but twelve species of plants (not\ncounting grasses and carices) flourished in the plantations, which could\nnot be found on the heath. The effect on the insects must have been\nstill greater, for six insectivorous birds were very common in the\nplantations, which were not to be seen on the heath; and the heath was\nfrequented by two or three distinct insectivorous birds. Here we see how\npotent has been the effect of the introduction of a single tree, nothing\nwhatever else having been done, with the exception that the land had\nbeen enclosed, so that cattle could not enter. But how important an\nelement enclosure is, I plainly saw near Farnham, in Surrey. Here\nthere are extensive heaths, with a few clumps of old Scotch firs on\nthe distant hill-tops: within the last ten years large spaces have been\nenclosed, and self-sown firs are now springing up in multitudes, so\nclose together that all cannot live.\n\nWhen I ascertained that these young trees had not been sown or planted,\nI was so much surprised at their numbers that I went to several points\nof view, whence I could examine hundreds of acres of the unenclosed\nheath, and literally I could not see a single Scotch fir, except the old\nplanted clumps. But on looking closely between the stems of the heath,\nI found a multitude of seedlings and little trees, which had been\nperpetually browsed down by the cattle. In one square yard, at a\npoint some hundred yards distant from one of the old clumps, I counted\nthirty-two little trees; and one of them, judging from the rings of\ngrowth, had during twenty-six years tried to raise its head above the\nstems of the heath, and had failed. No wonder that, as soon as the land\nwas enclosed, it became thickly clothed with vigorously growing young\nfirs. Yet the heath was so extremely barren and so extensive that no\none would ever have imagined that cattle would have so closely and\neffectually searched it for food.\n\nHere we see that cattle absolutely determine the existence of the Scotch\nfir; but in several parts of the world insects determine the existence\nof cattle. Perhaps Paraguay offers the most curious instance of this;\nfor here neither cattle nor horses nor dogs have ever run wild, though\nthey swarm southward and northward in a feral state; and Azara and\nRengger have shown that this is caused by the greater number in Paraguay\nof a certain fly, which lays its eggs in the navels of these animals\nwhen first born. The increase of these flies, numerous as they are,\nmust be habitually checked by some means, probably by birds. Hence, if\ncertain insectivorous birds (whose numbers are probably regulated by\nhawks or beasts of prey) were to increase in Paraguay, the flies would\ndecrease--then cattle and horses would become feral, and this would\ncertainly greatly alter (as indeed I have observed in parts of South\nAmerica) the vegetation: this again would largely affect the insects;\nand this, as we just have seen in Staffordshire, the insectivorous\nbirds, and so onwards in ever-increasing circles of complexity. We began\nthis series by insectivorous birds, and we have ended with them. Not\nthat in nature the relations can ever be as simple as this. Battle\nwithin battle must ever be recurring with varying success; and yet in\nthe long-run the forces are so nicely balanced, that the face of nature\nremains uniform for long periods of time, though assuredly the merest\ntrifle would often give the victory to one organic being over another.\nNevertheless so profound is our ignorance, and so high our presumption,\nthat we marvel when we hear of the extinction of an organic being; and\nas we do not see the cause, we invoke cataclysms to desolate the world,\nor invent laws on the duration of the forms of life!\n\nI am tempted to give one more instance showing how plants and animals,\nmost remote in the scale of nature, are bound together by a web of\ncomplex relations. I shall hereafter have occasion to show that the\nexotic Lobelia fulgens, in this part of England, is never visited by\ninsects, and consequently, from its peculiar structure, never can set a\nseed. Many of our orchidaceous plants absolutely require the visits of\nmoths to remove their pollen-masses and thus to fertilise them. I\nhave, also, reason to believe that humble-bees are indispensable to the\nfertilisation of the heartsease (Viola tricolor), for other bees do not\nvisit this flower. From experiments which I have tried, I have found\nthat the visits of bees, if not indispensable, are at least highly\nbeneficial to the fertilisation of our clovers; but humble-bees alone\nvisit the common red clover (Trifolium pratense), as other bees cannot\nreach the nectar. Hence I have very little doubt, that if the whole\ngenus of humble-bees became extinct or very rare in England, the\nheartsease and red clover would become very rare, or wholly disappear.\nThe number of humble-bees in any district depends in a great degree on\nthe number of field-mice, which destroy their combs and nests; and Mr.\nH. Newman, who has long attended to the habits of humble-bees, believes\nthat \"more than two thirds of them are thus destroyed all over England.\"\nNow the number of mice is largely dependent, as every one knows, on the\nnumber of cats; and Mr. Newman says, \"Near villages and small towns I\nhave found the nests of humble-bees more numerous than elsewhere, which\nI attribute to the number of cats that destroy the mice.\" Hence it is\nquite credible that the presence of a feline animal in large numbers in\na district might determine, through the intervention first of mice and\nthen of bees, the frequency of certain flowers in that district!\n\nIn the case of every species, many different checks, acting at different\nperiods of life, and during different seasons or years, probably come\ninto play; some one check or some few being generally the most potent,\nbut all concurring in determining the average number or even\nthe existence of the species. In some cases it can be shown that\nwidely-different checks act on the same species in different districts.\nWhen we look at the plants and bushes clothing an entangled bank, we\nare tempted to attribute their proportional numbers and kinds to what we\ncall chance. But how false a view is this! Every one has heard that when\nan American forest is cut down, a very different vegetation springs\nup; but it has been observed that the trees now growing on the ancient\nIndian mounds, in the Southern United States, display the same beautiful\ndiversity and proportion of kinds as in the surrounding virgin forests.\nWhat a struggle between the several kinds of trees must here have gone\non during long centuries, each annually scattering its seeds by the\nthousand; what war between insect and insect--between insects, snails,\nand other animals with birds and beasts of prey--all striving to\nincrease, and all feeding on each other or on the trees or their seeds\nand seedlings, or on the other plants which first clothed the ground and\nthus checked the growth of the trees! Throw up a handful of feathers,\nand all must fall to the ground according to definite laws; but how\nsimple is this problem compared to the action and reaction of the\ninnumerable plants and animals which have determined, in the course of\ncenturies, the proportional numbers and kinds of trees now growing on\nthe old Indian ruins!\n\nThe dependency of one organic being on another, as of a parasite on its\nprey, lies generally between beings remote in the scale of nature. This\nis often the case with those which may strictly be said to struggle with\neach other for existence, as in the case of locusts and grass-feeding\nquadrupeds. But the struggle almost invariably will be most severe\nbetween the individuals of the same species, for they frequent the same\ndistricts, require the same food, and are exposed to the same dangers.\nIn the case of varieties of the same species, the struggle will\ngenerally be almost equally severe, and we sometimes see the contest\nsoon decided: for instance, if several varieties of wheat be sown\ntogether, and the mixed seed be resown, some of the varieties which best\nsuit the soil or climate, or are naturally the most fertile, will beat\nthe others and so yield more seed, and will consequently in a few years\nquite supplant the other varieties. To keep up a mixed stock of even\nsuch extremely close varieties as the variously coloured sweet-peas,\nthey must be each year harvested separately, and the seed then mixed\nin due proportion, otherwise the weaker kinds will steadily decrease in\nnumbers and disappear. So again with the varieties of sheep: it has\nbeen asserted that certain mountain-varieties will starve out other\nmountain-varieties, so that they cannot be kept together. The same\nresult has followed from keeping together different varieties of the\nmedicinal leech. It may even be doubted whether the varieties of any\none of our domestic plants or animals have so exactly the same strength,\nhabits, and constitution, that the original proportions of a mixed stock\ncould be kept up for half a dozen generations, if they were allowed to\nstruggle together, like beings in a state of nature, and if the seed or\nyoung were not annually sorted.\n\nAs species of the same genus have usually, though by no means\ninvariably, some similarity in habits and constitution, and always in\nstructure, the struggle will generally be more severe between species\nof the same genus, when they come into competition with each other, than\nbetween species of distinct genera. We see this in the recent extension\nover parts of the United States of one species of swallow having\ncaused the decrease of another species. The recent increase of the\nmissel-thrush in parts of Scotland has caused the decrease of the\nsong-thrush. How frequently we hear of one species of rat taking the\nplace of another species under the most different climates! In Russia\nthe small Asiatic cockroach has everywhere driven before it its great\ncongener. One species of charlock will supplant another, and so in\nother cases. We can dimly see why the competition should be most severe\nbetween allied forms, which fill nearly the same place in the economy\nof nature; but probably in no one case could we precisely say why one\nspecies has been victorious over another in the great battle of life.\n\nA corollary of the highest importance may be deduced from the foregoing\nremarks, namely, that the structure of every organic being is related,\nin the most essential yet often hidden manner, to that of all other\norganic beings, with which it comes into competition for food or\nresidence, or from which it has to escape, or on which it preys. This\nis obvious in the structure of the teeth and talons of the tiger; and in\nthat of the legs and claws of the parasite which clings to the hair on\nthe tiger's body. But in the beautifully plumed seed of the dandelion,\nand in the flattened and fringed legs of the water-beetle, the relation\nseems at first confined to the elements of air and water. Yet the\nadvantage of plumed seeds no doubt stands in the closest relation to the\nland being already thickly clothed by other plants; so that the\nseeds may be widely distributed and fall on unoccupied ground. In the\nwater-beetle, the structure of its legs, so well adapted for diving,\nallows it to compete with other aquatic insects, to hunt for its own\nprey, and to escape serving as prey to other animals.\n\nThe store of nutriment laid up within the seeds of many plants seems at\nfirst sight to have no sort of relation to other plants. But from the\nstrong growth of young plants produced from such seeds (as peas and\nbeans), when sown in the midst of long grass, I suspect that the chief\nuse of the nutriment in the seed is to favour the growth of the young\nseedling, whilst struggling with other plants growing vigorously all\naround.\n\nLook at a plant in the midst of its range, why does it not double or\nquadruple its numbers? We know that it can perfectly well withstand a\nlittle more heat or cold, dampness or dryness, for elsewhere it ranges\ninto slightly hotter or colder, damper or drier districts. In this case\nwe can clearly see that if we wished in imagination to give the plant\nthe power of increasing in number, we should have to give it some\nadvantage over its competitors, or over the animals which preyed on it.\nOn the confines of its geographical range, a change of constitution with\nrespect to climate would clearly be an advantage to our plant; but we\nhave reason to believe that only a few plants or animals range so far,\nthat they are destroyed by the rigour of the climate alone. Not until\nwe reach the extreme confines of life, in the arctic regions or on the\nborders of an utter desert, will competition cease. The land may be\nextremely cold or dry, yet there will be competition between some few\nspecies, or between the individuals of the same species, for the warmest\nor dampest spots.\n\nHence, also, we can see that when a plant or animal is placed in a new\ncountry amongst new competitors, though the climate may be exactly\nthe same as in its former home, yet the conditions of its life will\ngenerally be changed in an essential manner. If we wished to increase\nits average numbers in its new home, we should have to modify it in a\ndifferent way to what we should have done in its native country; for\nwe should have to give it some advantage over a different set of\ncompetitors or enemies.\n\nIt is good thus to try in our imagination to give any form some\nadvantage over another. Probably in no single instance should we know\nwhat to do, so as to succeed. It will convince us of our ignorance on\nthe mutual relations of all organic beings; a conviction as necessary,\nas it seems to be difficult to acquire. All that we can do, is to keep\nsteadily in mind that each organic being is striving to increase at a\ngeometrical ratio; that each at some period of its life, during some\nseason of the year, during each generation or at intervals, has to\nstruggle for life, and to suffer great destruction. When we reflect on\nthis struggle, we may console ourselves with the full belief, that the\nwar of nature is not incessant, that no fear is felt, that death is\ngenerally prompt, and that the vigorous, the healthy, and the happy\nsurvive and multiply.\n\n\n\n\n4.\n\nNATURAL SELECTION.\n\nNatural Selection: its power compared with man's selection, its power\non characters of trifling importance, its power at all ages and on\nboth sexes. Sexual Selection. On the generality of intercrosses\nbetween individuals of the same species. Circumstances favourable and\nunfavourable to Natural Selection, namely, intercrossing, isolation,\nnumber of individuals. Slow action. Extinction caused by Natural\nSelection. Divergence of Character, related to the diversity of\ninhabitants of any small area, and to naturalisation. Action of Natural\nSelection, through Divergence of Character and Extinction, on the\ndescendants from a common parent. Explains the Grouping of all organic\nbeings.\n\nHow will the struggle for existence, discussed too briefly in the last\nchapter, act in regard to variation? Can the principle of selection,\nwhich we have seen is so potent in the hands of man, apply in nature? I\nthink we shall see that it can act most effectually. Let it be borne\nin mind in what an endless number of strange peculiarities our domestic\nproductions, and, in a lesser degree, those under nature, vary; and how\nstrong the hereditary tendency is. Under domestication, it may be truly\nsaid that the whole organisation becomes in some degree plastic. Let it\nbe borne in mind how infinitely complex and close-fitting are the mutual\nrelations of all organic beings to each other and to their physical\nconditions of life. Can it, then, be thought improbable, seeing\nthat variations useful to man have undoubtedly occurred, that other\nvariations useful in some way to each being in the great and complex\nbattle of life, should sometimes occur in the course of thousands of\ngenerations? If such do occur, can we doubt (remembering that many more\nindividuals are born than can possibly survive) that individuals having\nany advantage, however slight, over others, would have the best chance\nof surviving and of procreating their kind? On the other hand, we may\nfeel sure that any variation in the least degree injurious would be\nrigidly destroyed. This preservation of favourable variations and the\nrejection of injurious variations, I call Natural Selection. Variations\nneither useful nor injurious would not be affected by natural selection,\nand would be left a fluctuating element, as perhaps we see in the\nspecies called polymorphic.\n\nWe shall best understand the probable course of natural selection\nby taking the case of a country undergoing some physical change, for\ninstance, of climate. The proportional numbers of its inhabitants would\nalmost immediately undergo a change, and some species might become\nextinct. We may conclude, from what we have seen of the intimate and\ncomplex manner in which the inhabitants of each country are bound\ntogether, that any change in the numerical proportions of some of the\ninhabitants, independently of the change of climate itself, would most\nseriously affect many of the others. If the country were open on its\nborders, new forms would certainly immigrate, and this also would\nseriously disturb the relations of some of the former inhabitants. Let\nit be remembered how powerful the influence of a single introduced tree\nor mammal has been shown to be. But in the case of an island, or of a\ncountry partly surrounded by barriers, into which new and better adapted\nforms could not freely enter, we should then have places in the economy\nof nature which would assuredly be better filled up, if some of the\noriginal inhabitants were in some manner modified; for, had the area\nbeen open to immigration, these same places would have been seized on by\nintruders. In such case, every slight modification, which in the course\nof ages chanced to arise, and which in any way favoured the individuals\nof any of the species, by better adapting them to their altered\nconditions, would tend to be preserved; and natural selection would thus\nhave free scope for the work of improvement.\n\nWe have reason to believe, as stated in the first chapter, that a change\nin the conditions of life, by specially acting on the reproductive\nsystem, causes or increases variability; and in the foregoing case the\nconditions of life are supposed to have undergone a change, and this\nwould manifestly be favourable to natural selection, by giving a\nbetter chance of profitable variations occurring; and unless profitable\nvariations do occur, natural selection can do nothing. Not that, as\nI believe, any extreme amount of variability is necessary; as man can\ncertainly produce great results by adding up in any given direction\nmere individual differences, so could Nature, but far more easily, from\nhaving incomparably longer time at her disposal. Nor do I believe that\nany great physical change, as of climate, or any unusual degree of\nisolation to check immigration, is actually necessary to produce new\nand unoccupied places for natural selection to fill up by modifying and\nimproving some of the varying inhabitants. For as all the inhabitants\nof each country are struggling together with nicely balanced forces,\nextremely slight modifications in the structure or habits of one\ninhabitant would often give it an advantage over others; and still\nfurther modifications of the same kind would often still further\nincrease the advantage. No country can be named in which all the native\ninhabitants are now so perfectly adapted to each other and to the\nphysical conditions under which they live, that none of them could\nanyhow be improved; for in all countries, the natives have been so far\nconquered by naturalised productions, that they have allowed foreigners\nto take firm possession of the land. And as foreigners have thus\neverywhere beaten some of the natives, we may safely conclude that the\nnatives might have been modified with advantage, so as to have better\nresisted such intruders.\n\nAs man can produce and certainly has produced a great result by his\nmethodical and unconscious means of selection, what may not nature\neffect? Man can act only on external and visible characters: nature\ncares nothing for appearances, except in so far as they may be useful\nto any being. She can act on every internal organ, on every shade of\nconstitutional difference, on the whole machinery of life. Man selects\nonly for his own good; Nature only for that of the being which she\ntends. Every selected character is fully exercised by her; and the being\nis placed under well-suited conditions of life. Man keeps the natives\nof many climates in the same country; he seldom exercises each selected\ncharacter in some peculiar and fitting manner; he feeds a long and a\nshort beaked pigeon on the same food; he does not exercise a long-backed\nor long-legged quadruped in any peculiar manner; he exposes sheep with\nlong and short wool to the same climate. He does not allow the most\nvigorous males to struggle for the females. He does not rigidly destroy\nall inferior animals, but protects during each varying season, as far as\nlies in his power, all his productions. He often begins his selection\nby some half-monstrous form; or at least by some modification prominent\nenough to catch his eye, or to be plainly useful to him. Under nature,\nthe slightest difference of structure or constitution may well turn the\nnicely-balanced scale in the struggle for life, and so be preserved.\nHow fleeting are the wishes and efforts of man! how short his time!\nand consequently how poor will his products be, compared with those\naccumulated by nature during whole geological periods. Can we wonder,\nthen, that nature's productions should be far \"truer\" in character than\nman's productions; that they should be infinitely better adapted to the\nmost complex conditions of life, and should plainly bear the stamp of\nfar higher workmanship?\n\nIt may be said that natural selection is daily and hourly scrutinising,\nthroughout the world, every variation, even the slightest; rejecting\nthat which is bad, preserving and adding up all that is good; silently\nand insensibly working, whenever and wherever opportunity offers, at\nthe improvement of each organic being in relation to its organic and\ninorganic conditions of life. We see nothing of these slow changes in\nprogress, until the hand of time has marked the long lapse of ages, and\nthen so imperfect is our view into long past geological ages, that\nwe only see that the forms of life are now different from what they\nformerly were.\n\nAlthough natural selection can act only through and for the good of each\nbeing, yet characters and structures, which we are apt to consider as of\nvery trifling importance, may thus be acted on. When we see leaf-eating\ninsects green, and bark-feeders mottled-grey; the alpine ptarmigan white\nin winter, the red-grouse the colour of heather, and the black-grouse\nthat of peaty earth, we must believe that these tints are of service to\nthese birds and insects in preserving them from danger. Grouse, if not\ndestroyed at some period of their lives, would increase in countless\nnumbers; they are known to suffer largely from birds of prey; and hawks\nare guided by eyesight to their prey,--so much so, that on parts of the\nContinent persons are warned not to keep white pigeons, as being the\nmost liable to destruction. Hence I can see no reason to doubt that\nnatural selection might be most effective in giving the proper colour\nto each kind of grouse, and in keeping that colour, when once acquired,\ntrue and constant. Nor ought we to think that the occasional destruction\nof an animal of any particular colour would produce little effect: we\nshould remember how essential it is in a flock of white sheep to destroy\nevery lamb with the faintest trace of black. In plants the down on\nthe fruit and the colour of the flesh are considered by botanists\nas characters of the most trifling importance: yet we hear from\nan excellent horticulturist, Downing, that in the United States\nsmooth-skinned fruits suffer far more from a beetle, a curculio, than\nthose with down; that purple plums suffer far more from a certain\ndisease than yellow plums; whereas another disease attacks\nyellow-fleshed peaches far more than those with other coloured flesh.\nIf, with all the aids of art, these slight differences make a great\ndifference in cultivating the several varieties, assuredly, in a state\nof nature, where the trees would have to struggle with other trees and\nwith a host of enemies, such differences would effectually settle which\nvariety, whether a smooth or downy, a yellow or purple fleshed fruit,\nshould succeed.\n\nIn looking at many small points of difference between species, which, as\nfar as our ignorance permits us to judge, seem to be quite unimportant,\nwe must not forget that climate, food, etc., probably produce some\nslight and direct effect. It is, however, far more necessary to bear in\nmind that there are many unknown laws of correlation of growth, which,\nwhen one part of the organisation is modified through variation, and the\nmodifications are accumulated by natural selection for the good of the\nbeing, will cause other modifications, often of the most unexpected\nnature.\n\nAs we see that those variations which under domestication appear at any\nparticular period of life, tend to reappear in the offspring at the\nsame period;--for instance, in the seeds of the many varieties of our\nculinary and agricultural plants; in the caterpillar and cocoon stages\nof the varieties of the silkworm; in the eggs of poultry, and in the\ncolour of the down of their chickens; in the horns of our sheep and\ncattle when nearly adult;--so in a state of nature, natural selection\nwill be enabled to act on and modify organic beings at any age, by\nthe accumulation of profitable variations at that age, and by their\ninheritance at a corresponding age. If it profit a plant to have its\nseeds more and more widely disseminated by the wind, I can see no\ngreater difficulty in this being effected through natural selection,\nthan in the cotton-planter increasing and improving by selection the\ndown in the pods on his cotton-trees. Natural selection may modify\nand adapt the larva of an insect to a score of contingencies,\nwholly different from those which concern the mature insect. These\nmodifications will no doubt affect, through the laws of correlation, the\nstructure of the adult; and probably in the case of those insects which\nlive only for a few hours, and which never feed, a large part of their\nstructure is merely the correlated result of successive changes in the\nstructure of their larvae. So, conversely, modifications in the adult\nwill probably often affect the structure of the larva; but in all cases\nnatural selection will ensure that modifications consequent on other\nmodifications at a different period of life, shall not be in the least\ndegree injurious: for if they became so, they would cause the extinction\nof the species.\n\nNatural selection will modify the structure of the young in relation\nto the parent, and of the parent in relation to the young. In social\nanimals it will adapt the structure of each individual for the benefit\nof the community; if each in consequence profits by the selected change.\nWhat natural selection cannot do, is to modify the structure of one\nspecies, without giving it any advantage, for the good of another\nspecies; and though statements to this effect may be found in works of\nnatural history, I cannot find one case which will bear investigation.\nA structure used only once in an animal's whole life, if of high\nimportance to it, might be modified to any extent by natural selection;\nfor instance, the great jaws possessed by certain insects, and used\nexclusively for opening the cocoon--or the hard tip to the beak of\nnestling birds, used for breaking the egg. It has been asserted, that\nof the best short-beaked tumbler-pigeons more perish in the egg than are\nable to get out of it; so that fanciers assist in the act of hatching.\nNow, if nature had to make the beak of a full-grown pigeon very short\nfor the bird's own advantage, the process of modification would be very\nslow, and there would be simultaneously the most rigorous selection of\nthe young birds within the egg, which had the most powerful and hardest\nbeaks, for all with weak beaks would inevitably perish: or, more\ndelicate and more easily broken shells might be selected, the thickness\nof the shell being known to vary like every other structure.\n\nSEXUAL SELECTION.\n\nInasmuch as peculiarities often appear under domestication in one sex\nand become hereditarily attached to that sex, the same fact probably\noccurs under nature, and if so, natural selection will be able to modify\none sex in its functional relations to the other sex, or in relation to\nwholly different habits of life in the two sexes, as is sometimes the\ncase with insects. And this leads me to say a few words on what I call\nSexual Selection. This depends, not on a struggle for existence, but on\na struggle between the males for possession of the females; the result\nis not death to the unsuccessful competitor, but few or no offspring.\nSexual selection is, therefore, less rigorous than natural selection.\nGenerally, the most vigorous males, those which are best fitted for\ntheir places in nature, will leave most progeny. But in many cases,\nvictory will depend not on general vigour, but on having special\nweapons, confined to the male sex. A hornless stag or spurless cock\nwould have a poor chance of leaving offspring. Sexual selection by\nalways allowing the victor to breed might surely give indomitable\ncourage, length to the spur, and strength to the wing to strike in the\nspurred leg, as well as the brutal cock-fighter, who knows well that he\ncan improve his breed by careful selection of the best cocks. How low\nin the scale of nature this law of battle descends, I know not; male\nalligators have been described as fighting, bellowing, and whirling\nround, like Indians in a war-dance, for the possession of the females;\nmale salmons have been seen fighting all day long; male stag-beetles\noften bear wounds from the huge mandibles of other males. The war is,\nperhaps, severest between the males of polygamous animals, and these\nseem oftenest provided with special weapons. The males of carnivorous\nanimals are already well armed; though to them and to others, special\nmeans of defence may be given through means of sexual selection, as the\nmane to the lion, the shoulder-pad to the boar, and the hooked jaw to\nthe male salmon; for the shield may be as important for victory, as the\nsword or spear.\n\nAmongst birds, the contest is often of a more peaceful character.\nAll those who have attended to the subject, believe that there is the\nseverest rivalry between the males of many species to attract by singing\nthe females. The rock-thrush of Guiana, birds of Paradise, and some\nothers, congregate; and successive males display their gorgeous plumage\nand perform strange antics before the females, which standing by as\nspectators, at last choose the most attractive partner. Those who have\nclosely attended to birds in confinement well know that they often take\nindividual preferences and dislikes: thus Sir R. Heron has described how\none pied peacock was eminently attractive to all his hen birds. It may\nappear childish to attribute any effect to such apparently weak means: I\ncannot here enter on the details necessary to support this view; but if\nman can in a short time give elegant carriage and beauty to his bantams,\naccording to his standard of beauty, I can see no good reason to doubt\nthat female birds, by selecting, during thousands of generations,\nthe most melodious or beautiful males, according to their standard of\nbeauty, might produce a marked effect. I strongly suspect that some\nwell-known laws with respect to the plumage of male and female birds, in\ncomparison with the plumage of the young, can be explained on the view\nof plumage having been chiefly modified by sexual selection, acting when\nthe birds have come to the breeding age or during the breeding season;\nthe modifications thus produced being inherited at corresponding ages or\nseasons, either by the males alone, or by the males and females; but I\nhave not space here to enter on this subject.\n\nThus it is, as I believe, that when the males and females of any animal\nhave the same general habits of life, but differ in structure, colour,\nor ornament, such differences have been mainly caused by sexual\nselection; that is, individual males have had, in successive\ngenerations, some slight advantage over other males, in their weapons,\nmeans of defence, or charms; and have transmitted these advantages to\ntheir male offspring. Yet, I would not wish to attribute all such\nsexual differences to this agency: for we see peculiarities arising and\nbecoming attached to the male sex in our domestic animals (as the wattle\nin male carriers, horn-like protuberances in the cocks of certain fowls,\netc.), which we cannot believe to be either useful to the males in\nbattle, or attractive to the females. We see analogous cases under\nnature, for instance, the tuft of hair on the breast of the turkey-cock,\nwhich can hardly be either useful or ornamental to this bird;--indeed,\nhad the tuft appeared under domestication, it would have been called a\nmonstrosity.\n\nILLUSTRATIONS OF THE ACTION OF NATURAL SELECTION.\n\nIn order to make it clear how, as I believe, natural selection acts, I\nmust beg permission to give one or two imaginary illustrations. Let us\ntake the case of a wolf, which preys on various animals, securing some\nby craft, some by strength, and some by fleetness; and let us suppose\nthat the fleetest prey, a deer for instance, had from any change in\nthe country increased in numbers, or that other prey had decreased in\nnumbers, during that season of the year when the wolf is hardest pressed\nfor food. I can under such circumstances see no reason to doubt that the\nswiftest and slimmest wolves would have the best chance of surviving,\nand so be preserved or selected,--provided always that they retained\nstrength to master their prey at this or at some other period of the\nyear, when they might be compelled to prey on other animals. I can see\nno more reason to doubt this, than that man can improve the fleetness\nof his greyhounds by careful and methodical selection, or by that\nunconscious selection which results from each man trying to keep the\nbest dogs without any thought of modifying the breed.\n\nEven without any change in the proportional numbers of the animals on\nwhich our wolf preyed, a cub might be born with an innate tendency to\npursue certain kinds of prey. Nor can this be thought very improbable;\nfor we often observe great differences in the natural tendencies of our\ndomestic animals; one cat, for instance, taking to catch rats, another\nmice; one cat, according to Mr. St. John, bringing home winged game,\nanother hares or rabbits, and another hunting on marshy ground and\nalmost nightly catching woodcocks or snipes. The tendency to catch rats\nrather than mice is known to be inherited. Now, if any slight innate\nchange of habit or of structure benefited an individual wolf, it would\nhave the best chance of surviving and of leaving offspring. Some of its\nyoung would probably inherit the same habits or structure, and by the\nrepetition of this process, a new variety might be formed which would\neither supplant or coexist with the parent-form of wolf. Or, again,\nthe wolves inhabiting a mountainous district, and those frequenting the\nlowlands, would naturally be forced to hunt different prey; and from the\ncontinued preservation of the individuals best fitted for the two sites,\ntwo varieties might slowly be formed. These varieties would cross and\nblend where they met; but to this subject of intercrossing we shall soon\nhave to return. I may add, that, according to Mr. Pierce, there are two\nvarieties of the wolf inhabiting the Catskill Mountains in the United\nStates, one with a light greyhound-like form, which pursues deer, and\nthe other more bulky, with shorter legs, which more frequently attacks\nthe shepherd's flocks.\n\nLet us now take a more complex case. Certain plants excrete a sweet\njuice, apparently for the sake of eliminating something injurious from\ntheir sap: this is effected by glands at the base of the stipules in\nsome Leguminosae, and at the back of the leaf of the common laurel. This\njuice, though small in quantity, is greedily sought by insects. Let us\nnow suppose a little sweet juice or nectar to be excreted by the inner\nbases of the petals of a flower. In this case insects in seeking the\nnectar would get dusted with pollen, and would certainly often transport\nthe pollen from one flower to the stigma of another flower. The flowers\nof two distinct individuals of the same species would thus get crossed;\nand the act of crossing, we have good reason to believe (as will\nhereafter be more fully alluded to), would produce very vigorous\nseedlings, which consequently would have the best chance of flourishing\nand surviving. Some of these seedlings would probably inherit the\nnectar-excreting power. Those individual flowers which had the largest\nglands or nectaries, and which excreted most nectar, would be oftenest\nvisited by insects, and would be oftenest crossed; and so in the\nlong-run would gain the upper hand. Those flowers, also, which had their\nstamens and pistils placed, in relation to the size and habits of the\nparticular insects which visited them, so as to favour in any degree\nthe transportal of their pollen from flower to flower, would likewise be\nfavoured or selected. We might have taken the case of insects visiting\nflowers for the sake of collecting pollen instead of nectar; and as\npollen is formed for the sole object of fertilisation, its destruction\nappears a simple loss to the plant; yet if a little pollen were carried,\nat first occasionally and then habitually, by the pollen-devouring\ninsects from flower to flower, and a cross thus effected, although\nnine-tenths of the pollen were destroyed, it might still be a great gain\nto the plant; and those individuals which produced more and more pollen,\nand had larger and larger anthers, would be selected.\n\nWhen our plant, by this process of the continued preservation or natural\nselection of more and more attractive flowers, had been rendered highly\nattractive to insects, they would, unintentionally on their part,\nregularly carry pollen from flower to flower; and that they can most\neffectually do this, I could easily show by many striking instances.\nI will give only one--not as a very striking case, but as likewise\nillustrating one step in the separation of the sexes of plants,\npresently to be alluded to. Some holly-trees bear only male flowers,\nwhich have four stamens producing rather a small quantity of pollen, and\na rudimentary pistil; other holly-trees bear only female flowers; these\nhave a full-sized pistil, and four stamens with shrivelled anthers, in\nwhich not a grain of pollen can be detected. Having found a female\ntree exactly sixty yards from a male tree, I put the stigmas of twenty\nflowers, taken from different branches, under the microscope, and\non all, without exception, there were pollen-grains, and on some a\nprofusion of pollen. As the wind had set for several days from the\nfemale to the male tree, the pollen could not thus have been carried.\nThe weather had been cold and boisterous, and therefore not favourable\nto bees, nevertheless every female flower which I examined had been\neffectually fertilised by the bees, accidentally dusted with pollen,\nhaving flown from tree to tree in search of nectar. But to return to\nour imaginary case: as soon as the plant had been rendered so highly\nattractive to insects that pollen was regularly carried from flower\nto flower, another process might commence. No naturalist doubts the\nadvantage of what has been called the \"physiological division of\nlabour;\" hence we may believe that it would be advantageous to a plant\nto produce stamens alone in one flower or on one whole plant, and\npistils alone in another flower or on another plant. In plants under\nculture and placed under new conditions of life, sometimes the male\norgans and sometimes the female organs become more or less impotent;\nnow if we suppose this to occur in ever so slight a degree under nature,\nthen as pollen is already carried regularly from flower to flower,\nand as a more complete separation of the sexes of our plant would be\nadvantageous on the principle of the division of labour, individuals\nwith this tendency more and more increased, would be continually\nfavoured or selected, until at last a complete separation of the sexes\nwould be effected.\n\nLet us now turn to the nectar-feeding insects in our imaginary case: we\nmay suppose the plant of which we have been slowly increasing the nectar\nby continued selection, to be a common plant; and that certain insects\ndepended in main part on its nectar for food. I could give many facts,\nshowing how anxious bees are to save time; for instance, their habit of\ncutting holes and sucking the nectar at the bases of certain flowers,\nwhich they can, with a very little more trouble, enter by the mouth.\nBearing such facts in mind, I can see no reason to doubt that an\naccidental deviation in the size and form of the body, or in the\ncurvature and length of the proboscis, etc., far too slight to be\nappreciated by us, might profit a bee or other insect, so that an\nindividual so characterised would be able to obtain its food more\nquickly, and so have a better chance of living and leaving descendants.\nIts descendants would probably inherit a tendency to a similar slight\ndeviation of structure. The tubes of the corollas of the common red and\nincarnate clovers (Trifolium pratense and incarnatum) do not on a hasty\nglance appear to differ in length; yet the hive-bee can easily suck\nthe nectar out of the incarnate clover, but not out of the common red\nclover, which is visited by humble-bees alone; so that whole fields of\nthe red clover offer in vain an abundant supply of precious nectar to\nthe hive-bee. Thus it might be a great advantage to the hive-bee to have\na slightly longer or differently constructed proboscis. On the other\nhand, I have found by experiment that the fertility of clover greatly\ndepends on bees visiting and moving parts of the corolla, so as to push\nthe pollen on to the stigmatic surface. Hence, again, if humble-bees\nwere to become rare in any country, it might be a great advantage to the\nred clover to have a shorter or more deeply divided tube to its corolla,\nso that the hive-bee could visit its flowers. Thus I can understand how\na flower and a bee might slowly become, either simultaneously or one\nafter the other, modified and adapted in the most perfect manner to each\nother, by the continued preservation of individuals presenting mutual\nand slightly favourable deviations of structure.\n\nI am well aware that this doctrine of natural selection, exemplified in\nthe above imaginary instances, is open to the same objections which were\nat first urged against Sir Charles Lyell's noble views on \"the modern\nchanges of the earth, as illustrative of geology;\" but we now very\nseldom hear the action, for instance, of the coast-waves, called a\ntrifling and insignificant cause, when applied to the excavation of\ngigantic valleys or to the formation of the longest lines of inland\ncliffs. Natural selection can act only by the preservation and\naccumulation of infinitesimally small inherited modifications, each\nprofitable to the preserved being; and as modern geology has almost\nbanished such views as the excavation of a great valley by a single\ndiluvial wave, so will natural selection, if it be a true principle,\nbanish the belief of the continued creation of new organic beings, or of\nany great and sudden modification in their structure.\n\nON THE INTERCROSSING OF INDIVIDUALS.\n\nI must here introduce a short digression. In the case of animals\nand plants with separated sexes, it is of course obvious that two\nindividuals must always unite for each birth; but in the case of\nhermaphrodites this is far from obvious. Nevertheless I am strongly\ninclined to believe that with all hermaphrodites two individuals, either\noccasionally or habitually, concur for the reproduction of their kind.\nThis view, I may add, was first suggested by Andrew Knight. We shall\npresently see its importance; but I must here treat the subject with\nextreme brevity, though I have the materials prepared for an ample\ndiscussion. All vertebrate animals, all insects, and some other large\ngroups of animals, pair for each birth. Modern research has much\ndiminished the number of supposed hermaphrodites, and of real\nhermaphrodites a large number pair; that is, two individuals regularly\nunite for reproduction, which is all that concerns us. But still there\nare many hermaphrodite animals which certainly do not habitually pair,\nand a vast majority of plants are hermaphrodites. What reason, it may be\nasked, is there for supposing in these cases that two individuals ever\nconcur in reproduction? As it is impossible here to enter on details, I\nmust trust to some general considerations alone.\n\nIn the first place, I have collected so large a body of facts, showing,\nin accordance with the almost universal belief of breeders, that with\nanimals and plants a cross between different varieties, or between\nindividuals of the same variety but of another strain, gives vigour\nand fertility to the offspring; and on the other hand, that CLOSE\ninterbreeding diminishes vigour and fertility; that these facts alone\nincline me to believe that it is a general law of nature (utterly\nignorant though we be of the meaning of the law) that no organic being\nself-fertilises itself for an eternity of generations; but that a\ncross with another individual is occasionally--perhaps at very long\nintervals--indispensable.\n\nOn the belief that this is a law of nature, we can, I think, understand\nseveral large classes of facts, such as the following, which on any\nother view are inexplicable. Every hybridizer knows how unfavourable\nexposure to wet is to the fertilisation of a flower, yet what a\nmultitude of flowers have their anthers and stigmas fully exposed to\nthe weather! but if an occasional cross be indispensable, the fullest\nfreedom for the entrance of pollen from another individual will explain\nthis state of exposure, more especially as the plant's own anthers and\npistil generally stand so close together that self-fertilisation seems\nalmost inevitable. Many flowers, on the other hand, have their organs\nof fructification closely enclosed, as in the great papilionaceous or\npea-family; but in several, perhaps in all, such flowers, there is a\nvery curious adaptation between the structure of the flower and the\nmanner in which bees suck the nectar; for, in doing this, they either\npush the flower's own pollen on the stigma, or bring pollen from another\nflower. So necessary are the visits of bees to papilionaceous flowers,\nthat I have found, by experiments published elsewhere, that their\nfertility is greatly diminished if these visits be prevented. Now, it\nis scarcely possible that bees should fly from flower to flower, and not\ncarry pollen from one to the other, to the great good, as I believe,\nof the plant. Bees will act like a camel-hair pencil, and it is quite\nsufficient just to touch the anthers of one flower and then the stigma\nof another with the same brush to ensure fertilisation; but it must not\nbe supposed that bees would thus produce a multitude of hybrids between\ndistinct species; for if you bring on the same brush a plant's own\npollen and pollen from another species, the former will have such a\nprepotent effect, that it will invariably and completely destroy, as has\nbeen shown by Gartner, any influence from the foreign pollen.\n\nWhen the stamens of a flower suddenly spring towards the pistil, or\nslowly move one after the other towards it, the contrivance seems\nadapted solely to ensure self-fertilisation; and no doubt it is useful\nfor this end: but, the agency of insects is often required to cause the\nstamens to spring forward, as Kolreuter has shown to be the case with\nthe barberry; and curiously in this very genus, which seems to have a\nspecial contrivance for self-fertilisation, it is well known that if\nvery closely-allied forms or varieties are planted near each other, it\nis hardly possible to raise pure seedlings, so largely do they\nnaturally cross. In many other cases, far from there being any aids for\nself-fertilisation, there are special contrivances, as I could show\nfrom the writings of C. C. Sprengel and from my own observations, which\neffectually prevent the stigma receiving pollen from its own flower: for\ninstance, in Lobelia fulgens, there is a really beautiful and\nelaborate contrivance by which every one of the infinitely numerous\npollen-granules are swept out of the conjoined anthers of each flower,\nbefore the stigma of that individual flower is ready to receive them;\nand as this flower is never visited, at least in my garden, by insects,\nit never sets a seed, though by placing pollen from one flower on the\nstigma of another, I raised plenty of seedlings; and whilst another\nspecies of Lobelia growing close by, which is visited by bees, seeds\nfreely. In very many other cases, though there be no special mechanical\ncontrivance to prevent the stigma of a flower receiving its own pollen,\nyet, as C. C. Sprengel has shown, and as I can confirm, either the\nanthers burst before the stigma is ready for fertilisation, or the\nstigma is ready before the pollen of that flower is ready, so that these\nplants have in fact separated sexes, and must habitually be crossed.\nHow strange are these facts! How strange that the pollen and stigmatic\nsurface of the same flower, though placed so close together, as if\nfor the very purpose of self-fertilisation, should in so many cases be\nmutually useless to each other! How simply are these facts explained\non the view of an occasional cross with a distinct individual being\nadvantageous or indispensable!\n\nIf several varieties of the cabbage, radish, onion, and of some other\nplants, be allowed to seed near each other, a large majority, as I\nhave found, of the seedlings thus raised will turn out mongrels: for\ninstance, I raised 233 seedling cabbages from some plants of different\nvarieties growing near each other, and of these only 78 were true to\ntheir kind, and some even of these were not perfectly true. Yet the\npistil of each cabbage-flower is surrounded not only by its own six\nstamens, but by those of the many other flowers on the same plant. How,\nthen, comes it that such a vast number of the seedlings are mongrelized?\nI suspect that it must arise from the pollen of a distinct VARIETY\nhaving a prepotent effect over a flower's own pollen; and that this is\npart of the general law of good being derived from the intercrossing\nof distinct individuals of the same species. When distinct SPECIES are\ncrossed the case is directly the reverse, for a plant's own pollen\nis always prepotent over foreign pollen; but to this subject we shall\nreturn in a future chapter.\n\nIn the case of a gigantic tree covered with innumerable flowers, it may\nbe objected that pollen could seldom be carried from tree to tree, and\nat most only from flower to flower on the same tree, and that flowers\non the same tree can be considered as distinct individuals only in a\nlimited sense. I believe this objection to be valid, but that nature has\nlargely provided against it by giving to trees a strong tendency to bear\nflowers with separated sexes. When the sexes are separated, although\nthe male and female flowers may be produced on the same tree, we can see\nthat pollen must be regularly carried from flower to flower; and this\nwill give a better chance of pollen being occasionally carried from tree\nto tree. That trees belonging to all Orders have their sexes more often\nseparated than other plants, I find to be the case in this country; and\nat my request Dr. Hooker tabulated the trees of New Zealand, and Dr. Asa\nGray those of the United States, and the result was as I anticipated. On\nthe other hand, Dr. Hooker has recently informed me that he finds that\nthe rule does not hold in Australia; and I have made these few remarks\non the sexes of trees simply to call attention to the subject.\n\nTurning for a very brief space to animals: on the land there are some\nhermaphrodites, as land-mollusca and earth-worms; but these all pair.\nAs yet I have not found a single case of a terrestrial animal which\nfertilises itself. We can understand this remarkable fact, which\noffers so strong a contrast with terrestrial plants, on the view of an\noccasional cross being indispensable, by considering the medium in which\nterrestrial animals live, and the nature of the fertilising element; for\nwe know of no means, analogous to the action of insects and of the wind\nin the case of plants, by which an occasional cross could be effected\nwith terrestrial animals without the concurrence of two individuals.\nOf aquatic animals, there are many self-fertilising hermaphrodites;\nbut here currents in the water offer an obvious means for an occasional\ncross. And, as in the case of flowers, I have as yet failed, after\nconsultation with one of the highest authorities, namely, Professor\nHuxley, to discover a single case of an hermaphrodite animal with the\norgans of reproduction so perfectly enclosed within the body, that\naccess from without and the occasional influence of a distinct\nindividual can be shown to be physically impossible. Cirripedes long\nappeared to me to present a case of very great difficulty under this\npoint of view; but I have been enabled, by a fortunate chance, elsewhere\nto prove that two individuals, though both are self-fertilising\nhermaphrodites, do sometimes cross.\n\nIt must have struck most naturalists as a strange anomaly that, in the\ncase of both animals and plants, species of the same family and even of\nthe same genus, though agreeing closely with each other in almost their\nwhole organisation, yet are not rarely, some of them hermaphrodites,\nand some of them unisexual. But if, in fact, all hermaphrodites do\noccasionally intercross with other individuals, the difference between\nhermaphrodites and unisexual species, as far as function is concerned,\nbecomes very small.\n\nFrom these several considerations and from the many special facts which\nI have collected, but which I am not here able to give, I am strongly\ninclined to suspect that, both in the vegetable and animal kingdoms, an\noccasional intercross with a distinct individual is a law of nature. I\nam well aware that there are, on this view, many cases of difficulty,\nsome of which I am trying to investigate. Finally then, we may conclude\nthat in many organic beings, a cross between two individuals is an\nobvious necessity for each birth; in many others it occurs perhaps only\nat long intervals; but in none, as I suspect, can self-fertilisation go\non for perpetuity.\n\nCIRCUMSTANCES FAVOURABLE TO NATURAL SELECTION.\n\nThis is an extremely intricate subject. A large amount of inheritable\nand diversified variability is favourable, but I believe mere individual\ndifferences suffice for the work. A large number of individuals, by\ngiving a better chance for the appearance within any given period\nof profitable variations, will compensate for a lesser amount of\nvariability in each individual, and is, I believe, an extremely\nimportant element of success. Though nature grants vast periods of time\nfor the work of natural selection, she does not grant an indefinite\nperiod; for as all organic beings are striving, it may be said, to seize\non each place in the economy of nature, if any one species does\nnot become modified and improved in a corresponding degree with its\ncompetitors, it will soon be exterminated.\n\nIn man's methodical selection, a breeder selects for some definite\nobject, and free intercrossing will wholly stop his work. But when many\nmen, without intending to alter the breed, have a nearly common standard\nof perfection, and all try to get and breed from the best animals,\nmuch improvement and modification surely but slowly follow from this\nunconscious process of selection, notwithstanding a large amount of\ncrossing with inferior animals. Thus it will be in nature; for within a\nconfined area, with some place in its polity not so perfectly occupied\nas might be, natural selection will always tend to preserve all the\nindividuals varying in the right direction, though in different degrees,\nso as better to fill up the unoccupied place. But if the area be large,\nits several districts will almost certainly present different conditions\nof life; and then if natural selection be modifying and improving a\nspecies in the several districts, there will be intercrossing with the\nother individuals of the same species on the confines of each. And in\nthis case the effects of intercrossing can hardly be counterbalanced by\nnatural selection always tending to modify all the individuals in each\ndistrict in exactly the same manner to the conditions of each; for in a\ncontinuous area, the conditions will generally graduate away insensibly\nfrom one district to another. The intercrossing will most affect those\nanimals which unite for each birth, which wander much, and which do\nnot breed at a very quick rate. Hence in animals of this nature, for\ninstance in birds, varieties will generally be confined to separated\ncountries; and this I believe to be the case. In hermaphrodite organisms\nwhich cross only occasionally, and likewise in animals which unite for\neach birth, but which wander little and which can increase at a very\nrapid rate, a new and improved variety might be quickly formed on any\none spot, and might there maintain itself in a body, so that whatever\nintercrossing took place would be chiefly between the individuals of\nthe same new variety. A local variety when once thus formed might\nsubsequently slowly spread to other districts. On the above principle,\nnurserymen always prefer getting seed from a large body of plants of\nthe same variety, as the chance of intercrossing with other varieties is\nthus lessened.\n\nEven in the case of slow-breeding animals, which unite for each birth,\nwe must not overrate the effects of intercrosses in retarding natural\nselection; for I can bring a considerable catalogue of facts, showing\nthat within the same area, varieties of the same animal can long remain\ndistinct, from haunting different stations, from breeding at slightly\ndifferent seasons, or from varieties of the same kind preferring to pair\ntogether.\n\nIntercrossing plays a very important part in nature in keeping the\nindividuals of the same species, or of the same variety, true and\nuniform in character. It will obviously thus act far more efficiently\nwith those animals which unite for each birth; but I have already\nattempted to show that we have reason to believe that occasional\nintercrosses take place with all animals and with all plants. Even if\nthese take place only at long intervals, I am convinced that the\nyoung thus produced will gain so much in vigour and fertility over the\noffspring from long-continued self-fertilisation, that they will have a\nbetter chance of surviving and propagating their kind; and thus, in the\nlong run, the influence of intercrosses, even at rare intervals, will be\ngreat. If there exist organic beings which never intercross, uniformity\nof character can be retained amongst them, as long as their conditions\nof life remain the same, only through the principle of inheritance, and\nthrough natural selection destroying any which depart from the\nproper type; but if their conditions of life change and they undergo\nmodification, uniformity of character can be given to their modified\noffspring, solely by natural selection preserving the same favourable\nvariations.\n\nIsolation, also, is an important element in the process of natural\nselection. In a confined or isolated area, if not very large, the\norganic and inorganic conditions of life will generally be in a great\ndegree uniform; so that natural selection will tend to modify all the\nindividuals of a varying species throughout the area in the same\nmanner in relation to the same conditions. Intercrosses, also, with the\nindividuals of the same species, which otherwise would have inhabited\nthe surrounding and differently circumstanced districts, will be\nprevented. But isolation probably acts more efficiently in checking the\nimmigration of better adapted organisms, after any physical change, such\nas of climate or elevation of the land, etc.; and thus new places in the\nnatural economy of the country are left open for the old inhabitants\nto struggle for, and become adapted to, through modifications in their\nstructure and constitution. Lastly, isolation, by checking immigration\nand consequently competition, will give time for any new variety to\nbe slowly improved; and this may sometimes be of importance in the\nproduction of new species. If, however, an isolated area be very small,\neither from being surrounded by barriers, or from having very peculiar\nphysical conditions, the total number of the individuals supported on it\nwill necessarily be very small; and fewness of individuals will greatly\nretard the production of new species through natural selection, by\ndecreasing the chance of the appearance of favourable variations.\n\nIf we turn to nature to test the truth of these remarks, and look at\nany small isolated area, such as an oceanic island, although the total\nnumber of the species inhabiting it, will be found to be small, as we\nshall see in our chapter on geographical distribution; yet of these\nspecies a very large proportion are endemic,--that is, have been\nproduced there, and nowhere else. Hence an oceanic island at first sight\nseems to have been highly favourable for the production of new species.\nBut we may thus greatly deceive ourselves, for to ascertain whether a\nsmall isolated area, or a large open area like a continent, has been\nmost favourable for the production of new organic forms, we ought to\nmake the comparison within equal times; and this we are incapable of\ndoing.\n\nAlthough I do not doubt that isolation is of considerable importance\nin the production of new species, on the whole I am inclined to believe\nthat largeness of area is of more importance, more especially in the\nproduction of species, which will prove capable of enduring for a long\nperiod, and of spreading widely. Throughout a great and open area, not\nonly will there be a better chance of favourable variations arising from\nthe large number of individuals of the same species there supported, but\nthe conditions of life are infinitely complex from the large number\nof already existing species; and if some of these many species\nbecome modified and improved, others will have to be improved in a\ncorresponding degree or they will be exterminated. Each new form, also,\nas soon as it has been much improved, will be able to spread over the\nopen and continuous area, and will thus come into competition with many\nothers. Hence more new places will be formed, and the competition to\nfill them will be more severe, on a large than on a small and\nisolated area. Moreover, great areas, though now continuous, owing to\noscillations of level, will often have recently existed in a broken\ncondition, so that the good effects of isolation will generally, to a\ncertain extent, have concurred. Finally, I conclude that, although small\nisolated areas probably have been in some respects highly favourable for\nthe production of new species, yet that the course of modification\nwill generally have been more rapid on large areas; and what is more\nimportant, that the new forms produced on large areas, which already\nhave been victorious over many competitors, will be those that will\nspread most widely, will give rise to most new varieties and species,\nand will thus play an important part in the changing history of the\norganic world.\n\nWe can, perhaps, on these views, understand some facts which will\nbe again alluded to in our chapter on geographical distribution; for\ninstance, that the productions of the smaller continent of Australia\nhave formerly yielded, and apparently are now yielding, before those\nof the larger Europaeo-Asiatic area. Thus, also, it is that continental\nproductions have everywhere become so largely naturalised on islands. On\na small island, the race for life will have been less severe, and there\nwill have been less modification and less extermination. Hence, perhaps,\nit comes that the flora of Madeira, according to Oswald Heer, resembles\nthe extinct tertiary flora of Europe. All fresh-water basins, taken\ntogether, make a small area compared with that of the sea or of the\nland; and, consequently, the competition between fresh-water productions\nwill have been less severe than elsewhere; new forms will have been\nmore slowly formed, and old forms more slowly exterminated. And it is\nin fresh water that we find seven genera of Ganoid fishes, remnants of\na once preponderant order: and in fresh water we find some of the most\nanomalous forms now known in the world, as the Ornithorhynchus and\nLepidosiren, which, like fossils, connect to a certain extent orders now\nwidely separated in the natural scale. These anomalous forms may almost\nbe called living fossils; they have endured to the present day, from\nhaving inhabited a confined area, and from having thus been exposed to\nless severe competition.\n\nTo sum up the circumstances favourable and unfavourable to natural\nselection, as far as the extreme intricacy of the subject permits. I\nconclude, looking to the future, that for terrestrial productions a\nlarge continental area, which will probably undergo many oscillations\nof level, and which consequently will exist for long periods in a broken\ncondition, will be the most favourable for the production of many new\nforms of life, likely to endure long and to spread widely. For the area\nwill first have existed as a continent, and the inhabitants, at this\nperiod numerous in individuals and kinds, will have been subjected\nto very severe competition. When converted by subsidence into large\nseparate islands, there will still exist many individuals of the same\nspecies on each island: intercrossing on the confines of the range of\neach species will thus be checked: after physical changes of any kind,\nimmigration will be prevented, so that new places in the polity of\neach island will have to be filled up by modifications of the old\ninhabitants; and time will be allowed for the varieties in each to\nbecome well modified and perfected. When, by renewed elevation, the\nislands shall be re-converted into a continental area, there will again\nbe severe competition: the most favoured or improved varieties will be\nenabled to spread: there will be much extinction of the less improved\nforms, and the relative proportional numbers of the various inhabitants\nof the renewed continent will again be changed; and again there will\nbe a fair field for natural selection to improve still further the\ninhabitants, and thus produce new species.\n\nThat natural selection will always act with extreme slowness, I fully\nadmit. Its action depends on there being places in the polity of nature,\nwhich can be better occupied by some of the inhabitants of the country\nundergoing modification of some kind. The existence of such places will\noften depend on physical changes, which are generally very slow, and\non the immigration of better adapted forms having been checked. But the\naction of natural selection will probably still oftener depend on some\nof the inhabitants becoming slowly modified; the mutual relations of\nmany of the other inhabitants being thus disturbed. Nothing can be\neffected, unless favourable variations occur, and variation itself is\napparently always a very slow process. The process will often be greatly\nretarded by free intercrossing. Many will exclaim that these several\ncauses are amply sufficient wholly to stop the action of natural\nselection. I do not believe so. On the other hand, I do believe that\nnatural selection will always act very slowly, often only at long\nintervals of time, and generally on only a very few of the inhabitants\nof the same region at the same time. I further believe, that this very\nslow, intermittent action of natural selection accords perfectly\nwell with what geology tells us of the rate and manner at which the\ninhabitants of this world have changed.\n\nSlow though the process of selection may be, if feeble man can do much\nby his powers of artificial selection, I can see no limit to the amount\nof change, to the beauty and infinite complexity of the coadaptations\nbetween all organic beings, one with another and with their physical\nconditions of life, which may be effected in the long course of time by\nnature's power of selection.\n\nEXTINCTION.\n\nThis subject will be more fully discussed in our chapter on Geology; but\nit must be here alluded to from being intimately connected with natural\nselection. Natural selection acts solely through the preservation of\nvariations in some way advantageous, which consequently endure. But as\nfrom the high geometrical powers of increase of all organic beings, each\narea is already fully stocked with inhabitants, it follows that as\neach selected and favoured form increases in number, so will the less\nfavoured forms decrease and become rare. Rarity, as geology tells us, is\nthe precursor to extinction. We can, also, see that any form represented\nby few individuals will, during fluctuations in the seasons or in the\nnumber of its enemies, run a good chance of utter extinction. But we may\ngo further than this; for as new forms are continually and slowly being\nproduced, unless we believe that the number of specific forms goes on\nperpetually and almost indefinitely increasing, numbers inevitably must\nbecome extinct. That the number of specific forms has not indefinitely\nincreased, geology shows us plainly; and indeed we can see reason why\nthey should not have thus increased, for the number of places in the\npolity of nature is not indefinitely great,--not that we have any means\nof knowing that any one region has as yet got its maximum of species.\nProbably no region is as yet fully stocked, for at the Cape of Good\nHope, where more species of plants are crowded together than in any\nother quarter of the world, some foreign plants have become naturalised,\nwithout causing, as far as we know, the extinction of any natives.\n\nFurthermore, the species which are most numerous in individuals will\nhave the best chance of producing within any given period favourable\nvariations. We have evidence of this, in the facts given in the second\nchapter, showing that it is the common species which afford the greatest\nnumber of recorded varieties, or incipient species. Hence, rare species\nwill be less quickly modified or improved within any given period, and\nthey will consequently be beaten in the race for life by the modified\ndescendants of the commoner species.\n\nFrom these several considerations I think it inevitably follows, that as\nnew species in the course of time are formed through natural selection,\nothers will become rarer and rarer, and finally extinct. The forms which\nstand in closest competition with those undergoing modification and\nimprovement, will naturally suffer most. And we have seen in the\nchapter on the Struggle for Existence that it is the most closely-allied\nforms,--varieties of the same species, and species of the same genus\nor of related genera,--which, from having nearly the same structure,\nconstitution, and habits, generally come into the severest competition\nwith each other. Consequently, each new variety or species, during the\nprogress of its formation, will generally press hardest on its nearest\nkindred, and tend to exterminate them. We see the same process of\nextermination amongst our domesticated productions, through the\nselection of improved forms by man. Many curious instances could\nbe given showing how quickly new breeds of cattle, sheep, and other\nanimals, and varieties of flowers, take the place of older and inferior\nkinds. In Yorkshire, it is historically known that the ancient black\ncattle were displaced by the long-horns, and that these \"were swept away\nby the short-horns\" (I quote the words of an agricultural writer) \"as if\nby some murderous pestilence.\"\n\nDIVERGENCE OF CHARACTER.\n\nThe principle, which I have designated by this term, is of high\nimportance on my theory, and explains, as I believe, several important\nfacts. In the first place, varieties, even strongly-marked ones, though\nhaving somewhat of the character of species--as is shown by the hopeless\ndoubts in many cases how to rank them--yet certainly differ from\neach other far less than do good and distinct species. Nevertheless,\naccording to my view, varieties are species in the process of formation,\nor are, as I have called them, incipient species. How, then, does the\nlesser difference between varieties become augmented into the greater\ndifference between species? That this does habitually happen, we must\ninfer from most of the innumerable species throughout nature presenting\nwell-marked differences; whereas varieties, the supposed prototypes and\nparents of future well-marked species, present slight and ill-defined\ndifferences. Mere chance, as we may call it, might cause one variety\nto differ in some character from its parents, and the offspring of this\nvariety again to differ from its parent in the very same character and\nin a greater degree; but this alone would never account for so habitual\nand large an amount of difference as that between varieties of the same\nspecies and species of the same genus.\n\nAs has always been my practice, let us seek light on this head from our\ndomestic productions. We shall here find something analogous. A fancier\nis struck by a pigeon having a slightly shorter beak; another fancier is\nstruck by a pigeon having a rather longer beak; and on the acknowledged\nprinciple that \"fanciers do not and will not admire a medium standard,\nbut like extremes,\" they both go on (as has actually occurred with\ntumbler-pigeons) choosing and breeding from birds with longer and longer\nbeaks, or with shorter and shorter beaks. Again, we may suppose that at\nan early period one man preferred swifter horses; another stronger and\nmore bulky horses. The early differences would be very slight; in the\ncourse of time, from the continued selection of swifter horses by some\nbreeders, and of stronger ones by others, the differences would become\ngreater, and would be noted as forming two sub-breeds; finally, after\nthe lapse of centuries, the sub-breeds would become converted into two\nwell-established and distinct breeds. As the differences slowly become\ngreater, the inferior animals with intermediate characters, being\nneither very swift nor very strong, will have been neglected, and will\nhave tended to disappear. Here, then, we see in man's productions\nthe action of what may be called the principle of divergence, causing\ndifferences, at first barely appreciable, steadily to increase, and\nthe breeds to diverge in character both from each other and from their\ncommon parent.\n\nBut how, it may be asked, can any analogous principle apply in nature?\nI believe it can and does apply most efficiently, from the simple\ncircumstance that the more diversified the descendants from any one\nspecies become in structure, constitution, and habits, by so much will\nthey be better enabled to seize on many and widely diversified places in\nthe polity of nature, and so be enabled to increase in numbers.\n\nWe can clearly see this in the case of animals with simple habits. Take\nthe case of a carnivorous quadruped, of which the number that can be\nsupported in any country has long ago arrived at its full average. If\nits natural powers of increase be allowed to act, it can succeed in\nincreasing (the country not undergoing any change in its conditions)\nonly by its varying descendants seizing on places at present occupied by\nother animals: some of them, for instance, being enabled to feed on\nnew kinds of prey, either dead or alive; some inhabiting new stations,\nclimbing trees, frequenting water, and some perhaps becoming less\ncarnivorous. The more diversified in habits and structure the\ndescendants of our carnivorous animal became, the more places they would\nbe enabled to occupy. What applies to one animal will apply throughout\nall time to all animals--that is, if they vary--for otherwise natural\nselection can do nothing. So it will be with plants. It has been\nexperimentally proved, that if a plot of ground be sown with one species\nof grass, and a similar plot be sown with several distinct genera of\ngrasses, a greater number of plants and a greater weight of dry herbage\ncan thus be raised. The same has been found to hold good when first\none variety and then several mixed varieties of wheat have been sown on\nequal spaces of ground. Hence, if any one species of grass were to go\non varying, and those varieties were continually selected which differed\nfrom each other in at all the same manner as distinct species and genera\nof grasses differ from each other, a greater number of individual plants\nof this species of grass, including its modified descendants, would\nsucceed in living on the same piece of ground. And we well know that\neach species and each variety of grass is annually sowing almost\ncountless seeds; and thus, as it may be said, is striving its utmost to\nincrease its numbers. Consequently, I cannot doubt that in the course\nof many thousands of generations, the most distinct varieties of any one\nspecies of grass would always have the best chance of succeeding and\nof increasing in numbers, and thus of supplanting the less distinct\nvarieties; and varieties, when rendered very distinct from each other,\ntake the rank of species.\n\nThe truth of the principle, that the greatest amount of life can be\nsupported by great diversification of structure, is seen under many\nnatural circumstances. In an extremely small area, especially if freely\nopen to immigration, and where the contest between individual and\nindividual must be severe, we always find great diversity in its\ninhabitants. For instance, I found that a piece of turf, three feet by\nfour in size, which had been exposed for many years to exactly the same\nconditions, supported twenty species of plants, and these belonged to\neighteen genera and to eight orders, which shows how much these plants\ndiffered from each other. So it is with the plants and insects on small\nand uniform islets; and so in small ponds of fresh water. Farmers find\nthat they can raise most food by a rotation of plants belonging to the\nmost different orders: nature follows what may be called a simultaneous\nrotation. Most of the animals and plants which live close round any\nsmall piece of ground, could live on it (supposing it not to be in\nany way peculiar in its nature), and may be said to be striving to the\nutmost to live there; but, it is seen, that where they come into the\nclosest competition with each other, the advantages of diversification\nof structure, with the accompanying differences of habit and\nconstitution, determine that the inhabitants, which thus jostle each\nother most closely, shall, as a general rule, belong to what we call\ndifferent genera and orders.\n\nThe same principle is seen in the naturalisation of plants through man's\nagency in foreign lands. It might have been expected that the plants\nwhich have succeeded in becoming naturalised in any land would generally\nhave been closely allied to the indigenes; for these are commonly looked\nat as specially created and adapted for their own country. It might,\nalso, perhaps have been expected that naturalised plants would have\nbelonged to a few groups more especially adapted to certain stations in\ntheir new homes. But the case is very different; and Alph. De Candolle\nhas well remarked in his great and admirable work, that floras gain by\nnaturalisation, proportionally with the number of the native genera and\nspecies, far more in new genera than in new species. To give a single\ninstance: in the last edition of Dr. Asa Gray's 'Manual of the Flora of\nthe Northern United States,' 260 naturalised plants are enumerated, and\nthese belong to 162 genera. We thus see that these naturalised plants\nare of a highly diversified nature. They differ, moreover, to a large\nextent from the indigenes, for out of the 162 genera, no less than 100\ngenera are not there indigenous, and thus a large proportional addition\nis made to the genera of these States.\n\nBy considering the nature of the plants or animals which have struggled\nsuccessfully with the indigenes of any country, and have there become\nnaturalised, we can gain some crude idea in what manner some of the\nnatives would have had to be modified, in order to have gained an\nadvantage over the other natives; and we may, I think, at least safely\ninfer that diversification of structure, amounting to new generic\ndifferences, would have been profitable to them.\n\nThe advantage of diversification in the inhabitants of the same region\nis, in fact, the same as that of the physiological division of labour in\nthe organs of the same individual body--a subject so well elucidated by\nMilne Edwards. No physiologist doubts that a stomach by being adapted to\ndigest vegetable matter alone, or flesh alone, draws most nutriment from\nthese substances. So in the general economy of any land, the more widely\nand perfectly the animals and plants are diversified for different\nhabits of life, so will a greater number of individuals be capable of\nthere supporting themselves. A set of animals, with their organisation\nbut little diversified, could hardly compete with a set more perfectly\ndiversified in structure. It may be doubted, for instance, whether\nthe Australian marsupials, which are divided into groups differing but\nlittle from each other, and feebly representing, as Mr. Waterhouse and\nothers have remarked, our carnivorous, ruminant, and rodent mammals,\ncould successfully compete with these well-pronounced orders. In the\nAustralian mammals, we see the process of diversification in an early\nand incomplete stage of development. After the foregoing discussion,\nwhich ought to have been much amplified, we may, I think, assume that\nthe modified descendants of any one species will succeed by so much\nthe better as they become more diversified in structure, and are thus\nenabled to encroach on places occupied by other beings. Now let us see\nhow this principle of great benefit being derived from divergence of\ncharacter, combined with the principles of natural selection and of\nextinction, will tend to act.\n\nThe accompanying diagram will aid us in understanding this rather\nperplexing subject. Let A to L represent the species of a genus large\nin its own country; these species are supposed to resemble each other\nin unequal degrees, as is so generally the case in nature, and as is\nrepresented in the diagram by the letters standing at unequal distances.\nI have said a large genus, because we have seen in the second chapter,\nthat on an average more of the species of large genera vary than of\nsmall genera; and the varying species of the large genera present a\ngreater number of varieties. We have, also, seen that the species, which\nare the commonest and the most widely-diffused, vary more than rare\nspecies with restricted ranges. Let (A) be a common, widely-diffused,\nand varying species, belonging to a genus large in its own country. The\nlittle fan of diverging dotted lines of unequal lengths proceeding from\n(A), may represent its varying offspring. The variations are supposed\nto be extremely slight, but of the most diversified nature; they are not\nsupposed all to appear simultaneously, but often after long intervals of\ntime; nor are they all supposed to endure for equal periods. Only\nthose variations which are in some way profitable will be preserved or\nnaturally selected. And here the importance of the principle of benefit\nbeing derived from divergence of character comes in; for this\nwill generally lead to the most different or divergent variations\n(represented by the outer dotted lines) being preserved and accumulated\nby natural selection. When a dotted line reaches one of the horizontal\nlines, and is there marked by a small numbered letter, a sufficient\namount of variation is supposed to have been accumulated to have formed\na fairly well-marked variety, such as would be thought worthy of record\nin a systematic work.\n\nThe intervals between the horizontal lines in the diagram, may represent\neach a thousand generations; but it would have been better if each had\nrepresented ten thousand generations. After a thousand generations,\nspecies (A) is supposed to have produced two fairly well-marked\nvarieties, namely a1 and m1. These two varieties will generally continue\nto be exposed to the same conditions which made their parents variable,\nand the tendency to variability is in itself hereditary, consequently\nthey will tend to vary, and generally to vary in nearly the same manner\nas their parents varied. Moreover, these two varieties, being only\nslightly modified forms, will tend to inherit those advantages which\nmade their common parent (A) more numerous than most of the other\ninhabitants of the same country; they will likewise partake of those\nmore general advantages which made the genus to which the parent-species\nbelonged, a large genus in its own country. And these circumstances we\nknow to be favourable to the production of new varieties.\n\nIf, then, these two varieties be variable, the most divergent of\ntheir variations will generally be preserved during the next thousand\ngenerations. And after this interval, variety a1 is supposed in the\ndiagram to have produced variety a2, which will, owing to the principle\nof divergence, differ more from (A) than did variety a1. Variety m1 is\nsupposed to have produced two varieties, namely m2 and s2, differing\nfrom each other, and more considerably from their common parent (A). We\nmay continue the process by similar steps for any length of time; some\nof the varieties, after each thousand generations, producing only\na single variety, but in a more and more modified condition, some\nproducing two or three varieties, and some failing to produce any. Thus\nthe varieties or modified descendants, proceeding from the common\nparent (A), will generally go on increasing in number and diverging\nin character. In the diagram the process is represented up to the\nten-thousandth generation, and under a condensed and simplified form up\nto the fourteen-thousandth generation.\n\nBut I must here remark that I do not suppose that the process ever goes\non so regularly as is represented in the diagram, though in itself\nmade somewhat irregular. I am far from thinking that the most divergent\nvarieties will invariably prevail and multiply: a medium form may\noften long endure, and may or may not produce more than one modified\ndescendant; for natural selection will always act according to the\nnature of the places which are either unoccupied or not perfectly\noccupied by other beings; and this will depend on infinitely complex\nrelations. But as a general rule, the more diversified in structure the\ndescendants from any one species can be rendered, the more places they\nwill be enabled to seize on, and the more their modified progeny will\nbe increased. In our diagram the line of succession is broken at regular\nintervals by small numbered letters marking the successive forms which\nhave become sufficiently distinct to be recorded as varieties. But\nthese breaks are imaginary, and might have been inserted anywhere, after\nintervals long enough to have allowed the accumulation of a considerable\namount of divergent variation.\n\nAs all the modified descendants from a common and widely-diffused\nspecies, belonging to a large genus, will tend to partake of the\nsame advantages which made their parent successful in life, they will\ngenerally go on multiplying in number as well as diverging in character:\nthis is represented in the diagram by the several divergent branches\nproceeding from (A). The modified offspring from the later and more\nhighly improved branches in the lines of descent, will, it is probable,\noften take the place of, and so destroy, the earlier and less improved\nbranches: this is represented in the diagram by some of the lower\nbranches not reaching to the upper horizontal lines. In some cases I do\nnot doubt that the process of modification will be confined to a\nsingle line of descent, and the number of the descendants will not be\nincreased; although the amount of divergent modification may have been\nincreased in the successive generations. This case would be represented\nin the diagram, if all the lines proceeding from (A) were removed,\nexcepting that from a1 to a10. In the same way, for instance, the\nEnglish race-horse and English pointer have apparently both gone on\nslowly diverging in character from their original stocks, without either\nhaving given off any fresh branches or races.\n\nAfter ten thousand generations, species (A) is supposed to have produced\nthree forms, a10, f10, and m10, which, from having diverged in character\nduring the successive generations, will have come to differ largely, but\nperhaps unequally, from each other and from their common parent. If we\nsuppose the amount of change between each horizontal line in our diagram\nto be excessively small, these three forms may still be only well-marked\nvarieties; or they may have arrived at the doubtful category of\nsub-species; but we have only to suppose the steps in the process of\nmodification to be more numerous or greater in amount, to convert these\nthree forms into well-defined species: thus the diagram illustrates\nthe steps by which the small differences distinguishing varieties\nare increased into the larger differences distinguishing species. By\ncontinuing the same process for a greater number of generations (as\nshown in the diagram in a condensed and simplified manner), we get eight\nspecies, marked by the letters between a14 and m14, all descended from\n(A). Thus, as I believe, species are multiplied and genera are formed.\n\nIn a large genus it is probable that more than one species would vary.\nIn the diagram I have assumed that a second species (I) has produced, by\nanalogous steps, after ten thousand generations, either two well-marked\nvarieties (w10 and z10) or two species, according to the amount of\nchange supposed to be represented between the horizontal lines. After\nfourteen thousand generations, six new species, marked by the letters\nn14 to z14, are supposed to have been produced. In each genus, the\nspecies, which are already extremely different in character, will\ngenerally tend to produce the greatest number of modified descendants;\nfor these will have the best chance of filling new and widely different\nplaces in the polity of nature: hence in the diagram I have chosen the\nextreme species (A), and the nearly extreme species (I), as those which\nhave largely varied, and have given rise to new varieties and species.\nThe other nine species (marked by capital letters) of our original\ngenus, may for a long period continue transmitting unaltered\ndescendants; and this is shown in the diagram by the dotted lines not\nprolonged far upwards from want of space.\n\nBut during the process of modification, represented in the diagram,\nanother of our principles, namely that of extinction, will have played\nan important part. As in each fully stocked country natural selection\nnecessarily acts by the selected form having some advantage in the\nstruggle for life over other forms, there will be a constant tendency in\nthe improved descendants of any one species to supplant and exterminate\nin each stage of descent their predecessors and their original parent.\nFor it should be remembered that the competition will generally be most\nsevere between those forms which are most nearly related to each other\nin habits, constitution, and structure. Hence all the intermediate forms\nbetween the earlier and later states, that is between the less and more\nimproved state of a species, as well as the original parent-species\nitself, will generally tend to become extinct. So it probably will be\nwith many whole collateral lines of descent, which will be conquered by\nlater and improved lines of descent. If, however, the modified offspring\nof a species get into some distinct country, or become quickly adapted\nto some quite new station, in which child and parent do not come into\ncompetition, both may continue to exist.\n\nIf then our diagram be assumed to represent a considerable amount of\nmodification, species (A) and all the earlier varieties will have become\nextinct, having been replaced by eight new species (a14 to m14); and (I)\nwill have been replaced by six (n14 to z14) new species.\n\nBut we may go further than this. The original species of our genus were\nsupposed to resemble each other in unequal degrees, as is so generally\nthe case in nature; species (A) being more nearly related to B, C, and\nD, than to the other species; and species (I) more to G, H, K, L, than\nto the others. These two species (A) and (I), were also supposed to be\nvery common and widely diffused species, so that they must originally\nhave had some advantage over most of the other species of the\ngenus. Their modified descendants, fourteen in number at the\nfourteen-thousandth generation, will probably have inherited some of\nthe same advantages: they have also been modified and improved in\na diversified manner at each stage of descent, so as to have become\nadapted to many related places in the natural economy of their country.\nIt seems, therefore, to me extremely probable that they will have taken\nthe places of, and thus exterminated, not only their parents (A) and\n(I), but likewise some of the original species which were most nearly\nrelated to their parents. Hence very few of the original species will\nhave transmitted offspring to the fourteen-thousandth generation. We may\nsuppose that only one (F), of the two species which were least closely\nrelated to the other nine original species, has transmitted descendants\nto this late stage of descent.\n\nThe new species in our diagram descended from the original eleven\nspecies, will now be fifteen in number. Owing to the divergent tendency\nof natural selection, the extreme amount of difference in character\nbetween species a14 and z14 will be much greater than that between\nthe most different of the original eleven species. The new species,\nmoreover, will be allied to each other in a widely different manner. Of\nthe eight descendants from (A) the three marked a14, q14, p14, will be\nnearly related from having recently branched off from a10; b14 and\nf14, from having diverged at an earlier period from a5, will be in some\ndegree distinct from the three first-named species; and lastly, o14,\ne14, and m14, will be nearly related one to the other, but from having\ndiverged at the first commencement of the process of modification, will\nbe widely different from the other five species, and may constitute a\nsub-genus or even a distinct genus.\n\nThe six descendants from (I) will form two sub-genera or even genera.\nBut as the original species (I) differed largely from (A), standing\nnearly at the extreme points of the original genus, the six descendants\nfrom (I) will, owing to inheritance, differ considerably from the eight\ndescendants from (A); the two groups, moreover, are supposed to have\ngone on diverging in different directions. The intermediate species,\nalso (and this is a very important consideration), which connected the\noriginal species (A) and (I), have all become, excepting (F), extinct,\nand have left no descendants. Hence the six new species descended from\n(I), and the eight descended from (A), will have to be ranked as very\ndistinct genera, or even as distinct sub-families.\n\nThus it is, as I believe, that two or more genera are produced by\ndescent, with modification, from two or more species of the same genus.\nAnd the two or more parent-species are supposed to have descended from\nsome one species of an earlier genus. In our diagram, this is indicated\nby the broken lines, beneath the capital letters, converging in\nsub-branches downwards towards a single point; this point representing a\nsingle species, the supposed single parent of our several new sub-genera\nand genera.\n\nIt is worth while to reflect for a moment on the character of the new\nspecies F14, which is supposed not to have diverged much in character,\nbut to have retained the form of (F), either unaltered or altered only\nin a slight degree. In this case, its affinities to the other fourteen\nnew species will be of a curious and circuitous nature. Having descended\nfrom a form which stood between the two parent-species (A) and (I),\nnow supposed to be extinct and unknown, it will be in some degree\nintermediate in character between the two groups descended from these\nspecies. But as these two groups have gone on diverging in character\nfrom the type of their parents, the new species (F14) will not be\ndirectly intermediate between them, but rather between types of the two\ngroups; and every naturalist will be able to bring some such case before\nhis mind.\n\nIn the diagram, each horizontal line has hitherto been supposed to\nrepresent a thousand generations, but each may represent a million or\nhundred million generations, and likewise a section of the successive\nstrata of the earth's crust including extinct remains. We shall, when we\ncome to our chapter on Geology, have to refer again to this subject,\nand I think we shall then see that the diagram throws light on the\naffinities of extinct beings, which, though generally belonging to the\nsame orders, or families, or genera, with those now living, yet are\noften, in some degree, intermediate in character between existing\ngroups; and we can understand this fact, for the extinct species lived\nat very ancient epochs when the branching lines of descent had diverged\nless.\n\nI see no reason to limit the process of modification, as now explained,\nto the formation of genera alone. If, in our diagram, we suppose the\namount of change represented by each successive group of diverging\ndotted lines to be very great, the forms marked a14 to p14, those marked\nb14 and f14, and those marked o14 to m14, will form three very distinct\ngenera. We shall also have two very distinct genera descended from\n(I) and as these latter two genera, both from continued divergence of\ncharacter and from inheritance from a different parent, will differ\nwidely from the three genera descended from (A), the two little groups\nof genera will form two distinct families, or even orders, according to\nthe amount of divergent modification supposed to be represented in the\ndiagram. And the two new families, or orders, will have descended from\ntwo species of the original genus; and these two species are supposed\nto have descended from one species of a still more ancient and unknown\ngenus.\n\nWe have seen that in each country it is the species of the larger genera\nwhich oftenest present varieties or incipient species. This, indeed,\nmight have been expected; for as natural selection acts through one form\nhaving some advantage over other forms in the struggle for existence,\nit will chiefly act on those which already have some advantage; and\nthe largeness of any group shows that its species have inherited from\na common ancestor some advantage in common. Hence, the struggle for the\nproduction of new and modified descendants, will mainly lie between the\nlarger groups, which are all trying to increase in number. One large\ngroup will slowly conquer another large group, reduce its numbers, and\nthus lessen its chance of further variation and improvement. Within the\nsame large group, the later and more highly perfected sub-groups, from\nbranching out and seizing on many new places in the polity of Nature,\nwill constantly tend to supplant and destroy the earlier and less\nimproved sub-groups. Small and broken groups and sub-groups will finally\ntend to disappear. Looking to the future, we can predict that the groups\nof organic beings which are now large and triumphant, and which are\nleast broken up, that is, which as yet have suffered least extinction,\nwill for a long period continue to increase. But which groups will\nultimately prevail, no man can predict; for we well know that many\ngroups, formerly most extensively developed, have now become extinct.\nLooking still more remotely to the future, we may predict that, owing to\nthe continued and steady increase of the larger groups, a multitude\nof smaller groups will become utterly extinct, and leave no modified\ndescendants; and consequently that of the species living at any one\nperiod, extremely few will transmit descendants to a remote futurity. I\nshall have to return to this subject in the chapter on Classification,\nbut I may add that on this view of extremely few of the more ancient\nspecies having transmitted descendants, and on the view of all the\ndescendants of the same species making a class, we can understand how\nit is that there exist but very few classes in each main division of\nthe animal and vegetable kingdoms. Although extremely few of the most\nancient species may now have living and modified descendants, yet at the\nmost remote geological period, the earth may have been as well peopled\nwith many species of many genera, families, orders, and classes, as at\nthe present day.\n\nSUMMARY OF CHAPTER.\n\nIf during the long course of ages and under varying conditions of life,\norganic beings vary at all in the several parts of their organisation,\nand I think this cannot be disputed; if there be, owing to the high\ngeometrical powers of increase of each species, at some age, season, or\nyear, a severe struggle for life, and this certainly cannot be disputed;\nthen, considering the infinite complexity of the relations of all\norganic beings to each other and to their conditions of existence,\ncausing an infinite diversity in structure, constitution, and habits, to\nbe advantageous to them, I think it would be a most extraordinary fact\nif no variation ever had occurred useful to each being's own welfare, in\nthe same way as so many variations have occurred useful to man. But if\nvariations useful to any organic being do occur, assuredly individuals\nthus characterised will have the best chance of being preserved in the\nstruggle for life; and from the strong principle of inheritance they\nwill tend to produce offspring similarly characterised. This principle\nof preservation, I have called, for the sake of brevity, Natural\nSelection. Natural selection, on the principle of qualities being\ninherited at corresponding ages, can modify the egg, seed, or young, as\neasily as the adult. Amongst many animals, sexual selection will give\nits aid to ordinary selection, by assuring to the most vigorous and best\nadapted males the greatest number of offspring. Sexual selection will\nalso give characters useful to the males alone, in their struggles with\nother males.\n\nWhether natural selection has really thus acted in nature, in modifying\nand adapting the various forms of life to their several conditions\nand stations, must be judged of by the general tenour and balance of\nevidence given in the following chapters. But we already see how it\nentails extinction; and how largely extinction has acted in the world's\nhistory, geology plainly declares. Natural selection, also, leads to\ndivergence of character; for more living beings can be supported on the\nsame area the more they diverge in structure, habits, and constitution,\nof which we see proof by looking at the inhabitants of any small spot\nor at naturalised productions. Therefore during the modification of the\ndescendants of any one species, and during the incessant struggle of all\nspecies to increase in numbers, the more diversified these descendants\nbecome, the better will be their chance of succeeding in the battle of\nlife. Thus the small differences distinguishing varieties of the same\nspecies, will steadily tend to increase till they come to equal the\ngreater differences between species of the same genus, or even of\ndistinct genera.\n\nWe have seen that it is the common, the widely-diffused, and\nwidely-ranging species, belonging to the larger genera, which vary\nmost; and these will tend to transmit to their modified offspring\nthat superiority which now makes them dominant in their own countries.\nNatural selection, as has just been remarked, leads to divergence of\ncharacter and to much extinction of the less improved and intermediate\nforms of life. On these principles, I believe, the nature of the\naffinities of all organic beings may be explained. It is a truly\nwonderful fact--the wonder of which we are apt to overlook from\nfamiliarity--that all animals and all plants throughout all time and\nspace should be related to each other in group subordinate to group,\nin the manner which we everywhere behold--namely, varieties of the same\nspecies most closely related together, species of the same genus less\nclosely and unequally related together, forming sections and sub-genera,\nspecies of distinct genera much less closely related, and genera\nrelated in different degrees, forming sub-families, families, orders,\nsub-classes, and classes. The several subordinate groups in any class\ncannot be ranked in a single file, but seem rather to be clustered\nround points, and these round other points, and so on in almost endless\ncycles. On the view that each species has been independently created, I\ncan see no explanation of this great fact in the classification of all\norganic beings; but, to the best of my judgment, it is explained through\ninheritance and the complex action of natural selection, entailing\nextinction and divergence of character, as we have seen illustrated in\nthe diagram.\n\nThe affinities of all the beings of the same class have sometimes been\nrepresented by a great tree. I believe this simile largely speaks the\ntruth. The green and budding twigs may represent existing species; and\nthose produced during each former year may represent the long succession\nof extinct species. At each period of growth all the growing twigs\nhave tried to branch out on all sides, and to overtop and kill the\nsurrounding twigs and branches, in the same manner as species and groups\nof species have tried to overmaster other species in the great battle\nfor life. The limbs divided into great branches, and these into lesser\nand lesser branches, were themselves once, when the tree was small,\nbudding twigs; and this connexion of the former and present buds by\nramifying branches may well represent the classification of all extinct\nand living species in groups subordinate to groups. Of the many twigs\nwhich flourished when the tree was a mere bush, only two or three, now\ngrown into great branches, yet survive and bear all the other branches;\nso with the species which lived during long-past geological periods,\nvery few now have living and modified descendants. From the first growth\nof the tree, many a limb and branch has decayed and dropped off; and\nthese lost branches of various sizes may represent those whole orders,\nfamilies, and genera which have now no living representatives, and which\nare known to us only from having been found in a fossil state. As we\nhere and there see a thin straggling branch springing from a fork low\ndown in a tree, and which by some chance has been favoured and is\nstill alive on its summit, so we occasionally see an animal like the\nOrnithorhynchus or Lepidosiren, which in some small degree connects by\nits affinities two large branches of life, and which has apparently been\nsaved from fatal competition by having inhabited a protected station. As\nbuds give rise by growth to fresh buds, and these, if vigorous, branch\nout and overtop on all sides many a feebler branch, so by generation I\nbelieve it has been with the great Tree of Life, which fills with its\ndead and broken branches the crust of the earth, and covers the surface\nwith its ever branching and beautiful ramifications.\n\n\n\n\n5. LAWS OF VARIATION.\n\nEffects of external conditions. Use and disuse, combined with natural\nselection; organs of flight and of vision. Acclimatisation. Correlation\nof growth. Compensation and economy of growth. False correlations.\nMultiple, rudimentary, and lowly organised structures variable. Parts\ndeveloped in an unusual manner are highly variable: specific characters\nmore variable than generic: secondary sexual characters variable.\nSpecies of the same genus vary in an analogous manner. Reversions to\nlong lost characters. Summary.\n\nI have hitherto sometimes spoken as if the variations--so common and\nmultiform in organic beings under domestication, and in a lesser degree\nin those in a state of nature--had been due to chance. This, of course,\nis a wholly incorrect expression, but it serves to acknowledge plainly\nour ignorance of the cause of each particular variation. Some authors\nbelieve it to be as much the function of the reproductive system to\nproduce individual differences, or very slight deviations of structure,\nas to make the child like its parents. But the much greater variability,\nas well as the greater frequency of monstrosities, under domestication\nor cultivation, than under nature, leads me to believe that deviations\nof structure are in some way due to the nature of the conditions of\nlife, to which the parents and their more remote ancestors have been\nexposed during several generations. I have remarked in the first\nchapter--but a long catalogue of facts which cannot be here given would\nbe necessary to show the truth of the remark--that the reproductive\nsystem is eminently susceptible to changes in the conditions of life;\nand to this system being functionally disturbed in the parents, I\nchiefly attribute the varying or plastic condition of the offspring. The\nmale and female sexual elements seem to be affected before that union\ntakes place which is to form a new being. In the case of \"sporting\"\nplants, the bud, which in its earliest condition does not apparently\ndiffer essentially from an ovule, is alone affected. But why, because\nthe reproductive system is disturbed, this or that part should vary more\nor less, we are profoundly ignorant. Nevertheless, we can here and there\ndimly catch a faint ray of light, and we may feel sure that there must\nbe some cause for each deviation of structure, however slight.\n\nHow much direct effect difference of climate, food, etc., produces on\nany being is extremely doubtful. My impression is, that the effect is\nextremely small in the case of animals, but perhaps rather more in that\nof plants. We may, at least, safely conclude that such influences cannot\nhave produced the many striking and complex co-adaptations of structure\nbetween one organic being and another, which we see everywhere\nthroughout nature. Some little influence may be attributed to climate,\nfood, etc.: thus, E. Forbes speaks confidently that shells at their\nsouthern limit, and when living in shallow water, are more brightly\ncoloured than those of the same species further north or from greater\ndepths. Gould believes that birds of the same species are more brightly\ncoloured under a clear atmosphere, than when living on islands or near\nthe coast. So with insects, Wollaston is convinced that residence near\nthe sea affects their colours. Moquin-Tandon gives a list of plants\nwhich when growing near the sea-shore have their leaves in some degree\nfleshy, though not elsewhere fleshy. Several other such cases could be\ngiven.\n\nThe fact of varieties of one species, when they range into the zone of\nhabitation of other species, often acquiring in a very slight degree\nsome of the characters of such species, accords with our view that\nspecies of all kinds are only well-marked and permanent varieties. Thus\nthe species of shells which are confined to tropical and shallow seas\nare generally brighter-coloured than those confined to cold and deeper\nseas. The birds which are confined to continents are, according to\nMr. Gould, brighter-coloured than those of islands. The insect-species\nconfined to sea-coasts, as every collector knows, are often brassy or\nlurid. Plants which live exclusively on the sea-side are very apt to\nhave fleshy leaves. He who believes in the creation of each species,\nwill have to say that this shell, for instance, was created with bright\ncolours for a warm sea; but that this other shell became bright-coloured\nby variation when it ranged into warmer or shallower waters.\n\nWhen a variation is of the slightest use to a being, we cannot tell how\nmuch of it to attribute to the accumulative action of natural selection,\nand how much to the conditions of life. Thus, it is well known to\nfurriers that animals of the same species have thicker and better fur\nthe more severe the climate is under which they have lived; but who\ncan tell how much of this difference may be due to the warmest-clad\nindividuals having been favoured and preserved during many generations,\nand how much to the direct action of the severe climate? for it would\nappear that climate has some direct action on the hair of our domestic\nquadrupeds.\n\nInstances could be given of the same variety being produced under\nconditions of life as different as can well be conceived; and, on the\nother hand, of different varieties being produced from the same species\nunder the same conditions. Such facts show how indirectly the conditions\nof life must act. Again, innumerable instances are known to every\nnaturalist of species keeping true, or not varying at all, although\nliving under the most opposite climates. Such considerations as these\nincline me to lay very little weight on the direct action of the\nconditions of life. Indirectly, as already remarked, they seem to play\nan important part in affecting the reproductive system, and in thus\ninducing variability; and natural selection will then accumulate\nall profitable variations, however slight, until they become plainly\ndeveloped and appreciable by us.\n\nEFFECTS OF USE AND DISUSE.\n\nFrom the facts alluded to in the first chapter, I think there can be\nlittle doubt that use in our domestic animals strengthens and enlarges\ncertain parts, and disuse diminishes them; and that such modifications\nare inherited. Under free nature, we can have no standard of comparison,\nby which to judge of the effects of long-continued use or disuse, for we\nknow not the parent-forms; but many animals have structures which can\nbe explained by the effects of disuse. As Professor Owen has remarked,\nthere is no greater anomaly in nature than a bird that cannot fly; yet\nthere are several in this state. The logger-headed duck of South America\ncan only flap along the surface of the water, and has its wings in\nnearly the same condition as the domestic Aylesbury duck. As the larger\nground-feeding birds seldom take flight except to escape danger, I\nbelieve that the nearly wingless condition of several birds, which now\ninhabit or have lately inhabited several oceanic islands, tenanted by\nno beast of prey, has been caused by disuse. The ostrich indeed inhabits\ncontinents and is exposed to danger from which it cannot escape by\nflight, but by kicking it can defend itself from enemies, as well as any\nof the smaller quadrupeds. We may imagine that the early progenitor\nof the ostrich had habits like those of a bustard, and that as natural\nselection increased in successive generations the size and weight of\nits body, its legs were used more, and its wings less, until they became\nincapable of flight.\n\nKirby has remarked (and I have observed the same fact) that the anterior\ntarsi, or feet, of many male dung-feeding beetles are very often broken\noff; he examined seventeen specimens in his own collection, and not one\nhad even a relic left. In the Onites apelles the tarsi are so habitually\nlost, that the insect has been described as not having them. In some\nother genera they are present, but in a rudimentary condition. In the\nAteuchus or sacred beetle of the Egyptians, they are totally deficient.\nThere is not sufficient evidence to induce us to believe that\nmutilations are ever inherited; and I should prefer explaining the\nentire absence of the anterior tarsi in Ateuchus, and their rudimentary\ncondition in some other genera, by the long-continued effects of disuse\nin their progenitors; for as the tarsi are almost always lost in many\ndung-feeding beetles, they must be lost early in life, and therefore\ncannot be much used by these insects.\n\nIn some cases we might easily put down to disuse modifications of\nstructure which are wholly, or mainly, due to natural selection. Mr.\nWollaston has discovered the remarkable fact that 200 beetles, out of\nthe 550 species inhabiting Madeira, are so far deficient in wings that\nthey cannot fly; and that of the twenty-nine endemic genera, no less\nthan twenty-three genera have all their species in this condition!\nSeveral facts, namely, that beetles in many parts of the world are very\nfrequently blown to sea and perish; that the beetles in Madeira, as\nobserved by Mr. Wollaston, lie much concealed, until the wind lulls and\nthe sun shines; that the proportion of wingless beetles is larger on\nthe exposed Dezertas than in Madeira itself; and especially the\nextraordinary fact, so strongly insisted on by Mr. Wollaston, of the\nalmost entire absence of certain large groups of beetles, elsewhere\nexcessively numerous, and which groups have habits of life almost\nnecessitating frequent flight;--these several considerations have made\nme believe that the wingless condition of so many Madeira beetles is\nmainly due to the action of natural selection, but combined probably\nwith disuse. For during thousands of successive generations each\nindividual beetle which flew least, either from its wings having been\never so little less perfectly developed or from indolent habit, will\nhave had the best chance of surviving from not being blown out to sea;\nand, on the other hand, those beetles which most readily took to flight\nwill oftenest have been blown to sea and thus have been destroyed.\n\nThe insects in Madeira which are not ground-feeders, and which, as the\nflower-feeding coleoptera and lepidoptera, must habitually use their\nwings to gain their subsistence, have, as Mr. Wollaston suspects, their\nwings not at all reduced, but even enlarged. This is quite compatible\nwith the action of natural selection. For when a new insect first\narrived on the island, the tendency of natural selection to enlarge\nor to reduce the wings, would depend on whether a greater number of\nindividuals were saved by successfully battling with the winds, or\nby giving up the attempt and rarely or never flying. As with mariners\nshipwrecked near a coast, it would have been better for the good\nswimmers if they had been able to swim still further, whereas it would\nhave been better for the bad swimmers if they had not been able to swim\nat all and had stuck to the wreck.\n\nThe eyes of moles and of some burrowing rodents are rudimentary in size,\nand in some cases are quite covered up by skin and fur. This state of\nthe eyes is probably due to gradual reduction from disuse, but aided\nperhaps by natural selection. In South America, a burrowing rodent, the\ntuco-tuco, or Ctenomys, is even more subterranean in its habits than the\nmole; and I was assured by a Spaniard, who had often caught them, that\nthey were frequently blind; one which I kept alive was certainly in\nthis condition, the cause, as appeared on dissection, having been\ninflammation of the nictitating membrane. As frequent inflammation of\nthe eyes must be injurious to any animal, and as eyes are certainly not\nindispensable to animals with subterranean habits, a reduction in their\nsize with the adhesion of the eyelids and growth of fur over them,\nmight in such case be an advantage; and if so, natural selection would\nconstantly aid the effects of disuse.\n\nIt is well known that several animals, belonging to the most different\nclasses, which inhabit the caves of Styria and of Kentucky, are blind.\nIn some of the crabs the foot-stalk for the eye remains, though the eye\nis gone; the stand for the telescope is there, though the telescope\nwith its glasses has been lost. As it is difficult to imagine that\neyes, though useless, could be in any way injurious to animals living in\ndarkness, I attribute their loss wholly to disuse. In one of the\nblind animals, namely, the cave-rat, the eyes are of immense size; and\nProfessor Silliman thought that it regained, after living some days in\nthe light, some slight power of vision. In the same manner as in Madeira\nthe wings of some of the insects have been enlarged, and the wings of\nothers have been reduced by natural selection aided by use and disuse,\nso in the case of the cave-rat natural selection seems to have struggled\nwith the loss of light and to have increased the size of the eyes;\nwhereas with all the other inhabitants of the caves, disuse by itself\nseems to have done its work.\n\nIt is difficult to imagine conditions of life more similar than deep\nlimestone caverns under a nearly similar climate; so that on the\ncommon view of the blind animals having been separately created for the\nAmerican and European caverns, close similarity in their organisation\nand affinities might have been expected; but, as Schiodte and others\nhave remarked, this is not the case, and the cave-insects of the two\ncontinents are not more closely allied than might have been anticipated\nfrom the general resemblance of the other inhabitants of North America\nand Europe. On my view we must suppose that American animals, having\nordinary powers of vision, slowly migrated by successive generations\nfrom the outer world into the deeper and deeper recesses of the Kentucky\ncaves, as did European animals into the caves of Europe. We have some\nevidence of this gradation of habit; for, as Schiodte remarks, \"animals\nnot far remote from ordinary forms, prepare the transition from light to\ndarkness. Next follow those that are constructed for twilight; and, last\nof all, those destined for total darkness.\" By the time that an animal\nhad reached, after numberless generations, the deepest recesses, disuse\nwill on this view have more or less perfectly obliterated its eyes, and\nnatural selection will often have effected other changes, such as an\nincrease in the length of the antennae or palpi, as a compensation for\nblindness. Notwithstanding such modifications, we might expect still to\nsee in the cave-animals of America, affinities to the other inhabitants\nof that continent, and in those of Europe, to the inhabitants of the\nEuropean continent. And this is the case with some of the American\ncave-animals, as I hear from Professor Dana; and some of the European\ncave-insects are very closely allied to those of the surrounding\ncountry. It would be most difficult to give any rational explanation of\nthe affinities of the blind cave-animals to the other inhabitants of the\ntwo continents on the ordinary view of their independent creation. That\nseveral of the inhabitants of the caves of the Old and New Worlds should\nbe closely related, we might expect from the well-known relationship of\nmost of their other productions. Far from feeling any surprise that some\nof the cave-animals should be very anomalous, as Agassiz has remarked\nin regard to the blind fish, the Amblyopsis, and as is the case with\nthe blind Proteus with reference to the reptiles of Europe, I am only\nsurprised that more wrecks of ancient life have not been preserved,\nowing to the less severe competition to which the inhabitants of these\ndark abodes will probably have been exposed.\n\nACCLIMATISATION.\n\nHabit is hereditary with plants, as in the period of flowering, in the\namount of rain requisite for seeds to germinate, in the time of sleep,\netc., and this leads me to say a few words on acclimatisation. As it is\nextremely common for species of the same genus to inhabit very hot and\nvery cold countries, and as I believe that all the species of the same\ngenus have descended from a single parent, if this view be correct,\nacclimatisation must be readily effected during long-continued descent.\nIt is notorious that each species is adapted to the climate of its own\nhome: species from an arctic or even from a temperate region cannot\nendure a tropical climate, or conversely. So again, many succulent\nplants cannot endure a damp climate. But the degree of adaptation of\nspecies to the climates under which they live is often overrated. We\nmay infer this from our frequent inability to predict whether or not an\nimported plant will endure our climate, and from the number of plants\nand animals brought from warmer countries which here enjoy good health.\nWe have reason to believe that species in a state of nature are limited\nin their ranges by the competition of other organic beings quite as much\nas, or more than, by adaptation to particular climates. But whether or\nnot the adaptation be generally very close, we have evidence, in\nthe case of some few plants, of their becoming, to a certain\nextent, naturally habituated to different temperatures, or becoming\nacclimatised: thus the pines and rhododendrons, raised from seed\ncollected by Dr. Hooker from trees growing at different heights on the\nHimalaya, were found in this country to possess different constitutional\npowers of resisting cold. Mr. Thwaites informs me that he has observed\nsimilar facts in Ceylon, and analogous observations have been made by\nMr. H. C. Watson on European species of plants brought from the Azores\nto England. In regard to animals, several authentic cases could be given\nof species within historical times having largely extended their\nrange from warmer to cooler latitudes, and conversely; but we do not\npositively know that these animals were strictly adapted to their native\nclimate, but in all ordinary cases we assume such to be the case; nor\ndo we know that they have subsequently become acclimatised to their new\nhomes.\n\nAs I believe that our domestic animals were originally chosen by\nuncivilised man because they were useful and bred readily under\nconfinement, and not because they were subsequently found capable\nof far-extended transportation, I think the common and extraordinary\ncapacity in our domestic animals of not only withstanding the most\ndifferent climates but of being perfectly fertile (a far severer test)\nunder them, may be used as an argument that a large proportion of other\nanimals, now in a state of nature, could easily be brought to bear\nwidely different climates. We must not, however, push the foregoing\nargument too far, on account of the probable origin of some of our\ndomestic animals from several wild stocks: the blood, for instance, of\na tropical and arctic wolf or wild dog may perhaps be mingled in our\ndomestic breeds. The rat and mouse cannot be considered as domestic\nanimals, but they have been transported by man to many parts of the\nworld, and now have a far wider range than any other rodent, living free\nunder the cold climate of Faroe in the north and of the Falklands in the\nsouth, and on many islands in the torrid zones. Hence I am inclined to\nlook at adaptation to any special climate as a quality readily grafted\non an innate wide flexibility of constitution, which is common to most\nanimals. On this view, the capacity of enduring the most different\nclimates by man himself and by his domestic animals, and such facts\nas that former species of the elephant and rhinoceros were capable\nof enduring a glacial climate, whereas the living species are now all\ntropical or sub-tropical in their habits, ought not to be looked at\nas anomalies, but merely as examples of a very common flexibility of\nconstitution, brought, under peculiar circumstances, into play.\n\nHow much of the acclimatisation of species to any peculiar climate is\ndue to mere habit, and how much to the natural selection of varieties\nhaving different innate constitutions, and how much to both means\ncombined, is a very obscure question. That habit or custom has some\ninfluence I must believe, both from analogy, and from the incessant\nadvice given in agricultural works, even in the ancient Encyclopaedias\nof China, to be very cautious in transposing animals from one district\nto another; for it is not likely that man should have succeeded in\nselecting so many breeds and sub-breeds with constitutions specially\nfitted for their own districts: the result must, I think, be due to\nhabit. On the other hand, I can see no reason to doubt that natural\nselection will continually tend to preserve those individuals which\nare born with constitutions best adapted to their native countries. In\ntreatises on many kinds of cultivated plants, certain varieties are\nsaid to withstand certain climates better than others: this is very\nstrikingly shown in works on fruit trees published in the United States,\nin which certain varieties are habitually recommended for the northern,\nand others for the southern States; and as most of these varieties are\nof recent origin, they cannot owe their constitutional differences to\nhabit. The case of the Jerusalem artichoke, which is never propagated\nby seed, and of which consequently new varieties have not been produced,\nhas even been advanced--for it is now as tender as ever it was--as\nproving that acclimatisation cannot be effected! The case, also, of the\nkidney-bean has been often cited for a similar purpose, and with\nmuch greater weight; but until some one will sow, during a score of\ngenerations, his kidney-beans so early that a very large proportion are\ndestroyed by frost, and then collect seed from the few survivors, with\ncare to prevent accidental crosses, and then again get seed from these\nseedlings, with the same precautions, the experiment cannot be said to\nhave been even tried. Nor let it be supposed that no differences in the\nconstitution of seedling kidney-beans ever appear, for an account has\nbeen published how much more hardy some seedlings appeared to be than\nothers.\n\nOn the whole, I think we may conclude that habit, use, and disuse, have,\nin some cases, played a considerable part in the modification of the\nconstitution, and of the structure of various organs; but that the\neffects of use and disuse have often been largely combined with, and\nsometimes overmastered by, the natural selection of innate differences.\n\nCORRELATION OF GROWTH.\n\nI mean by this expression that the whole organisation is so tied\ntogether during its growth and development, that when slight variations\nin any one part occur, and are accumulated through natural selection,\nother parts become modified. This is a very important subject, most\nimperfectly understood. The most obvious case is, that modifications\naccumulated solely for the good of the young or larva, will, it may\nsafely be concluded, affect the structure of the adult; in the same\nmanner as any malconformation affecting the early embryo, seriously\naffects the whole organisation of the adult. The several parts of the\nbody which are homologous, and which, at an early embryonic period, are\nalike, seem liable to vary in an allied manner: we see this in the right\nand left sides of the body varying in the same manner; in the front and\nhind legs, and even in the jaws and limbs, varying together, for the\nlower jaw is believed to be homologous with the limbs. These tendencies,\nI do not doubt, may be mastered more or less completely by natural\nselection: thus a family of stags once existed with an antler only on\none side; and if this had been of any great use to the breed it might\nprobably have been rendered permanent by natural selection.\n\nHomologous parts, as has been remarked by some authors, tend to cohere;\nthis is often seen in monstrous plants; and nothing is more common than\nthe union of homologous parts in normal structures, as the union of the\npetals of the corolla into a tube. Hard parts seem to affect the form of\nadjoining soft parts; it is believed by some authors that the diversity\nin the shape of the pelvis in birds causes the remarkable diversity in\nthe shape of their kidneys. Others believe that the shape of the pelvis\nin the human mother influences by pressure the shape of the head of the\nchild. In snakes, according to Schlegel, the shape of the body and\nthe manner of swallowing determine the position of several of the most\nimportant viscera.\n\nThe nature of the bond of correlation is very frequently quite obscure.\nM. Is. Geoffroy St. Hilaire has forcibly remarked, that certain\nmalconformations very frequently, and that others rarely coexist,\nwithout our being able to assign any reason. What can be more singular\nthan the relation between blue eyes and deafness in cats, and the\ntortoise-shell colour with the female sex; the feathered feet and skin\nbetween the outer toes in pigeons, and the presence of more or less down\non the young birds when first hatched, with the future colour of their\nplumage; or, again, the relation between the hair and teeth in the naked\nTurkish dog, though here probably homology comes into play? With respect\nto this latter case of correlation, I think it can hardly be accidental,\nthat if we pick out the two orders of mammalia which are most\nabnormal in their dermal coverings, viz. Cetacea (whales) and Edentata\n(armadilloes, scaly ant-eaters, etc.), that these are likewise the most\nabnormal in their teeth.\n\nI know of no case better adapted to show the importance of the laws of\ncorrelation in modifying important structures, independently of utility\nand, therefore, of natural selection, than that of the difference\nbetween the outer and inner flowers in some Compositous and\nUmbelliferous plants. Every one knows the difference in the ray and\ncentral florets of, for instance, the daisy, and this difference is\noften accompanied with the abortion of parts of the flower. But, in some\nCompositous plants, the seeds also differ in shape and sculpture; and\neven the ovary itself, with its accessory parts, differs, as has been\ndescribed by Cassini. These differences have been attributed by some\nauthors to pressure, and the shape of the seeds in the ray-florets in\nsome Compositae countenances this idea; but, in the case of the corolla\nof the Umbelliferae, it is by no means, as Dr. Hooker informs me, in\nspecies with the densest heads that the inner and outer flowers most\nfrequently differ. It might have been thought that the development of\nthe ray-petals by drawing nourishment from certain other parts of the\nflower had caused their abortion; but in some Compositae there is a\ndifference in the seeds of the outer and inner florets without any\ndifference in the corolla. Possibly, these several differences may be\nconnected with some difference in the flow of nutriment towards the\ncentral and external flowers: we know, at least, that in irregular\nflowers, those nearest to the axis are oftenest subject to peloria, and\nbecome regular. I may add, as an instance of this, and of a striking\ncase of correlation, that I have recently observed in some garden\npelargoniums, that the central flower of the truss often loses the\npatches of darker colour in the two upper petals; and that when this\noccurs, the adherent nectary is quite aborted; when the colour is\nabsent from only one of the two upper petals, the nectary is only much\nshortened.\n\nWith respect to the difference in the corolla of the central and\nexterior flowers of a head or umbel, I do not feel at all sure that C.\nC. Sprengel's idea that the ray-florets serve to attract insects, whose\nagency is highly advantageous in the fertilisation of plants of these\ntwo orders, is so far-fetched, as it may at first appear: and if it be\nadvantageous, natural selection may have come into play. But in regard\nto the differences both in the internal and external structure of the\nseeds, which are not always correlated with any differences in the\nflowers, it seems impossible that they can be in any way advantageous\nto the plant: yet in the Umbelliferae these differences are of such\napparent importance--the seeds being in some cases, according to Tausch,\northospermous in the exterior flowers and coelospermous in the central\nflowers,--that the elder De Candolle founded his main divisions of\nthe order on analogous differences. Hence we see that modifications of\nstructure, viewed by systematists as of high value, may be wholly due to\nunknown laws of correlated growth, and without being, as far as we can\nsee, of the slightest service to the species.\n\nWe may often falsely attribute to correlation of growth, structures\nwhich are common to whole groups of species, and which in truth are\nsimply due to inheritance; for an ancient progenitor may have acquired\nthrough natural selection some one modification in structure, and, after\nthousands of generations, some other and independent modification; and\nthese two modifications, having been transmitted to a whole group\nof descendants with diverse habits, would naturally be thought to be\ncorrelated in some necessary manner. So, again, I do not doubt that some\napparent correlations, occurring throughout whole orders, are entirely\ndue to the manner alone in which natural selection can act. For\ninstance, Alph. De Candolle has remarked that winged seeds are never\nfound in fruits which do not open: I should explain the rule by the fact\nthat seeds could not gradually become winged through natural selection,\nexcept in fruits which opened; so that the individual plants producing\nseeds which were a little better fitted to be wafted further, might get\nan advantage over those producing seed less fitted for dispersal; and\nthis process could not possibly go on in fruit which did not open.\n\nThe elder Geoffroy and Goethe propounded, at about the same period,\ntheir law of compensation or balancement of growth; or, as Goethe\nexpressed it, \"in order to spend on one side, nature is forced to\neconomise on the other side.\" I think this holds true to a certain\nextent with our domestic productions: if nourishment flows to one part\nor organ in excess, it rarely flows, at least in excess, to another\npart; thus it is difficult to get a cow to give much milk and to fatten\nreadily. The same varieties of the cabbage do not yield abundant and\nnutritious foliage and a copious supply of oil-bearing seeds. When the\nseeds in our fruits become atrophied, the fruit itself gains largely in\nsize and quality. In our poultry, a large tuft of feathers on the head\nis generally accompanied by a diminished comb, and a large beard by\ndiminished wattles. With species in a state of nature it can hardly\nbe maintained that the law is of universal application; but many good\nobservers, more especially botanists, believe in its truth. I will\nnot, however, here give any instances, for I see hardly any way of\ndistinguishing between the effects, on the one hand, of a part being\nlargely developed through natural selection and another and adjoining\npart being reduced by this same process or by disuse, and, on the other\nhand, the actual withdrawal of nutriment from one part owing to the\nexcess of growth in another and adjoining part.\n\nI suspect, also, that some of the cases of compensation which have been\nadvanced, and likewise some other facts, may be merged under a more\ngeneral principle, namely, that natural selection is continually\ntrying to economise in every part of the organisation. If under changed\nconditions of life a structure before useful becomes less useful, any\ndiminution, however slight, in its development, will be seized on by\nnatural selection, for it will profit the individual not to have its\nnutriment wasted in building up an useless structure. I can thus\nonly understand a fact with which I was much struck when examining\ncirripedes, and of which many other instances could be given: namely,\nthat when a cirripede is parasitic within another and is thus protected,\nit loses more or less completely its own shell or carapace. This is the\ncase with the male Ibla, and in a truly extraordinary manner with the\nProteolepas: for the carapace in all other cirripedes consists of\nthe three highly-important anterior segments of the head enormously\ndeveloped, and furnished with great nerves and muscles; but in the\nparasitic and protected Proteolepas, the whole anterior part of the\nhead is reduced to the merest rudiment attached to the bases of the\nprehensile antennae. Now the saving of a large and complex structure,\nwhen rendered superfluous by the parasitic habits of the Proteolepas,\nthough effected by slow steps, would be a decided advantage to each\nsuccessive individual of the species; for in the struggle for life to\nwhich every animal is exposed, each individual Proteolepas would have\na better chance of supporting itself, by less nutriment being wasted in\ndeveloping a structure now become useless.\n\nThus, as I believe, natural selection will always succeed in the long\nrun in reducing and saving every part of the organisation, as soon as it\nis rendered superfluous, without by any means causing some other part\nto be largely developed in a corresponding degree. And, conversely, that\nnatural selection may perfectly well succeed in largely developing any\norgan, without requiring as a necessary compensation the reduction of\nsome adjoining part.\n\nIt seems to be a rule, as remarked by Is. Geoffroy St. Hilaire, both in\nvarieties and in species, that when any part or organ is repeated many\ntimes in the structure of the same individual (as the vertebrae in\nsnakes, and the stamens in polyandrous flowers) the number is variable;\nwhereas the number of the same part or organ, when it occurs in lesser\nnumbers, is constant. The same author and some botanists have further\nremarked that multiple parts are also very liable to variation in\nstructure. Inasmuch as this \"vegetative repetition,\" to use Professor\nOwen's expression, seems to be a sign of low organisation; the foregoing\nremark seems connected with the very general opinion of naturalists,\nthat beings low in the scale of nature are more variable than those\nwhich are higher. I presume that lowness in this case means that the\nseveral parts of the organisation have been but little specialised\nfor particular functions; and as long as the same part has to perform\ndiversified work, we can perhaps see why it should remain variable, that\nis, why natural selection should have preserved or rejected each little\ndeviation of form less carefully than when the part has to serve for one\nspecial purpose alone. In the same way that a knife which has to cut\nall sorts of things may be of almost any shape; whilst a tool for\nsome particular object had better be of some particular shape. Natural\nselection, it should never be forgotten, can act on each part of each\nbeing, solely through and for its advantage.\n\nRudimentary parts, it has been stated by some authors, and I believe\nwith truth, are apt to be highly variable. We shall have to recur to the\ngeneral subject of rudimentary and aborted organs; and I will here only\nadd that their variability seems to be owing to their uselessness, and\ntherefore to natural selection having no power to check deviations in\ntheir structure. Thus rudimentary parts are left to the free play of the\nvarious laws of growth, to the effects of long-continued disuse, and to\nthe tendency to reversion.\n\nA PART DEVELOPED IN ANY SPECIES IN AN EXTRAORDINARY DEGREE OR MANNER,\nIN COMPARISON WITH THE SAME PART IN ALLIED SPECIES, TENDS TO BE HIGHLY\nVARIABLE.\n\nSeveral years ago I was much struck with a remark, nearly to the above\neffect, published by Mr. Waterhouse. I infer also from an observation\nmade by Professor Owen, with respect to the length of the arms of the\nourang-outang, that he has come to a nearly similar conclusion. It is\nhopeless to attempt to convince any one of the truth of this proposition\nwithout giving the long array of facts which I have collected, and which\ncannot possibly be here introduced. I can only state my conviction that\nit is a rule of high generality. I am aware of several causes of\nerror, but I hope that I have made due allowance for them. It should\nbe understood that the rule by no means applies to any part, however\nunusually developed, unless it be unusually developed in comparison with\nthe same part in closely allied species. Thus, the bat's wing is a most\nabnormal structure in the class mammalia; but the rule would not here\napply, because there is a whole group of bats having wings; it would\napply only if some one species of bat had its wings developed in some\nremarkable manner in comparison with the other species of the same\ngenus. The rule applies very strongly in the case of secondary sexual\ncharacters, when displayed in any unusual manner. The term, secondary\nsexual characters, used by Hunter, applies to characters which are\nattached to one sex, but are not directly connected with the act of\nreproduction. The rule applies to males and females; but as females more\nrarely offer remarkable secondary sexual characters, it applies more\nrarely to them. The rule being so plainly applicable in the case of\nsecondary sexual characters, may be due to the great variability of\nthese characters, whether or not displayed in any unusual manner--of\nwhich fact I think there can be little doubt. But that our rule is not\nconfined to secondary sexual characters is clearly shown in the case\nof hermaphrodite cirripedes; and I may here add, that I particularly\nattended to Mr. Waterhouse's remark, whilst investigating this Order,\nand I am fully convinced that the rule almost invariably holds good\nwith cirripedes. I shall, in my future work, give a list of the more\nremarkable cases; I will here only briefly give one, as it illustrates\nthe rule in its largest application. The opercular valves of sessile\ncirripedes (rock barnacles) are, in every sense of the word, very\nimportant structures, and they differ extremely little even in different\ngenera; but in the several species of one genus, Pyrgoma, these valves\npresent a marvellous amount of diversification: the homologous valves\nin the different species being sometimes wholly unlike in shape; and the\namount of variation in the individuals of several of the species is so\ngreat, that it is no exaggeration to state that the varieties differ\nmore from each other in the characters of these important valves than do\nother species of distinct genera.\n\nAs birds within the same country vary in a remarkably small degree, I\nhave particularly attended to them, and the rule seems to me certainly\nto hold good in this class. I cannot make out that it applies to plants,\nand this would seriously have shaken my belief in its truth, had not the\ngreat variability in plants made it particularly difficult to compare\ntheir relative degrees of variability.\n\nWhen we see any part or organ developed in a remarkable degree or manner\nin any species, the fair presumption is that it is of high importance to\nthat species; nevertheless the part in this case is eminently liable to\nvariation. Why should this be so? On the view that each species has been\nindependently created, with all its parts as we now see them, I can see\nno explanation. But on the view that groups of species have descended\nfrom other species, and have been modified through natural selection, I\nthink we can obtain some light. In our domestic animals, if any part,\nor the whole animal, be neglected and no selection be applied, that part\n(for instance, the comb in the Dorking fowl) or the whole breed will\ncease to have a nearly uniform character. The breed will then be said\nto have degenerated. In rudimentary organs, and in those which have\nbeen but little specialised for any particular purpose, and perhaps in\npolymorphic groups, we see a nearly parallel natural case; for in such\ncases natural selection either has not or cannot come into full play,\nand thus the organisation is left in a fluctuating condition. But what\nhere more especially concerns us is, that in our domestic animals\nthose points, which at the present time are undergoing rapid change by\ncontinued selection, are also eminently liable to variation. Look at the\nbreeds of the pigeon; see what a prodigious amount of difference there\nis in the beak of the different tumblers, in the beak and wattle of\nthe different carriers, in the carriage and tail of our fantails, etc.,\nthese being the points now mainly attended to by English fanciers. Even\nin the sub-breeds, as in the short-faced tumbler, it is notoriously\ndifficult to breed them nearly to perfection, and frequently individuals\nare born which depart widely from the standard. There may be truly\nsaid to be a constant struggle going on between, on the one hand, the\ntendency to reversion to a less modified state, as well as an innate\ntendency to further variability of all kinds, and, on the other hand,\nthe power of steady selection to keep the breed true. In the long run\nselection gains the day, and we do not expect to fail so far as to breed\na bird as coarse as a common tumbler from a good short-faced strain. But\nas long as selection is rapidly going on, there may always be expected\nto be much variability in the structure undergoing modification. It\nfurther deserves notice that these variable characters, produced by\nman's selection, sometimes become attached, from causes quite unknown\nto us, more to one sex than to the other, generally to the male sex, as\nwith the wattle of carriers and the enlarged crop of pouters.\n\nNow let us turn to nature. When a part has been developed in an\nextraordinary manner in any one species, compared with the other species\nof the same genus, we may conclude that this part has undergone an\nextraordinary amount of modification, since the period when the species\nbranched off from the common progenitor of the genus. This period will\nseldom be remote in any extreme degree, as species very rarely endure\nfor more than one geological period. An extraordinary amount of\nmodification implies an unusually large and long-continued amount of\nvariability, which has continually been accumulated by natural\nselection for the benefit of the species. But as the variability of\nthe extraordinarily-developed part or organ has been so great and\nlong-continued within a period not excessively remote, we might, as a\ngeneral rule, expect still to find more variability in such parts than\nin other parts of the organisation, which have remained for a much\nlonger period nearly constant. And this, I am convinced, is the case.\nThat the struggle between natural selection on the one hand, and the\ntendency to reversion and variability on the other hand, will in the\ncourse of time cease; and that the most abnormally developed organs may\nbe made constant, I can see no reason to doubt. Hence when an organ,\nhowever abnormal it may be, has been transmitted in approximately the\nsame condition to many modified descendants, as in the case of the wing\nof the bat, it must have existed, according to my theory, for an\nimmense period in nearly the same state; and thus it comes to be no more\nvariable than any other structure. It is only in those cases in which\nthe modification has been comparatively recent and extraordinarily great\nthat we ought to find the GENERATIVE VARIABILITY, as it may be called,\nstill present in a high degree. For in this case the variability\nwill seldom as yet have been fixed by the continued selection of the\nindividuals varying in the required manner and degree, and by the\ncontinued rejection of those tending to revert to a former and less\nmodified condition.\n\nThe principle included in these remarks may be extended. It is notorious\nthat specific characters are more variable than generic. To explain by a\nsimple example what is meant. If some species in a large genus of plants\nhad blue flowers and some had red, the colour would be only a specific\ncharacter, and no one would be surprised at one of the blue species\nvarying into red, or conversely; but if all the species had blue\nflowers, the colour would become a generic character, and its variation\nwould be a more unusual circumstance. I have chosen this example because\nan explanation is not in this case applicable, which most naturalists\nwould advance, namely, that specific characters are more variable\nthan generic, because they are taken from parts of less physiological\nimportance than those commonly used for classing genera. I believe this\nexplanation is partly, yet only indirectly, true; I shall, however, have\nto return to this subject in our chapter on Classification. It would be\nalmost superfluous to adduce evidence in support of the above statement,\nthat specific characters are more variable than generic; but I have\nrepeatedly noticed in works on natural history, that when an author\nhas remarked with surprise that some IMPORTANT organ or part, which is\ngenerally very constant throughout large groups of species, has DIFFERED\nconsiderably in closely-allied species, that it has, also, been VARIABLE\nin the individuals of some of the species. And this fact shows that a\ncharacter, which is generally of generic value, when it sinks in value\nand becomes only of specific value, often becomes variable, though its\nphysiological importance may remain the same. Something of the same kind\napplies to monstrosities: at least Is. Geoffroy St. Hilaire seems to\nentertain no doubt, that the more an organ normally differs in\nthe different species of the same group, the more subject it is to\nindividual anomalies.\n\nOn the ordinary view of each species having been independently created,\nwhy should that part of the structure, which differs from the same\npart in other independently-created species of the same genus, be\nmore variable than those parts which are closely alike in the several\nspecies? I do not see that any explanation can be given. But on the\nview of species being only strongly marked and fixed varieties, we might\nsurely expect to find them still often continuing to vary in those parts\nof their structure which have varied within a moderately recent period,\nand which have thus come to differ. Or to state the case in another\nmanner:--the points in which all the species of a genus resemble each\nother, and in which they differ from the species of some other genus,\nare called generic characters; and these characters in common I\nattribute to inheritance from a common progenitor, for it can rarely\nhave happened that natural selection will have modified several species,\nfitted to more or less widely-different habits, in exactly the same\nmanner: and as these so-called generic characters have been inherited\nfrom a remote period, since that period when the species first branched\noff from their common progenitor, and subsequently have not varied or\ncome to differ in any degree, or only in a slight degree, it is not\nprobable that they should vary at the present day. On the other hand,\nthe points in which species differ from other species of the same genus,\nare called specific characters; and as these specific characters have\nvaried and come to differ within the period of the branching off of the\nspecies from a common progenitor, it is probable that they should still\noften be in some degree variable,--at least more variable than those\nparts of the organisation which have for a very long period remained\nconstant.\n\nIn connexion with the present subject, I will make only two other\nremarks. I think it will be admitted, without my entering on details,\nthat secondary sexual characters are very variable; I think it also will\nbe admitted that species of the same group differ from each other more\nwidely in their secondary sexual characters, than in other parts of\ntheir organisation; compare, for instance, the amount of difference\nbetween the males of gallinaceous birds, in which secondary sexual\ncharacters are strongly displayed, with the amount of difference between\ntheir females; and the truth of this proposition will be granted. The\ncause of the original variability of secondary sexual characters is\nnot manifest; but we can see why these characters should not have been\nrendered as constant and uniform as other parts of the organisation; for\nsecondary sexual characters have been accumulated by sexual selection,\nwhich is less rigid in its action than ordinary selection, as it does\nnot entail death, but only gives fewer offspring to the less favoured\nmales. Whatever the cause may be of the variability of secondary sexual\ncharacters, as they are highly variable, sexual selection will have had\na wide scope for action, and may thus readily have succeeded in giving\nto the species of the same group a greater amount of difference in their\nsexual characters, than in other parts of their structure.\n\nIt is a remarkable fact, that the secondary sexual differences between\nthe two sexes of the same species are generally displayed in the very\nsame parts of the organisation in which the different species of\nthe same genus differ from each other. Of this fact I will give in\nillustration two instances, the first which happen to stand on my list;\nand as the differences in these cases are of a very unusual nature,\nthe relation can hardly be accidental. The same number of joints in the\ntarsi is a character generally common to very large groups of beetles,\nbut in the Engidae, as Westwood has remarked, the number varies greatly;\nand the number likewise differs in the two sexes of the same species:\nagain in fossorial hymenoptera, the manner of neuration of the wings is\na character of the highest importance, because common to large groups;\nbut in certain genera the neuration differs in the different species,\nand likewise in the two sexes of the same species. This relation has a\nclear meaning on my view of the subject: I look at all the species\nof the same genus as having as certainly descended from the same\nprogenitor, as have the two sexes of any one of the species.\nConsequently, whatever part of the structure of the common progenitor,\nor of its early descendants, became variable; variations of this part\nwould it is highly probable, be taken advantage of by natural and sexual\nselection, in order to fit the several species to their several places\nin the economy of nature, and likewise to fit the two sexes of the same\nspecies to each other, or to fit the males and females to different\nhabits of life, or the males to struggle with other males for the\npossession of the females.\n\nFinally, then, I conclude that the greater variability of specific\ncharacters, or those which distinguish species from species, than of\ngeneric characters, or those which the species possess in common;--that\nthe frequent extreme variability of any part which is developed in a\nspecies in an extraordinary manner in comparison with the same part\nin its congeners; and the not great degree of variability in a part,\nhowever extraordinarily it may be developed, if it be common to a\nwhole group of species;--that the great variability of secondary sexual\ncharacters, and the great amount of difference in these same characters\nbetween closely allied species;--that secondary sexual and ordinary\nspecific differences are generally displayed in the same parts of the\norganisation,--are all principles closely connected together. All being\nmainly due to the species of the same group having descended from a\ncommon progenitor, from whom they have inherited much in common,--to\nparts which have recently and largely varied being more likely still\nto go on varying than parts which have long been inherited and have not\nvaried,--to natural selection having more or less completely, according\nto the lapse of time, overmastered the tendency to reversion and to\nfurther variability,--to sexual selection being less rigid than ordinary\nselection,--and to variations in the same parts having been accumulated\nby natural and sexual selection, and thus adapted for secondary sexual,\nand for ordinary specific purposes.\n\nDISTINCT SPECIES PRESENT ANALOGOUS VARIATIONS; AND A VARIETY OF ONE\nSPECIES OFTEN ASSUMES SOME OF THE CHARACTERS OF AN ALLIED SPECIES, OR\nREVERTS TO SOME OF THE CHARACTERS OF AN EARLY PROGENITOR.\n\nThese propositions will be most readily understood by looking to our\ndomestic races. The most distinct breeds of pigeons, in countries most\nwidely apart, present sub-varieties with reversed feathers on the head\nand feathers on the feet,--characters not possessed by the aboriginal\nrock-pigeon; these then are analogous variations in two or more distinct\nraces. The frequent presence of fourteen or even sixteen tail-feathers\nin the pouter, may be considered as a variation representing the normal\nstructure of another race, the fantail. I presume that no one will doubt\nthat all such analogous variations are due to the several races of the\npigeon having inherited from a common parent the same constitution and\ntendency to variation, when acted on by similar unknown influences.\nIn the vegetable kingdom we have a case of analogous variation, in the\nenlarged stems, or roots as commonly called, of the Swedish turnip and\nRuta baga, plants which several botanists rank as varieties produced by\ncultivation from a common parent: if this be not so, the case will then\nbe one of analogous variation in two so-called distinct species; and to\nthese a third may be added, namely, the common turnip. According to\nthe ordinary view of each species having been independently created, we\nshould have to attribute this similarity in the enlarged stems of these\nthree plants, not to the vera causa of community of descent, and a\nconsequent tendency to vary in a like manner, but to three separate yet\nclosely related acts of creation.\n\nWith pigeons, however, we have another case, namely, the occasional\nappearance in all the breeds, of slaty-blue birds with two black bars\non the wings, a white rump, a bar at the end of the tail, with the outer\nfeathers externally edged near their bases with white. As all these\nmarks are characteristic of the parent rock-pigeon, I presume that no\none will doubt that this is a case of reversion, and not of a new yet\nanalogous variation appearing in the several breeds. We may I think\nconfidently come to this conclusion, because, as we have seen, these\ncoloured marks are eminently liable to appear in the crossed offspring\nof two distinct and differently coloured breeds; and in this case there\nis nothing in the external conditions of life to cause the reappearance\nof the slaty-blue, with the several marks, beyond the influence of the\nmere act of crossing on the laws of inheritance.\n\nNo doubt it is a very surprising fact that characters should reappear\nafter having been lost for many, perhaps for hundreds of generations.\nBut when a breed has been crossed only once by some other breed, the\noffspring occasionally show a tendency to revert in character to the\nforeign breed for many generations--some say, for a dozen or even a\nscore of generations. After twelve generations, the proportion of blood,\nto use a common expression, of any one ancestor, is only 1 in 2048; and\nyet, as we see, it is generally believed that a tendency to reversion\nis retained by this very small proportion of foreign blood. In a breed\nwhich has not been crossed, but in which BOTH parents have lost some\ncharacter which their progenitor possessed, the tendency, whether strong\nor weak, to reproduce the lost character might be, as was formerly\nremarked, for all that we can see to the contrary, transmitted for\nalmost any number of generations. When a character which has been lost\nin a breed, reappears after a great number of generations, the most\nprobable hypothesis is, not that the offspring suddenly takes after an\nancestor some hundred generations distant, but that in each successive\ngeneration there has been a tendency to reproduce the character in\nquestion, which at last, under unknown favourable conditions, gains an\nascendancy. For instance, it is probable that in each generation of the\nbarb-pigeon, which produces most rarely a blue and black-barred bird,\nthere has been a tendency in each generation in the plumage to assume\nthis colour. This view is hypothetical, but could be supported by some\nfacts; and I can see no more abstract improbability in a tendency\nto produce any character being inherited for an endless number of\ngenerations, than in quite useless or rudimentary organs being, as we\nall know them to be, thus inherited. Indeed, we may sometimes observe\na mere tendency to produce a rudiment inherited: for instance, in the\ncommon snapdragon (Antirrhinum) a rudiment of a fifth stamen so often\nappears, that this plant must have an inherited tendency to produce it.\n\nAs all the species of the same genus are supposed, on my theory, to have\ndescended from a common parent, it might be expected that they would\noccasionally vary in an analogous manner; so that a variety of one\nspecies would resemble in some of its characters another species; this\nother species being on my view only a well-marked and permanent variety.\nBut characters thus gained would probably be of an unimportant nature,\nfor the presence of all important characters will be governed by natural\nselection, in accordance with the diverse habits of the species, and\nwill not be left to the mutual action of the conditions of life and of\na similar inherited constitution. It might further be expected that the\nspecies of the same genus would occasionally exhibit reversions to lost\nancestral characters. As, however, we never know the exact character\nof the common ancestor of a group, we could not distinguish these two\ncases: if, for instance, we did not know that the rock-pigeon was not\nfeather-footed or turn-crowned, we could not have told, whether these\ncharacters in our domestic breeds were reversions or only analogous\nvariations; but we might have inferred that the blueness was a case of\nreversion, from the number of the markings, which are correlated with\nthe blue tint, and which it does not appear probable would all appear\ntogether from simple variation. More especially we might have inferred\nthis, from the blue colour and marks so often appearing when distinct\nbreeds of diverse colours are crossed. Hence, though under nature\nit must generally be left doubtful, what cases are reversions to an\nanciently existing character, and what are new but analogous variations,\nyet we ought, on my theory, sometimes to find the varying offspring of\na species assuming characters (either from reversion or from analogous\nvariation) which already occur in some other members of the same group.\nAnd this undoubtedly is the case in nature.\n\nA considerable part of the difficulty in recognising a variable species\nin our systematic works, is due to its varieties mocking, as it were,\nsome of the other species of the same genus. A considerable catalogue,\nalso, could be given of forms intermediate between two other forms,\nwhich themselves must be doubtfully ranked as either varieties or\nspecies; and this shows, unless all these forms be considered as\nindependently created species, that the one in varying has assumed some\nof the characters of the other, so as to produce the intermediate form.\nBut the best evidence is afforded by parts or organs of an important and\nuniform nature occasionally varying so as to acquire, in some degree,\nthe character of the same part or organ in an allied species. I have\ncollected a long list of such cases; but here, as before, I lie under\na great disadvantage in not being able to give them. I can only repeat\nthat such cases certainly do occur, and seem to me very remarkable.\n\nI will, however, give one curious and complex case, not indeed as\naffecting any important character, but from occurring in several species\nof the same genus, partly under domestication and partly under nature.\nIt is a case apparently of reversion. The ass not rarely has very\ndistinct transverse bars on its legs, like those on the legs of a zebra:\nit has been asserted that these are plainest in the foal, and from\ninquiries which I have made, I believe this to be true. It has also\nbeen asserted that the stripe on each shoulder is sometimes double.\nThe shoulder stripe is certainly very variable in length and outline. A\nwhite ass, but NOT an albino, has been described without either spinal\nor shoulder-stripe; and these stripes are sometimes very obscure, or\nactually quite lost, in dark-coloured asses. The koulan of Pallas is\nsaid to have been seen with a double shoulder-stripe. The hemionus has\nno shoulder-stripe; but traces of it, as stated by Mr. Blyth and others,\noccasionally appear: and I have been informed by Colonel Poole that the\nfoals of this species are generally striped on the legs, and faintly on\nthe shoulder. The quagga, though so plainly barred like a zebra over the\nbody, is without bars on the legs; but Dr. Gray has figured one specimen\nwith very distinct zebra-like bars on the hocks.\n\nWith respect to the horse, I have collected cases in England of the\nspinal stripe in horses of the most distinct breeds, and of ALL colours;\ntransverse bars on the legs are not rare in duns, mouse-duns, and in one\ninstance in a chestnut: a faint shoulder-stripe may sometimes be seen\nin duns, and I have seen a trace in a bay horse. My son made a careful\nexamination and sketch for me of a dun Belgian cart-horse with a double\nstripe on each shoulder and with leg-stripes; and a man, whom I can\nimplicitly trust, has examined for me a small dun Welch pony with THREE\nshort parallel stripes on each shoulder.\n\nIn the north-west part of India the Kattywar breed of horses is so\ngenerally striped, that, as I hear from Colonel Poole, who examined\nthe breed for the Indian Government, a horse without stripes is not\nconsidered as purely-bred. The spine is always striped; the legs are\ngenerally barred; and the shoulder-stripe, which is sometimes double\nand sometimes treble, is common; the side of the face, moreover, is\nsometimes striped. The stripes are plainest in the foal; and sometimes\nquite disappear in old horses. Colonel Poole has seen both gray and\nbay Kattywar horses striped when first foaled. I have, also, reason to\nsuspect, from information given me by Mr. W. W. Edwards, that with the\nEnglish race-horse the spinal stripe is much commoner in the foal than\nin the full-grown animal. Without here entering on further details, I\nmay state that I have collected cases of leg and shoulder stripes in\nhorses of very different breeds, in various countries from Britain to\nEastern China; and from Norway in the north to the Malay Archipelago in\nthe south. In all parts of the world these stripes occur far oftenest\nin duns and mouse-duns; by the term dun a large range of colour is\nincluded, from one between brown and black to a close approach to\ncream-colour.\n\nI am aware that Colonel Hamilton Smith, who has written on this subject,\nbelieves that the several breeds of the horse have descended from\nseveral aboriginal species--one of which, the dun, was striped; and that\nthe above-described appearances are all due to ancient crosses with the\ndun stock. But I am not at all satisfied with this theory, and should be\nloth to apply it to breeds so distinct as the heavy Belgian cart-horse,\nWelch ponies, cobs, the lanky Kattywar race, etc., inhabiting the most\ndistant parts of the world.\n\nNow let us turn to the effects of crossing the several species of the\nhorse-genus. Rollin asserts, that the common mule from the ass and horse\nis particularly apt to have bars on its legs. I once saw a mule with its\nlegs so much striped that any one at first would have thought that it\nmust have been the product of a zebra; and Mr. W. C. Martin, in his\nexcellent treatise on the horse, has given a figure of a similar mule.\nIn four coloured drawings, which I have seen, of hybrids between the ass\nand zebra, the legs were much more plainly barred than the rest of the\nbody; and in one of them there was a double shoulder-stripe. In Lord\nMoreton's famous hybrid from a chestnut mare and male quagga, the\nhybrid, and even the pure offspring subsequently produced from the mare\nby a black Arabian sire, were much more plainly barred across the\nlegs than is even the pure quagga. Lastly, and this is another most\nremarkable case, a hybrid has been figured by Dr. Gray (and he informs\nme that he knows of a second case) from the ass and the hemionus; and\nthis hybrid, though the ass seldom has stripes on its legs and the\nhemionus has none and has not even a shoulder-stripe, nevertheless had\nall four legs barred, and had three short shoulder-stripes, like those\non the dun Welch pony, and even had some zebra-like stripes on the sides\nof its face. With respect to this last fact, I was so convinced that not\neven a stripe of colour appears from what would commonly be called an\naccident, that I was led solely from the occurrence of the face-stripes\non this hybrid from the ass and hemionus, to ask Colonel Poole whether\nsuch face-stripes ever occur in the eminently striped Kattywar breed of\nhorses, and was, as we have seen, answered in the affirmative.\n\nWhat now are we to say to these several facts? We see several very\ndistinct species of the horse-genus becoming, by simple variation,\nstriped on the legs like a zebra, or striped on the shoulders like\nan ass. In the horse we see this tendency strong whenever a dun tint\nappears--a tint which approaches to that of the general colouring of\nthe other species of the genus. The appearance of the stripes is not\naccompanied by any change of form or by any other new character. We see\nthis tendency to become striped most strongly displayed in hybrids from\nbetween several of the most distinct species. Now observe the case\nof the several breeds of pigeons: they are descended from a pigeon\n(including two or three sub-species or geographical races) of a bluish\ncolour, with certain bars and other marks; and when any breed assumes\nby simple variation a bluish tint, these bars and other marks invariably\nreappear; but without any other change of form or character. When the\noldest and truest breeds of various colours are crossed, we see a\nstrong tendency for the blue tint and bars and marks to reappear in the\nmongrels. I have stated that the most probable hypothesis to account\nfor the reappearance of very ancient characters, is--that there is\na TENDENCY in the young of each successive generation to produce the\nlong-lost character, and that this tendency, from unknown causes,\nsometimes prevails. And we have just seen that in several species of the\nhorse-genus the stripes are either plainer or appear more commonly in\nthe young than in the old. Call the breeds of pigeons, some of which\nhave bred true for centuries, species; and how exactly parallel is the\ncase with that of the species of the horse-genus! For myself, I venture\nconfidently to look back thousands on thousands of generations, and\nI see an animal striped like a zebra, but perhaps otherwise very\ndifferently constructed, the common parent of our domestic horse,\nwhether or not it be descended from one or more wild stocks, of the ass,\nthe hemionus, quagga, and zebra.\n\nHe who believes that each equine species was independently created,\nwill, I presume, assert that each species has been created with a\ntendency to vary, both under nature and under domestication, in this\nparticular manner, so as often to become striped like other species of\nthe genus; and that each has been created with a strong tendency,\nwhen crossed with species inhabiting distant quarters of the world, to\nproduce hybrids resembling in their stripes, not their own parents, but\nother species of the genus. To admit this view is, as it seems to me, to\nreject a real for an unreal, or at least for an unknown, cause. It makes\nthe works of God a mere mockery and deception; I would almost as soon\nbelieve with the old and ignorant cosmogonists, that fossil shells had\nnever lived, but had been created in stone so as to mock the shells now\nliving on the sea-shore.\n\nSUMMARY.\n\nOur ignorance of the laws of variation is profound. Not in one case out\nof a hundred can we pretend to assign any reason why this or that part\ndiffers, more or less, from the same part in the parents. But whenever\nwe have the means of instituting a comparison, the same laws appear to\nhave acted in producing the lesser differences between varieties of the\nsame species, and the greater differences between species of the same\ngenus. The external conditions of life, as climate and food, etc.,\nseem to have induced some slight modifications. Habit in producing\nconstitutional differences, and use in strengthening, and disuse in\nweakening and diminishing organs, seem to have been more potent in their\neffects. Homologous parts tend to vary in the same way, and homologous\nparts tend to cohere. Modifications in hard parts and in external parts\nsometimes affect softer and internal parts. When one part is largely\ndeveloped, perhaps it tends to draw nourishment from the adjoining\nparts; and every part of the structure which can be saved without\ndetriment to the individual, will be saved. Changes of structure at an\nearly age will generally affect parts subsequently developed; and there\nare very many other correlations of growth, the nature of which we are\nutterly unable to understand. Multiple parts are variable in number and\nin structure, perhaps arising from such parts not having been closely\nspecialised to any particular function, so that their modifications have\nnot been closely checked by natural selection. It is probably from\nthis same cause that organic beings low in the scale of nature are\nmore variable than those which have their whole organisation more\nspecialised, and are higher in the scale. Rudimentary organs, from being\nuseless, will be disregarded by natural selection, and hence probably\nare variable. Specific characters--that is, the characters which have\ncome to differ since the several species of the same genus branched\noff from a common parent--are more variable than generic characters, or\nthose which have long been inherited, and have not differed within\nthis same period. In these remarks we have referred to special parts or\norgans being still variable, because they have recently varied and thus\ncome to differ; but we have also seen in the second Chapter that the\nsame principle applies to the whole individual; for in a district where\nmany species of any genus are found--that is, where there has been much\nformer variation and differentiation, or where the manufactory of new\nspecific forms has been actively at work--there, on an average, we now\nfind most varieties or incipient species. Secondary sexual characters\nare highly variable, and such characters differ much in the species of\nthe same group. Variability in the same parts of the organisation has\ngenerally been taken advantage of in giving secondary sexual differences\nto the sexes of the same species, and specific differences to the\nseveral species of the same genus. Any part or organ developed to an\nextraordinary size or in an extraordinary manner, in comparison with\nthe same part or organ in the allied species, must have gone through an\nextraordinary amount of modification since the genus arose; and thus we\ncan understand why it should often still be variable in a much higher\ndegree than other parts; for variation is a long-continued and slow\nprocess, and natural selection will in such cases not as yet have had\ntime to overcome the tendency to further variability and to\nreversion to a less modified state. But when a species with any\nextraordinarily-developed organ has become the parent of many modified\ndescendants--which on my view must be a very slow process, requiring\na long lapse of time--in this case, natural selection may readily\nhave succeeded in giving a fixed character to the organ, in however\nextraordinary a manner it may be developed. Species inheriting nearly\nthe same constitution from a common parent and exposed to similar\ninfluences will naturally tend to present analogous variations, and\nthese same species may occasionally revert to some of the characters of\ntheir ancient progenitors. Although new and important modifications may\nnot arise from reversion and analogous variation, such modifications\nwill add to the beautiful and harmonious diversity of nature.\n\nWhatever the cause may be of each slight difference in the offspring\nfrom their parents--and a cause for each must exist--it is the steady\naccumulation, through natural selection, of such differences, when\nbeneficial to the individual, that gives rise to all the more important\nmodifications of structure, by which the innumerable beings on the face\nof this earth are enabled to struggle with each other, and the best\nadapted to survive.\n\n\n\n\n6. DIFFICULTIES ON THEORY.\n\nDifficulties on the theory of descent with modification. Transitions.\nAbsence or rarity of transitional varieties. Transitions in habits of\nlife. Diversified habits in the same species. Species with habits widely\ndifferent from those of their allies. Organs of extreme perfection.\nMeans of transition. Cases of difficulty. Natura non facit saltum.\nOrgans of small importance. Organs not in all cases absolutely perfect.\nThe law of Unity of Type and of the Conditions of Existence embraced by\nthe theory of Natural Selection.\n\nLong before having arrived at this part of my work, a crowd of\ndifficulties will have occurred to the reader. Some of them are so grave\nthat to this day I can never reflect on them without being staggered;\nbut, to the best of my judgment, the greater number are only apparent,\nand those that are real are not, I think, fatal to my theory.\n\nThese difficulties and objections may be classed under the following\nheads:--\n\nFirstly, why, if species have descended from other species by insensibly\nfine gradations, do we not everywhere see innumerable transitional\nforms? Why is not all nature in confusion instead of the species being,\nas we see them, well defined?\n\nSecondly, is it possible that an animal having, for instance,\nthe structure and habits of a bat, could have been formed by the\nmodification of some animal with wholly different habits? Can we\nbelieve that natural selection could produce, on the one hand, organs\nof trifling importance, such as the tail of a giraffe, which serves as a\nfly-flapper, and, on the other hand, organs of such wonderful structure,\nas the eye, of which we hardly as yet fully understand the inimitable\nperfection?\n\nThirdly, can instincts be acquired and modified through natural\nselection? What shall we say to so marvellous an instinct as that which\nleads the bee to make cells, which have practically anticipated the\ndiscoveries of profound mathematicians?\n\nFourthly, how can we account for species, when crossed, being sterile\nand producing sterile offspring, whereas, when varieties are crossed,\ntheir fertility is unimpaired?\n\nThe two first heads shall be here discussed--Instinct and Hybridism in\nseparate chapters.\n\nON THE ABSENCE OR RARITY OF TRANSITIONAL VARIETIES.\n\nAs natural selection acts solely by the preservation of profitable\nmodifications, each new form will tend in a fully-stocked country to\ntake the place of, and finally to exterminate, its own less improved\nparent or other less-favoured forms with which it comes into\ncompetition. Thus extinction and natural selection will, as we have\nseen, go hand in hand. Hence, if we look at each species as descended\nfrom some other unknown form, both the parent and all the transitional\nvarieties will generally have been exterminated by the very process of\nformation and perfection of the new form.\n\nBut, as by this theory innumerable transitional forms must have existed,\nwhy do we not find them embedded in countless numbers in the crust of\nthe earth? It will be much more convenient to discuss this question in\nthe chapter on the Imperfection of the geological record; and I will\nhere only state that I believe the answer mainly lies in the record\nbeing incomparably less perfect than is generally supposed; the\nimperfection of the record being chiefly due to organic beings not\ninhabiting profound depths of the sea, and to their remains being\nembedded and preserved to a future age only in masses of sediment\nsufficiently thick and extensive to withstand an enormous amount of\nfuture degradation; and such fossiliferous masses can be accumulated\nonly where much sediment is deposited on the shallow bed of the sea,\nwhilst it slowly subsides. These contingencies will concur only rarely,\nand after enormously long intervals. Whilst the bed of the sea\nis stationary or is rising, or when very little sediment is being\ndeposited, there will be blanks in our geological history. The crust of\nthe earth is a vast museum; but the natural collections have been made\nonly at intervals of time immensely remote.\n\nBut it may be urged that when several closely-allied species inhabit\nthe same territory we surely ought to find at the present time many\ntransitional forms. Let us take a simple case: in travelling from north\nto south over a continent, we generally meet at successive intervals\nwith closely allied or representative species, evidently filling nearly\nthe same place in the natural economy of the land. These representative\nspecies often meet and interlock; and as the one becomes rarer and\nrarer, the other becomes more and more frequent, till the one replaces\nthe other. But if we compare these species where they intermingle, they\nare generally as absolutely distinct from each other in every detail of\nstructure as are specimens taken from the metropolis inhabited by each.\nBy my theory these allied species have descended from a common parent;\nand during the process of modification, each has become adapted to\nthe conditions of life of its own region, and has supplanted and\nexterminated its original parent and all the transitional varieties\nbetween its past and present states. Hence we ought not to expect at\nthe present time to meet with numerous transitional varieties in each\nregion, though they must have existed there, and may be embedded\nthere in a fossil condition. But in the intermediate region, having\nintermediate conditions of life, why do we not now find closely-linking\nintermediate varieties? This difficulty for a long time quite confounded\nme. But I think it can be in large part explained.\n\nIn the first place we should be extremely cautious in inferring, because\nan area is now continuous, that it has been continuous during a long\nperiod. Geology would lead us to believe that almost every continent has\nbeen broken up into islands even during the later tertiary periods;\nand in such islands distinct species might have been separately formed\nwithout the possibility of intermediate varieties existing in the\nintermediate zones. By changes in the form of the land and of climate,\nmarine areas now continuous must often have existed within recent times\nin a far less continuous and uniform condition than at present. But I\nwill pass over this way of escaping from the difficulty; for I believe\nthat many perfectly defined species have been formed on strictly\ncontinuous areas; though I do not doubt that the formerly broken\ncondition of areas now continuous has played an important part in the\nformation of new species, more especially with freely-crossing and\nwandering animals.\n\nIn looking at species as they are now distributed over a wide area,\nwe generally find them tolerably numerous over a large territory, then\nbecoming somewhat abruptly rarer and rarer on the confines, and finally\ndisappearing. Hence the neutral territory between two representative\nspecies is generally narrow in comparison with the territory proper to\neach. We see the same fact in ascending mountains, and sometimes it\nis quite remarkable how abruptly, as Alph. De Candolle has observed,\na common alpine species disappears. The same fact has been noticed by\nForbes in sounding the depths of the sea with the dredge. To those who\nlook at climate and the physical conditions of life as the all-important\nelements of distribution, these facts ought to cause surprise, as\nclimate and height or depth graduate away insensibly. But when we\nbear in mind that almost every species, even in its metropolis, would\nincrease immensely in numbers, were it not for other competing species;\nthat nearly all either prey on or serve as prey for others; in short,\nthat each organic being is either directly or indirectly related in\nthe most important manner to other organic beings, we must see that the\nrange of the inhabitants of any country by no means exclusively depends\non insensibly changing physical conditions, but in large part on the\npresence of other species, on which it depends, or by which it is\ndestroyed, or with which it comes into competition; and as these species\nare already defined objects (however they may have become so), not\nblending one into another by insensible gradations, the range of any one\nspecies, depending as it does on the range of others, will tend to be\nsharply defined. Moreover, each species on the confines of its range,\nwhere it exists in lessened numbers, will, during fluctuations in the\nnumber of its enemies or of its prey, or in the seasons, be extremely\nliable to utter extermination; and thus its geographical range will come\nto be still more sharply defined.\n\nIf I am right in believing that allied or representative species, when\ninhabiting a continuous area, are generally so distributed that each\nhas a wide range, with a comparatively narrow neutral territory between\nthem, in which they become rather suddenly rarer and rarer; then, as\nvarieties do not essentially differ from species, the same rule will\nprobably apply to both; and if we in imagination adapt a varying species\nto a very large area, we shall have to adapt two varieties to two\nlarge areas, and a third variety to a narrow intermediate zone. The\nintermediate variety, consequently, will exist in lesser numbers from\ninhabiting a narrow and lesser area; and practically, as far as I can\nmake out, this rule holds good with varieties in a state of nature. I\nhave met with striking instances of the rule in the case of varieties\nintermediate between well-marked varieties in the genus Balanus. And it\nwould appear from information given me by Mr. Watson, Dr. Asa Gray, and\nMr. Wollaston, that generally when varieties intermediate between two\nother forms occur, they are much rarer numerically than the forms which\nthey connect. Now, if we may trust these facts and inferences, and\ntherefore conclude that varieties linking two other varieties together\nhave generally existed in lesser numbers than the forms which they\nconnect, then, I think, we can understand why intermediate varieties\nshould not endure for very long periods;--why as a general rule they\nshould be exterminated and disappear, sooner than the forms which they\noriginally linked together.\n\nFor any form existing in lesser numbers would, as already remarked,\nrun a greater chance of being exterminated than one existing in large\nnumbers; and in this particular case the intermediate form would be\neminently liable to the inroads of closely allied forms existing on both\nsides of it. But a far more important consideration, as I believe, is\nthat, during the process of further modification, by which two varieties\nare supposed on my theory to be converted and perfected into two\ndistinct species, the two which exist in larger numbers from inhabiting\nlarger areas, will have a great advantage over the intermediate variety,\nwhich exists in smaller numbers in a narrow and intermediate zone.\nFor forms existing in larger numbers will always have a better chance,\nwithin any given period, of presenting further favourable variations for\nnatural selection to seize on, than will the rarer forms which exist in\nlesser numbers. Hence, the more common forms, in the race for life, will\ntend to beat and supplant the less common forms, for these will be\nmore slowly modified and improved. It is the same principle which, as\nI believe, accounts for the common species in each country, as shown\nin the second chapter, presenting on an average a greater number of\nwell-marked varieties than do the rarer species. I may illustrate what I\nmean by supposing three varieties of sheep to be kept, one adapted to an\nextensive mountainous region; a second to a comparatively narrow, hilly\ntract; and a third to wide plains at the base; and that the inhabitants\nare all trying with equal steadiness and skill to improve their stocks\nby selection; the chances in this case will be strongly in favour of the\ngreat holders on the mountains or on the plains improving their breeds\nmore quickly than the small holders on the intermediate narrow, hilly\ntract; and consequently the improved mountain or plain breed will soon\ntake the place of the less improved hill breed; and thus the two breeds,\nwhich originally existed in greater numbers, will come into close\ncontact with each other, without the interposition of the supplanted,\nintermediate hill-variety.\n\nTo sum up, I believe that species come to be tolerably well-defined\nobjects, and do not at any one period present an inextricable chaos of\nvarying and intermediate links: firstly, because new varieties are\nvery slowly formed, for variation is a very slow process, and natural\nselection can do nothing until favourable variations chance to occur,\nand until a place in the natural polity of the country can be better\nfilled by some modification of some one or more of its inhabitants.\nAnd such new places will depend on slow changes of climate, or on the\noccasional immigration of new inhabitants, and, probably, in a still\nmore important degree, on some of the old inhabitants becoming slowly\nmodified, with the new forms thus produced and the old ones acting and\nreacting on each other. So that, in any one region and at any one time,\nwe ought only to see a few species presenting slight modifications of\nstructure in some degree permanent; and this assuredly we do see.\n\nSecondly, areas now continuous must often have existed within the\nrecent period in isolated portions, in which many forms, more especially\namongst the classes which unite for each birth and wander much, may have\nseparately been rendered sufficiently distinct to rank as representative\nspecies. In this case, intermediate varieties between the several\nrepresentative species and their common parent, must formerly have\nexisted in each broken portion of the land, but these links will\nhave been supplanted and exterminated during the process of natural\nselection, so that they will no longer exist in a living state.\n\nThirdly, when two or more varieties have been formed in different\nportions of a strictly continuous area, intermediate varieties will, it\nis probable, at first have been formed in the intermediate zones, but\nthey will generally have had a short duration. For these intermediate\nvarieties will, from reasons already assigned (namely from what we know\nof the actual distribution of closely allied or representative species,\nand likewise of acknowledged varieties), exist in the intermediate zones\nin lesser numbers than the varieties which they tend to connect. From\nthis cause alone the intermediate varieties will be liable to accidental\nextermination; and during the process of further modification through\nnatural selection, they will almost certainly be beaten and supplanted\nby the forms which they connect; for these from existing in greater\nnumbers will, in the aggregate, present more variation, and thus be\nfurther improved through natural selection and gain further advantages.\n\nLastly, looking not to any one time, but to all time, if my theory be\ntrue, numberless intermediate varieties, linking most closely all the\nspecies of the same group together, must assuredly have existed; but the\nvery process of natural selection constantly tends, as has been so often\nremarked, to exterminate the parent forms and the intermediate links.\nConsequently evidence of their former existence could be found only\namongst fossil remains, which are preserved, as we shall in a future\nchapter attempt to show, in an extremely imperfect and intermittent\nrecord.\n\nON THE ORIGIN AND TRANSITIONS OF ORGANIC BEINGS WITH PECULIAR HABITS AND\nSTRUCTURE.\n\nIt has been asked by the opponents of such views as I hold, how, for\ninstance, a land carnivorous animal could have been converted into one\nwith aquatic habits; for how could the animal in its transitional state\nhave subsisted? It would be easy to show that within the same group\ncarnivorous animals exist having every intermediate grade between\ntruly aquatic and strictly terrestrial habits; and as each exists by a\nstruggle for life, it is clear that each is well adapted in its habits\nto its place in nature. Look at the Mustela vison of North America,\nwhich has webbed feet and which resembles an otter in its fur, short\nlegs, and form of tail; during summer this animal dives for and preys on\nfish, but during the long winter it leaves the frozen waters, and preys\nlike other polecats on mice and land animals. If a different case had\nbeen taken, and it had been asked how an insectivorous quadruped could\npossibly have been converted into a flying bat, the question would have\nbeen far more difficult, and I could have given no answer. Yet I think\nsuch difficulties have very little weight.\n\nHere, as on other occasions, I lie under a heavy disadvantage, for out\nof the many striking cases which I have collected, I can give only one\nor two instances of transitional habits and structures in closely allied\nspecies of the same genus; and of diversified habits, either constant\nor occasional, in the same species. And it seems to me that nothing less\nthan a long list of such cases is sufficient to lessen the difficulty in\nany particular case like that of the bat.\n\nLook at the family of squirrels; here we have the finest gradation from\nanimals with their tails only slightly flattened, and from others, as\nSir J. Richardson has remarked, with the posterior part of their bodies\nrather wide and with the skin on their flanks rather full, to the\nso-called flying squirrels; and flying squirrels have their limbs and\neven the base of the tail united by a broad expanse of skin, which\nserves as a parachute and allows them to glide through the air to\nan astonishing distance from tree to tree. We cannot doubt that each\nstructure is of use to each kind of squirrel in its own country, by\nenabling it to escape birds or beasts of prey, or to collect food more\nquickly, or, as there is reason to believe, by lessening the danger\nfrom occasional falls. But it does not follow from this fact that the\nstructure of each squirrel is the best that it is possible to conceive\nunder all natural conditions. Let the climate and vegetation change,\nlet other competing rodents or new beasts of prey immigrate, or old ones\nbecome modified, and all analogy would lead us to believe that some at\nleast of the squirrels would decrease in numbers or become exterminated,\nunless they also became modified and improved in structure in a\ncorresponding manner. Therefore, I can see no difficulty, more\nespecially under changing conditions of life, in the continued\npreservation of individuals with fuller and fuller flank-membranes,\neach modification being useful, each being propagated, until by the\naccumulated effects of this process of natural selection, a perfect\nso-called flying squirrel was produced.\n\nNow look at the Galeopithecus or flying lemur, which formerly was\nfalsely ranked amongst bats. It has an extremely wide flank-membrane,\nstretching from the corners of the jaw to the tail, and including the\nlimbs and the elongated fingers: the flank membrane is, also, furnished\nwith an extensor muscle. Although no graduated links of structure,\nfitted for gliding through the air, now connect the Galeopithecus with\nthe other Lemuridae, yet I can see no difficulty in supposing that such\nlinks formerly existed, and that each had been formed by the same steps\nas in the case of the less perfectly gliding squirrels; and that each\ngrade of structure had been useful to its possessor. Nor can I see\nany insuperable difficulty in further believing it possible that the\nmembrane-connected fingers and fore-arm of the Galeopithecus might be\ngreatly lengthened by natural selection; and this, as far as the organs\nof flight are concerned, would convert it into a bat. In bats which have\nthe wing-membrane extended from the top of the shoulder to the\ntail, including the hind-legs, we perhaps see traces of an apparatus\noriginally constructed for gliding through the air rather than for\nflight.\n\nIf about a dozen genera of birds had become extinct or were unknown, who\nwould have ventured to have surmised that birds might have existed\nwhich used their wings solely as flappers, like the logger-headed duck\n(Micropterus of Eyton); as fins in the water and front legs on the land,\nlike the penguin; as sails, like the ostrich; and functionally for no\npurpose, like the Apteryx. Yet the structure of each of these birds is\ngood for it, under the conditions of life to which it is exposed, for\neach has to live by a struggle; but it is not necessarily the best\npossible under all possible conditions. It must not be inferred from\nthese remarks that any of the grades of wing-structure here alluded to,\nwhich perhaps may all have resulted from disuse, indicate the natural\nsteps by which birds have acquired their perfect power of flight; but\nthey serve, at least, to show what diversified means of transition are\npossible.\n\nSeeing that a few members of such water-breathing classes as the\nCrustacea and Mollusca are adapted to live on the land, and seeing that\nwe have flying birds and mammals, flying insects of the most diversified\ntypes, and formerly had flying reptiles, it is conceivable that\nflying-fish, which now glide far through the air, slightly rising and\nturning by the aid of their fluttering fins, might have been modified\ninto perfectly winged animals. If this had been effected, who would\nhave ever imagined that in an early transitional state they had been\ninhabitants of the open ocean, and had used their incipient organs of\nflight exclusively, as far as we know, to escape being devoured by other\nfish?\n\nWhen we see any structure highly perfected for any particular habit,\nas the wings of a bird for flight, we should bear in mind that animals\ndisplaying early transitional grades of the structure will seldom\ncontinue to exist to the present day, for they will have been\nsupplanted by the very process of perfection through natural selection.\nFurthermore, we may conclude that transitional grades between structures\nfitted for very different habits of life will rarely have been developed\nat an early period in great numbers and under many subordinate forms.\nThus, to return to our imaginary illustration of the flying-fish, it\ndoes not seem probable that fishes capable of true flight would have\nbeen developed under many subordinate forms, for taking prey of many\nkinds in many ways, on the land and in the water, until their organs of\nflight had come to a high stage of perfection, so as to have given them\na decided advantage over other animals in the battle for life. Hence the\nchance of discovering species with transitional grades of structure in\na fossil condition will always be less, from their having existed\nin lesser numbers, than in the case of species with fully developed\nstructures.\n\nI will now give two or three instances of diversified and of changed\nhabits in the individuals of the same species. When either case occurs,\nit would be easy for natural selection to fit the animal, by some\nmodification of its structure, for its changed habits, or exclusively\nfor one of its several different habits. But it is difficult to tell,\nand immaterial for us, whether habits generally change first and\nstructure afterwards; or whether slight modifications of structure lead\nto changed habits; both probably often change almost simultaneously. Of\ncases of changed habits it will suffice merely to allude to that of the\nmany British insects which now feed on exotic plants, or exclusively on\nartificial substances. Of diversified habits innumerable instances\ncould be given: I have often watched a tyrant flycatcher (Saurophagus\nsulphuratus) in South America, hovering over one spot and then\nproceeding to another, like a kestrel, and at other times standing\nstationary on the margin of water, and then dashing like a kingfisher at\na fish. In our own country the larger titmouse (Parus major) may be seen\nclimbing branches, almost like a creeper; it often, like a shrike, kills\nsmall birds by blows on the head; and I have many times seen and heard\nit hammering the seeds of the yew on a branch, and thus breaking them\nlike a nuthatch. In North America the black bear was seen by Hearne\nswimming for hours with widely open mouth, thus catching, like a whale,\ninsects in the water. Even in so extreme a case as this, if the supply\nof insects were constant, and if better adapted competitors did not\nalready exist in the country, I can see no difficulty in a race of bears\nbeing rendered, by natural selection, more and more aquatic in their\nstructure and habits, with larger and larger mouths, till a creature was\nproduced as monstrous as a whale.\n\nAs we sometimes see individuals of a species following habits widely\ndifferent from those both of their own species and of the other species\nof the same genus, we might expect, on my theory, that such individuals\nwould occasionally have given rise to new species, having anomalous\nhabits, and with their structure either slightly or considerably\nmodified from that of their proper type. And such instances do occur in\nnature. Can a more striking instance of adaptation be given than that of\na woodpecker for climbing trees and for seizing insects in the chinks of\nthe bark? Yet in North America there are woodpeckers which feed largely\non fruit, and others with elongated wings which chase insects on the\nwing; and on the plains of La Plata, where not a tree grows, there is a\nwoodpecker, which in every essential part of its organisation, even in\nits colouring, in the harsh tone of its voice, and undulatory flight,\ntold me plainly of its close blood-relationship to our common species;\nyet it is a woodpecker which never climbs a tree!\n\nPetrels are the most aerial and oceanic of birds, yet in the quiet\nSounds of Tierra del Fuego, the Puffinuria berardi, in its general\nhabits, in its astonishing power of diving, its manner of swimming, and\nof flying when unwillingly it takes flight, would be mistaken by any one\nfor an auk or grebe; nevertheless, it is essentially a petrel, but with\nmany parts of its organisation profoundly modified. On the other hand,\nthe acutest observer by examining the dead body of the water-ouzel would\nnever have suspected its sub-aquatic habits; yet this anomalous\nmember of the strictly terrestrial thrush family wholly subsists by\ndiving,--grasping the stones with its feet and using its wings under\nwater.\n\nHe who believes that each being has been created as we now see it, must\noccasionally have felt surprise when he has met with an animal having\nhabits and structure not at all in agreement. What can be plainer than\nthat the webbed feet of ducks and geese are formed for swimming? yet\nthere are upland geese with webbed feet which rarely or never go near\nthe water; and no one except Audubon has seen the frigate-bird, which\nhas all its four toes webbed, alight on the surface of the sea. On the\nother hand, grebes and coots are eminently aquatic, although their toes\nare only bordered by membrane. What seems plainer than that the long\ntoes of grallatores are formed for walking over swamps and floating\nplants, yet the water-hen is nearly as aquatic as the coot; and the\nlandrail nearly as terrestrial as the quail or partridge. In such\ncases, and many others could be given, habits have changed without a\ncorresponding change of structure. The webbed feet of the upland goose\nmay be said to have become rudimentary in function, though not in\nstructure. In the frigate-bird, the deeply-scooped membrane between the\ntoes shows that structure has begun to change.\n\nHe who believes in separate and innumerable acts of creation will say,\nthat in these cases it has pleased the Creator to cause a being of one\ntype to take the place of one of another type; but this seems to me\nonly restating the fact in dignified language. He who believes in the\nstruggle for existence and in the principle of natural selection, will\nacknowledge that every organic being is constantly endeavouring to\nincrease in numbers; and that if any one being vary ever so little,\neither in habits or structure, and thus gain an advantage over some\nother inhabitant of the country, it will seize on the place of that\ninhabitant, however different it may be from its own place. Hence it\nwill cause him no surprise that there should be geese and frigate-birds\nwith webbed feet, either living on the dry land or most rarely alighting\non the water; that there should be long-toed corncrakes living in\nmeadows instead of in swamps; that there should be woodpeckers where not\na tree grows; that there should be diving thrushes, and petrels with the\nhabits of auks.\n\nORGANS OF EXTREME PERFECTION AND COMPLICATION.\n\nTo suppose that the eye, with all its inimitable contrivances for\nadjusting the focus to different distances, for admitting different\namounts of light, and for the correction of spherical and chromatic\naberration, could have been formed by natural selection, seems, I freely\nconfess, absurd in the highest possible degree. Yet reason tells me,\nthat if numerous gradations from a perfect and complex eye to one very\nimperfect and simple, each grade being useful to its possessor, can be\nshown to exist; if further, the eye does vary ever so slightly, and\nthe variations be inherited, which is certainly the case; and if any\nvariation or modification in the organ be ever useful to an animal under\nchanging conditions of life, then the difficulty of believing that a\nperfect and complex eye could be formed by natural selection, though\ninsuperable by our imagination, can hardly be considered real. How a\nnerve comes to be sensitive to light, hardly concerns us more than how\nlife itself first originated; but I may remark that several facts make\nme suspect that any sensitive nerve may be rendered sensitive to light,\nand likewise to those coarser vibrations of the air which produce sound.\n\nIn looking for the gradations by which an organ in any species has been\nperfected, we ought to look exclusively to its lineal ancestors; but\nthis is scarcely ever possible, and we are forced in each case to look\nto species of the same group, that is to the collateral descendants\nfrom the same original parent-form, in order to see what gradations are\npossible, and for the chance of some gradations having been transmitted\nfrom the earlier stages of descent, in an unaltered or little altered\ncondition. Amongst existing Vertebrata, we find but a small amount of\ngradation in the structure of the eye, and from fossil species we can\nlearn nothing on this head. In this great class we should probably\nhave to descend far beneath the lowest known fossiliferous stratum to\ndiscover the earlier stages, by which the eye has been perfected.\n\nIn the Articulata we can commence a series with an optic nerve merely\ncoated with pigment, and without any other mechanism; and from this\nlow stage, numerous gradations of structure, branching off in two\nfundamentally different lines, can be shown to exist, until we reach\na moderately high stage of perfection. In certain crustaceans, for\ninstance, there is a double cornea, the inner one divided into\nfacets, within each of which there is a lens-shaped swelling. In other\ncrustaceans the transparent cones which are coated by pigment, and which\nproperly act only by excluding lateral pencils of light, are convex at\ntheir upper ends and must act by convergence; and at their lower ends\nthere seems to be an imperfect vitreous substance. With these facts,\nhere far too briefly and imperfectly given, which show that there is\nmuch graduated diversity in the eyes of living crustaceans, and bearing\nin mind how small the number of living animals is in proportion to those\nwhich have become extinct, I can see no very great difficulty (not more\nthan in the case of many other structures) in believing that natural\nselection has converted the simple apparatus of an optic nerve merely\ncoated with pigment and invested by transparent membrane, into an\noptical instrument as perfect as is possessed by any member of the great\nArticulate class.\n\nHe who will go thus far, if he find on finishing this treatise that\nlarge bodies of facts, otherwise inexplicable, can be explained by the\ntheory of descent, ought not to hesitate to go further, and to admit\nthat a structure even as perfect as the eye of an eagle might be formed\nby natural selection, although in this case he does not know any of the\ntransitional grades. His reason ought to conquer his imagination; though\nI have felt the difficulty far too keenly to be surprised at any degree\nof hesitation in extending the principle of natural selection to such\nstartling lengths.\n\nIt is scarcely possible to avoid comparing the eye to a telescope.\nWe know that this instrument has been perfected by the long-continued\nefforts of the highest human intellects; and we naturally infer that the\neye has been formed by a somewhat analogous process. But may not this\ninference be presumptuous? Have we any right to assume that the Creator\nworks by intellectual powers like those of man? If we must compare the\neye to an optical instrument, we ought in imagination to take a thick\nlayer of transparent tissue, with a nerve sensitive to light beneath,\nand then suppose every part of this layer to be continually changing\nslowly in density, so as to separate into layers of different densities\nand thicknesses, placed at different distances from each other, and\nwith the surfaces of each layer slowly changing in form. Further we\nmust suppose that there is a power always intently watching each slight\naccidental alteration in the transparent layers; and carefully selecting\neach alteration which, under varied circumstances, may in any way, or in\nany degree, tend to produce a distincter image. We must suppose each new\nstate of the instrument to be multiplied by the million; and each to\nbe preserved till a better be produced, and then the old ones to\nbe destroyed. In living bodies, variation will cause the slight\nalterations, generation will multiply them almost infinitely, and\nnatural selection will pick out with unerring skill each improvement.\nLet this process go on for millions on millions of years; and during\neach year on millions of individuals of many kinds; and may we not\nbelieve that a living optical instrument might thus be formed as\nsuperior to one of glass, as the works of the Creator are to those of\nman?\n\nIf it could be demonstrated that any complex organ existed, which\ncould not possibly have been formed by numerous, successive, slight\nmodifications, my theory would absolutely break down. But I can find\nout no such case. No doubt many organs exist of which we do not know\nthe transitional grades, more especially if we look to much-isolated\nspecies, round which, according to my theory, there has been much\nextinction. Or again, if we look to an organ common to all the members\nof a large class, for in this latter case the organ must have been first\nformed at an extremely remote period, since which all the many members\nof the class have been developed; and in order to discover the early\ntransitional grades through which the organ has passed, we should have\nto look to very ancient ancestral forms, long since become extinct.\n\nWe should be extremely cautious in concluding that an organ could not\nhave been formed by transitional gradations of some kind. Numerous cases\ncould be given amongst the lower animals of the same organ performing\nat the same time wholly distinct functions; thus the alimentary canal\nrespires, digests, and excretes in the larva of the dragon-fly and in\nthe fish Cobites. In the Hydra, the animal may be turned inside out, and\nthe exterior surface will then digest and the stomach respire. In such\ncases natural selection might easily specialise, if any advantage were\nthus gained, a part or organ, which had performed two functions, for one\nfunction alone, and thus wholly change its nature by insensible steps.\nTwo distinct organs sometimes perform simultaneously the same function\nin the same individual; to give one instance, there are fish with gills\nor branchiae that breathe the air dissolved in the water, at the same\ntime that they breathe free air in their swimbladders, this latter organ\nhaving a ductus pneumaticus for its supply, and being divided by highly\nvascular partitions. In these cases, one of the two organs might with\nease be modified and perfected so as to perform all the work by itself,\nbeing aided during the process of modification by the other organ;\nand then this other organ might be modified for some other and quite\ndistinct purpose, or be quite obliterated.\n\nThe illustration of the swimbladder in fishes is a good one, because\nit shows us clearly the highly important fact that an organ originally\nconstructed for one purpose, namely flotation, may be converted into one\nfor a wholly different purpose, namely respiration. The swimbladder has,\nalso, been worked in as an accessory to the auditory organs of certain\nfish, or, for I do not know which view is now generally held, a part\nof the auditory apparatus has been worked in as a complement to the\nswimbladder. All physiologists admit that the swimbladder is homologous,\nor \"ideally similar,\" in position and structure with the lungs of\nthe higher vertebrate animals: hence there seems to me to be no great\ndifficulty in believing that natural selection has actually converted a\nswimbladder into a lung, or organ used exclusively for respiration.\n\nI can, indeed, hardly doubt that all vertebrate animals having true\nlungs have descended by ordinary generation from an ancient prototype,\nof which we know nothing, furnished with a floating apparatus or\nswimbladder. We can thus, as I infer from Professor Owen's interesting\ndescription of these parts, understand the strange fact that every\nparticle of food and drink which we swallow has to pass over the\norifice of the trachea, with some risk of falling into the lungs,\nnotwithstanding the beautiful contrivance by which the glottis\nis closed. In the higher Vertebrata the branchiae have wholly\ndisappeared--the slits on the sides of the neck and the loop-like course\nof the arteries still marking in the embryo their former position. But\nit is conceivable that the now utterly lost branchiae might have\nbeen gradually worked in by natural selection for some quite distinct\npurpose: in the same manner as, on the view entertained by some\nnaturalists that the branchiae and dorsal scales of Annelids are\nhomologous with the wings and wing-covers of insects, it is probable\nthat organs which at a very ancient period served for respiration have\nbeen actually converted into organs of flight.\n\nIn considering transitions of organs, it is so important to bear in mind\nthe probability of conversion from one function to another, that I will\ngive one more instance. Pedunculated cirripedes have two minute folds of\nskin, called by me the ovigerous frena, which serve, through the means\nof a sticky secretion, to retain the eggs until they are hatched within\nthe sack. These cirripedes have no branchiae, the whole surface of the\nbody and sack, including the small frena, serving for respiration. The\nBalanidae or sessile cirripedes, on the other hand, have no ovigerous\nfrena, the eggs lying loose at the bottom of the sack, in the\nwell-enclosed shell; but they have large folded branchiae. Now I think\nno one will dispute that the ovigerous frena in the one family are\nstrictly homologous with the branchiae of the other family; indeed, they\ngraduate into each other. Therefore I do not doubt that little folds of\nskin, which originally served as ovigerous frena, but which, likewise,\nvery slightly aided the act of respiration, have been gradually\nconverted by natural selection into branchiae, simply through an\nincrease in their size and the obliteration of their adhesive glands.\nIf all pedunculated cirripedes had become extinct, and they have already\nsuffered far more extinction than have sessile cirripedes, who would\never have imagined that the branchiae in this latter family had\noriginally existed as organs for preventing the ova from being washed\nout of the sack?\n\nAlthough we must be extremely cautious in concluding that any organ\ncould not possibly have been produced by successive transitional\ngradations, yet, undoubtedly, grave cases of difficulty occur, some of\nwhich will be discussed in my future work.\n\nOne of the gravest is that of neuter insects, which are often very\ndifferently constructed from either the males or fertile females; but\nthis case will be treated of in the next chapter. The electric organs\nof fishes offer another case of special difficulty; it is impossible to\nconceive by what steps these wondrous organs have been produced; but,\nas Owen and others have remarked, their intimate structure closely\nresembles that of common muscle; and as it has lately been shown that\nRays have an organ closely analogous to the electric apparatus, and yet\ndo not, as Matteuchi asserts, discharge any electricity, we must own\nthat we are far too ignorant to argue that no transition of any kind is\npossible.\n\nThe electric organs offer another and even more serious difficulty; for\nthey occur in only about a dozen fishes, of which several are widely\nremote in their affinities. Generally when the same organ appears in\nseveral members of the same class, especially if in members having very\ndifferent habits of life, we may attribute its presence to inheritance\nfrom a common ancestor; and its absence in some of the members to its\nloss through disuse or natural selection. But if the electric organs had\nbeen inherited from one ancient progenitor thus provided, we might have\nexpected that all electric fishes would have been specially related to\neach other. Nor does geology at all lead to the belief that formerly\nmost fishes had electric organs, which most of their modified\ndescendants have lost. The presence of luminous organs in a few insects,\nbelonging to different families and orders, offers a parallel case of\ndifficulty. Other cases could be given; for instance in plants, the very\ncurious contrivance of a mass of pollen-grains, borne on a\nfoot-stalk with a sticky gland at the end, is the same in Orchis and\nAsclepias,--genera almost as remote as possible amongst flowering\nplants. In all these cases of two very distinct species furnished\nwith apparently the same anomalous organ, it should be observed that,\nalthough the general appearance and function of the organ may be the\nsame, yet some fundamental difference can generally be detected. I\nam inclined to believe that in nearly the same way as two men have\nsometimes independently hit on the very same invention, so natural\nselection, working for the good of each being and taking advantage of\nanalogous variations, has sometimes modified in very nearly the same\nmanner two parts in two organic beings, which owe but little of their\nstructure in common to inheritance from the same ancestor.\n\nAlthough in many cases it is most difficult to conjecture by what\ntransitions an organ could have arrived at its present state; yet,\nconsidering that the proportion of living and known forms to the extinct\nand unknown is very small, I have been astonished how rarely an organ\ncan be named, towards which no transitional grade is known to lead.\nThe truth of this remark is indeed shown by that old canon in natural\nhistory of \"Natura non facit saltum.\" We meet with this admission in the\nwritings of almost every experienced naturalist; or, as Milne Edwards\nhas well expressed it, nature is prodigal in variety, but niggard in\ninnovation. Why, on the theory of Creation, should this be so? Why\nshould all the parts and organs of many independent beings, each\nsupposed to have been separately created for its proper place in nature,\nbe so invariably linked together by graduated steps? Why should not\nNature have taken a leap from structure to structure? On the theory of\nnatural selection, we can clearly understand why she should not; for\nnatural selection can act only by taking advantage of slight successive\nvariations; she can never take a leap, but must advance by the shortest\nand slowest steps.\n\nORGANS OF LITTLE APPARENT IMPORTANCE.\n\nAs natural selection acts by life and death,--by the preservation of\nindividuals with any favourable variation, and by the destruction of\nthose with any unfavourable deviation of structure,--I have sometimes\nfelt much difficulty in understanding the origin of simple parts, of\nwhich the importance does not seem sufficient to cause the preservation\nof successively varying individuals. I have sometimes felt as much\ndifficulty, though of a very different kind, on this head, as in the\ncase of an organ as perfect and complex as the eye.\n\nIn the first place, we are much too ignorant in regard to the whole\neconomy of any one organic being, to say what slight modifications would\nbe of importance or not. In a former chapter I have given instances of\nmost trifling characters, such as the down on fruit and the colour of\nthe flesh, which, from determining the attacks of insects or from being\ncorrelated with constitutional differences, might assuredly be acted on\nby natural selection. The tail of the giraffe looks like an artificially\nconstructed fly-flapper; and it seems at first incredible that this\ncould have been adapted for its present purpose by successive slight\nmodifications, each better and better, for so trifling an object as\ndriving away flies; yet we should pause before being too positive even\nin this case, for we know that the distribution and existence of cattle\nand other animals in South America absolutely depends on their power of\nresisting the attacks of insects: so that individuals which could by any\nmeans defend themselves from these small enemies, would be able to range\ninto new pastures and thus gain a great advantage. It is not that the\nlarger quadrupeds are actually destroyed (except in some rare cases) by\nthe flies, but they are incessantly harassed and their strength reduced,\nso that they are more subject to disease, or not so well enabled in a\ncoming dearth to search for food, or to escape from beasts of prey.\n\nOrgans now of trifling importance have probably in some cases been of\nhigh importance to an early progenitor, and, after having been slowly\nperfected at a former period, have been transmitted in nearly the\nsame state, although now become of very slight use; and any actually\ninjurious deviations in their structure will always have been checked by\nnatural selection. Seeing how important an organ of locomotion the\ntail is in most aquatic animals, its general presence and use for many\npurposes in so many land animals, which in their lungs or modified\nswim-bladders betray their aquatic origin, may perhaps be thus accounted\nfor. A well-developed tail having been formed in an aquatic animal, it\nmight subsequently come to be worked in for all sorts of purposes, as\na fly-flapper, an organ of prehension, or as an aid in turning, as with\nthe dog, though the aid must be slight, for the hare, with hardly any\ntail, can double quickly enough.\n\nIn the second place, we may sometimes attribute importance to characters\nwhich are really of very little importance, and which have originated\nfrom quite secondary causes, independently of natural selection. We\nshould remember that climate, food, etc., probably have some little\ndirect influence on the organisation; that characters reappear from\nthe law of reversion; that correlation of growth will have had a most\nimportant influence in modifying various structures; and finally,\nthat sexual selection will often have largely modified the external\ncharacters of animals having a will, to give one male an advantage\nin fighting with another or in charming the females. Moreover when a\nmodification of structure has primarily arisen from the above or\nother unknown causes, it may at first have been of no advantage to\nthe species, but may subsequently have been taken advantage of by the\ndescendants of the species under new conditions of life and with newly\nacquired habits.\n\nTo give a few instances to illustrate these latter remarks. If green\nwoodpeckers alone had existed, and we did not know that there were many\nblack and pied kinds, I dare say that we should have thought that the\ngreen colour was a beautiful adaptation to hide this tree-frequenting\nbird from its enemies; and consequently that it was a character of\nimportance and might have been acquired through natural selection; as it\nis, I have no doubt that the colour is due to some quite distinct cause,\nprobably to sexual selection. A trailing bamboo in the Malay Archipelago\nclimbs the loftiest trees by the aid of exquisitely constructed hooks\nclustered around the ends of the branches, and this contrivance, no\ndoubt, is of the highest service to the plant; but as we see nearly\nsimilar hooks on many trees which are not climbers, the hooks on the\nbamboo may have arisen from unknown laws of growth, and have been\nsubsequently taken advantage of by the plant undergoing further\nmodification and becoming a climber. The naked skin on the head of a\nvulture is generally looked at as a direct adaptation for wallowing in\nputridity; and so it may be, or it may possibly be due to the direct\naction of putrid matter; but we should be very cautious in drawing\nany such inference, when we see that the skin on the head of the\nclean-feeding male turkey is likewise naked. The sutures in the skulls\nof young mammals have been advanced as a beautiful adaptation for aiding\nparturition, and no doubt they facilitate, or may be indispensable\nfor this act; but as sutures occur in the skulls of young birds and\nreptiles, which have only to escape from a broken egg, we may infer that\nthis structure has arisen from the laws of growth, and has been taken\nadvantage of in the parturition of the higher animals.\n\nWe are profoundly ignorant of the causes producing slight and\nunimportant variations; and we are immediately made conscious of this by\nreflecting on the differences in the breeds of our domesticated animals\nin different countries,--more especially in the less civilized countries\nwhere there has been but little artificial selection. Careful observers\nare convinced that a damp climate affects the growth of the hair, and\nthat with the hair the horns are correlated. Mountain breeds always\ndiffer from lowland breeds; and a mountainous country would probably\naffect the hind limbs from exercising them more, and possibly even the\nform of the pelvis; and then by the law of homologous variation, the\nfront limbs and even the head would probably be affected. The shape,\nalso, of the pelvis might affect by pressure the shape of the head of\nthe young in the womb. The laborious breathing necessary in high regions\nwould, we have some reason to believe, increase the size of the chest;\nand again correlation would come into play. Animals kept by savages in\ndifferent countries often have to struggle for their own subsistence,\nand would be exposed to a certain extent to natural selection, and\nindividuals with slightly different constitutions would succeed\nbest under different climates; and there is reason to believe that\nconstitution and colour are correlated. A good observer, also, states\nthat in cattle susceptibility to the attacks of flies is correlated with\ncolour, as is the liability to be poisoned by certain plants; so that\ncolour would be thus subjected to the action of natural selection. But\nwe are far too ignorant to speculate on the relative importance of the\nseveral known and unknown laws of variation; and I have here alluded\nto them only to show that, if we are unable to account for the\ncharacteristic differences of our domestic breeds, which nevertheless we\ngenerally admit to have arisen through ordinary generation, we ought\nnot to lay too much stress on our ignorance of the precise cause of the\nslight analogous differences between species. I might have adduced for\nthis same purpose the differences between the races of man, which are\nso strongly marked; I may add that some little light can apparently\nbe thrown on the origin of these differences, chiefly through sexual\nselection of a particular kind, but without here entering on copious\ndetails my reasoning would appear frivolous.\n\nThe foregoing remarks lead me to say a few words on the protest lately\nmade by some naturalists, against the utilitarian doctrine that every\ndetail of structure has been produced for the good of its possessor.\nThey believe that very many structures have been created for beauty in\nthe eyes of man, or for mere variety. This doctrine, if true, would be\nabsolutely fatal to my theory. Yet I fully admit that many structures\nare of no direct use to their possessors. Physical conditions probably\nhave had some little effect on structure, quite independently of any\ngood thus gained. Correlation of growth has no doubt played a most\nimportant part, and a useful modification of one part will often have\nentailed on other parts diversified changes of no direct use. So again\ncharacters which formerly were useful, or which formerly had arisen from\ncorrelation of growth, or from other unknown cause, may reappear from\nthe law of reversion, though now of no direct use. The effects of sexual\nselection, when displayed in beauty to charm the females, can be called\nuseful only in rather a forced sense. But by far the most important\nconsideration is that the chief part of the organisation of every\nbeing is simply due to inheritance; and consequently, though each being\nassuredly is well fitted for its place in nature, many structures now\nhave no direct relation to the habits of life of each species. Thus, we\ncan hardly believe that the webbed feet of the upland goose or of the\nfrigate-bird are of special use to these birds; we cannot believe that\nthe same bones in the arm of the monkey, in the fore leg of the horse,\nin the wing of the bat, and in the flipper of the seal, are of special\nuse to these animals. We may safely attribute these structures to\ninheritance. But to the progenitor of the upland goose and of the\nfrigate-bird, webbed feet no doubt were as useful as they now are to the\nmost aquatic of existing birds. So we may believe that the progenitor of\nthe seal had not a flipper, but a foot with five toes fitted for walking\nor grasping; and we may further venture to believe that the several\nbones in the limbs of the monkey, horse, and bat, which have been\ninherited from a common progenitor, were formerly of more special use to\nthat progenitor, or its progenitors, than they now are to these animals\nhaving such widely diversified habits. Therefore we may infer that\nthese several bones might have been acquired through natural selection,\nsubjected formerly, as now, to the several laws of inheritance,\nreversion, correlation of growth, etc. Hence every detail of structure\nin every living creature (making some little allowance for the direct\naction of physical conditions) may be viewed, either as having been of\nspecial use to some ancestral form, or as being now of special use to\nthe descendants of this form--either directly, or indirectly through the\ncomplex laws of growth.\n\nNatural selection cannot possibly produce any modification in any one\nspecies exclusively for the good of another species; though throughout\nnature one species incessantly takes advantage of, and profits by, the\nstructure of another. But natural selection can and does often produce\nstructures for the direct injury of other species, as we see in the fang\nof the adder, and in the ovipositor of the ichneumon, by which its eggs\nare deposited in the living bodies of other insects. If it could be\nproved that any part of the structure of any one species had been\nformed for the exclusive good of another species, it would annihilate my\ntheory, for such could not have been produced through natural selection.\nAlthough many statements may be found in works on natural history to\nthis effect, I cannot find even one which seems to me of any weight. It\nis admitted that the rattlesnake has a poison-fang for its own defence\nand for the destruction of its prey; but some authors suppose that at\nthe same time this snake is furnished with a rattle for its own injury,\nnamely, to warn its prey to escape. I would almost as soon believe that\nthe cat curls the end of its tail when preparing to spring, in order to\nwarn the doomed mouse. But I have not space here to enter on this and\nother such cases.\n\nNatural selection will never produce in a being anything injurious to\nitself, for natural selection acts solely by and for the good of each.\nNo organ will be formed, as Paley has remarked, for the purpose of\ncausing pain or for doing an injury to its possessor. If a fair balance\nbe struck between the good and evil caused by each part, each will be\nfound on the whole advantageous. After the lapse of time, under changing\nconditions of life, if any part comes to be injurious, it will be\nmodified; or if it be not so, the being will become extinct, as myriads\nhave become extinct.\n\nNatural selection tends only to make each organic being as perfect as,\nor slightly more perfect than, the other inhabitants of the same country\nwith which it has to struggle for existence. And we see that this is the\ndegree of perfection attained under nature. The endemic productions of\nNew Zealand, for instance, are perfect one compared with another; but\nthey are now rapidly yielding before the advancing legions of plants\nand animals introduced from Europe. Natural selection will not produce\nabsolute perfection, nor do we always meet, as far as we can judge, with\nthis high standard under nature. The correction for the aberration of\nlight is said, on high authority, not to be perfect even in that most\nperfect organ, the eye. If our reason leads us to admire with enthusiasm\na multitude of inimitable contrivances in nature, this same reason tells\nus, though we may easily err on both sides, that some other contrivances\nare less perfect. Can we consider the sting of the wasp or of the bee\nas perfect, which, when used against many attacking animals, cannot be\nwithdrawn, owing to the backward serratures, and so inevitably causes\nthe death of the insect by tearing out its viscera?\n\nIf we look at the sting of the bee, as having originally existed in a\nremote progenitor as a boring and serrated instrument, like that in so\nmany members of the same great order, and which has been modified\nbut not perfected for its present purpose, with the poison originally\nadapted to cause galls subsequently intensified, we can perhaps\nunderstand how it is that the use of the sting should so often cause the\ninsect's own death: for if on the whole the power of stinging be\nuseful to the community, it will fulfil all the requirements of natural\nselection, though it may cause the death of some few members. If we\nadmire the truly wonderful power of scent by which the males of many\ninsects find their females, can we admire the production for this\nsingle purpose of thousands of drones, which are utterly useless to the\ncommunity for any other end, and which are ultimately slaughtered by\ntheir industrious and sterile sisters? It may be difficult, but we ought\nto admire the savage instinctive hatred of the queen-bee, which urges\nher instantly to destroy the young queens her daughters as soon as born,\nor to perish herself in the combat; for undoubtedly this is for the\ngood of the community; and maternal love or maternal hatred, though\nthe latter fortunately is most rare, is all the same to the inexorable\nprinciple of natural selection. If we admire the several ingenious\ncontrivances, by which the flowers of the orchis and of many other\nplants are fertilised through insect agency, can we consider as equally\nperfect the elaboration by our fir-trees of dense clouds of pollen, in\norder that a few granules may be wafted by a chance breeze on to the\novules?\n\nSUMMARY OF CHAPTER.\n\nWe have in this chapter discussed some of the difficulties and\nobjections which may be urged against my theory. Many of them are very\ngrave; but I think that in the discussion light has been thrown on\nseveral facts, which on the theory of independent acts of creation are\nutterly obscure. We have seen that species at any one period are not\nindefinitely variable, and are not linked together by a multitude of\nintermediate gradations, partly because the process of natural selection\nwill always be very slow, and will act, at any one time, only on a very\nfew forms; and partly because the very process of natural selection\nalmost implies the continual supplanting and extinction of preceding\nand intermediate gradations. Closely allied species, now living on\na continuous area, must often have been formed when the area was not\ncontinuous, and when the conditions of life did not insensibly graduate\naway from one part to another. When two varieties are formed in two\ndistricts of a continuous area, an intermediate variety will often be\nformed, fitted for an intermediate zone; but from reasons assigned, the\nintermediate variety will usually exist in lesser numbers than the two\nforms which it connects; consequently the two latter, during the course\nof further modification, from existing in greater numbers, will have a\ngreat advantage over the less numerous intermediate variety, and will\nthus generally succeed in supplanting and exterminating it.\n\nWe have seen in this chapter how cautious we should be in concluding\nthat the most different habits of life could not graduate into each\nother; that a bat, for instance, could not have been formed by natural\nselection from an animal which at first could only glide through the\nair.\n\nWe have seen that a species may under new conditions of life change its\nhabits, or have diversified habits, with some habits very unlike those\nof its nearest congeners. Hence we can understand, bearing in mind that\neach organic being is trying to live wherever it can live, how it has\narisen that there are upland geese with webbed feet, ground woodpeckers,\ndiving thrushes, and petrels with the habits of auks.\n\nAlthough the belief that an organ so perfect as the eye could have been\nformed by natural selection, is more than enough to stagger any one; yet\nin the case of any organ, if we know of a long series of gradations in\ncomplexity, each good for its possessor, then, under changing conditions\nof life, there is no logical impossibility in the acquirement of any\nconceivable degree of perfection through natural selection. In the cases\nin which we know of no intermediate or transitional states, we should\nbe very cautious in concluding that none could have existed, for the\nhomologies of many organs and their intermediate states show that\nwonderful metamorphoses in function are at least possible. For instance,\na swim-bladder has apparently been converted into an air-breathing lung.\nThe same organ having performed simultaneously very different functions,\nand then having been specialised for one function; and two very distinct\norgans having performed at the same time the same function, the one\nhaving been perfected whilst aided by the other, must often have largely\nfacilitated transitions.\n\nWe are far too ignorant, in almost every case, to be enabled to assert\nthat any part or organ is so unimportant for the welfare of a species,\nthat modifications in its structure could not have been slowly\naccumulated by means of natural selection. But we may confidently\nbelieve that many modifications, wholly due to the laws of growth, and\nat first in no way advantageous to a species, have been subsequently\ntaken advantage of by the still further modified descendants of this\nspecies. We may, also, believe that a part formerly of high importance\nhas often been retained (as the tail of an aquatic animal by its\nterrestrial descendants), though it has become of such small importance\nthat it could not, in its present state, have been acquired by natural\nselection,--a power which acts solely by the preservation of profitable\nvariations in the struggle for life.\n\nNatural selection will produce nothing in one species for the exclusive\ngood or injury of another; though it may well produce parts, organs, and\nexcretions highly useful or even indispensable, or highly injurious to\nanother species, but in all cases at the same time useful to the owner.\nNatural selection in each well-stocked country, must act chiefly through\nthe competition of the inhabitants one with another, and consequently\nwill produce perfection, or strength in the battle for life, only\naccording to the standard of that country. Hence the inhabitants of one\ncountry, generally the smaller one, will often yield, as we see they do\nyield, to the inhabitants of another and generally larger country. For\nin the larger country there will have existed more individuals, and more\ndiversified forms, and the competition will have been severer, and\nthus the standard of perfection will have been rendered higher. Natural\nselection will not necessarily produce absolute perfection; nor, as far\nas we can judge by our limited faculties, can absolute perfection be\neverywhere found.\n\nOn the theory of natural selection we can clearly understand the full\nmeaning of that old canon in natural history, \"Natura non facit saltum.\"\nThis canon, if we look only to the present inhabitants of the world, is\nnot strictly correct, but if we include all those of past times, it must\nby my theory be strictly true.\n\nIt is generally acknowledged that all organic beings have been formed on\ntwo great laws--Unity of Type, and the Conditions of Existence. By unity\nof type is meant that fundamental agreement in structure, which we see\nin organic beings of the same class, and which is quite independent of\ntheir habits of life. On my theory, unity of type is explained by unity\nof descent. The expression of conditions of existence, so often insisted\non by the illustrious Cuvier, is fully embraced by the principle of\nnatural selection. For natural selection acts by either now adapting the\nvarying parts of each being to its organic and inorganic conditions of\nlife; or by having adapted them during long-past periods of time: the\nadaptations being aided in some cases by use and disuse, being slightly\naffected by the direct action of the external conditions of life, and\nbeing in all cases subjected to the several laws of growth. Hence, in\nfact, the law of the Conditions of Existence is the higher law; as it\nincludes, through the inheritance of former adaptations, that of Unity\nof Type.\n\n\n\n\n7. INSTINCT.\n\nInstincts comparable with habits, but different in their origin.\nInstincts graduated. Aphides and ants. Instincts variable. Domestic\ninstincts, their origin. Natural instincts of the cuckoo, ostrich, and\nparasitic bees. Slave-making ants. Hive-bee, its cell-making instinct.\nDifficulties on the theory of the Natural Selection of instincts. Neuter\nor sterile insects. Summary.\n\nThe subject of instinct might have been worked into the previous\nchapters; but I have thought that it would be more convenient to treat\nthe subject separately, especially as so wonderful an instinct as that\nof the hive-bee making its cells will probably have occurred to many\nreaders, as a difficulty sufficient to overthrow my whole theory. I must\npremise, that I have nothing to do with the origin of the primary mental\npowers, any more than I have with that of life itself. We are concerned\nonly with the diversities of instinct and of the other mental qualities\nof animals within the same class.\n\nI will not attempt any definition of instinct. It would be easy to show\nthat several distinct mental actions are commonly embraced by this term;\nbut every one understands what is meant, when it is said that instinct\nimpels the cuckoo to migrate and to lay her eggs in other birds' nests.\nAn action, which we ourselves should require experience to enable us to\nperform, when performed by an animal, more especially by a very young\none, without any experience, and when performed by many individuals in\nthe same way, without their knowing for what purpose it is performed,\nis usually said to be instinctive. But I could show that none of these\ncharacters of instinct are universal. A little dose, as Pierre Huber\nexpresses it, of judgment or reason, often comes into play, even in\nanimals very low in the scale of nature.\n\nFrederick Cuvier and several of the older metaphysicians have compared\ninstinct with habit. This comparison gives, I think, a remarkably\naccurate notion of the frame of mind under which an instinctive action\nis performed, but not of its origin. How unconsciously many habitual\nactions are performed, indeed not rarely in direct opposition to our\nconscious will! yet they may be modified by the will or reason. Habits\neasily become associated with other habits, and with certain periods\nof time and states of the body. When once acquired, they often remain\nconstant throughout life. Several other points of resemblance between\ninstincts and habits could be pointed out. As in repeating a well-known\nsong, so in instincts, one action follows another by a sort of rhythm;\nif a person be interrupted in a song, or in repeating anything by rote,\nhe is generally forced to go back to recover the habitual train of\nthought: so P. Huber found it was with a caterpillar, which makes a very\ncomplicated hammock; for if he took a caterpillar which had completed\nits hammock up to, say, the sixth stage of construction, and put it into\na hammock completed up only to the third stage, the caterpillar simply\nre-performed the fourth, fifth, and sixth stages of construction.\nIf, however, a caterpillar were taken out of a hammock made up, for\ninstance, to the third stage, and were put into one finished up to the\nsixth stage, so that much of its work was already done for it, far from\nfeeling the benefit of this, it was much embarrassed, and, in order to\ncomplete its hammock, seemed forced to start from the third stage, where\nit had left off, and thus tried to complete the already finished work.\n\nIf we suppose any habitual action to become inherited--and I think\nit can be shown that this does sometimes happen--then the resemblance\nbetween what originally was a habit and an instinct becomes so close as\nnot to be distinguished. If Mozart, instead of playing the pianoforte at\nthree years old with wonderfully little practice, had played a tune\nwith no practice at all, he might truly be said to have done so\ninstinctively. But it would be the most serious error to suppose that\nthe greater number of instincts have been acquired by habit in\none generation, and then transmitted by inheritance to succeeding\ngenerations. It can be clearly shown that the most wonderful instincts\nwith which we are acquainted, namely, those of the hive-bee and of many\nants, could not possibly have been thus acquired.\n\nIt will be universally admitted that instincts are as important as\ncorporeal structure for the welfare of each species, under its present\nconditions of life. Under changed conditions of life, it is at least\npossible that slight modifications of instinct might be profitable to a\nspecies; and if it can be shown that instincts do vary ever so little,\nthen I can see no difficulty in natural selection preserving and\ncontinually accumulating variations of instinct to any extent that may\nbe profitable. It is thus, as I believe, that all the most complex\nand wonderful instincts have originated. As modifications of corporeal\nstructure arise from, and are increased by, use or habit, and are\ndiminished or lost by disuse, so I do not doubt it has been with\ninstincts. But I believe that the effects of habit are of quite\nsubordinate importance to the effects of the natural selection of what\nmay be called accidental variations of instincts;--that is of variations\nproduced by the same unknown causes which produce slight deviations of\nbodily structure.\n\nNo complex instinct can possibly be produced through natural selection,\nexcept by the slow and gradual accumulation of numerous, slight, yet\nprofitable, variations. Hence, as in the case of corporeal structures,\nwe ought to find in nature, not the actual transitional gradations by\nwhich each complex instinct has been acquired--for these could be found\nonly in the lineal ancestors of each species--but we ought to find in\nthe collateral lines of descent some evidence of such gradations; or\nwe ought at least to be able to show that gradations of some kind are\npossible; and this we certainly can do. I have been surprised to find,\nmaking allowance for the instincts of animals having been but little\nobserved except in Europe and North America, and for no instinct being\nknown amongst extinct species, how very generally gradations, leading to\nthe most complex instincts, can be discovered. The canon of \"Natura non\nfacit saltum\" applies with almost equal force to instincts as to bodily\norgans. Changes of instinct may sometimes be facilitated by the same\nspecies having different instincts at different periods of life, or\nat different seasons of the year, or when placed under different\ncircumstances, etc.; in which case either one or the other instinct\nmight be preserved by natural selection. And such instances of diversity\nof instinct in the same species can be shown to occur in nature.\n\nAgain as in the case of corporeal structure, and conformably with my\ntheory, the instinct of each species is good for itself, but has never,\nas far as we can judge, been produced for the exclusive good of others.\nOne of the strongest instances of an animal apparently performing an\naction for the sole good of another, with which I am acquainted, is that\nof aphides voluntarily yielding their sweet excretion to ants: that they\ndo so voluntarily, the following facts show. I removed all the ants from\na group of about a dozen aphides on a dock-plant, and prevented their\nattendance during several hours. After this interval, I felt sure that\nthe aphides would want to excrete. I watched them for some time through\na lens, but not one excreted; I then tickled and stroked them with a\nhair in the same manner, as well as I could, as the ants do with their\nantennae; but not one excreted. Afterwards I allowed an ant to visit\nthem, and it immediately seemed, by its eager way of running about, to\nbe well aware what a rich flock it had discovered; it then began to play\nwith its antennae on the abdomen first of one aphis and then of another;\nand each aphis, as soon as it felt the antennae, immediately lifted up\nits abdomen and excreted a limpid drop of sweet juice, which was eagerly\ndevoured by the ant. Even the quite young aphides behaved in this\nmanner, showing that the action was instinctive, and not the result of\nexperience. But as the excretion is extremely viscid, it is probably a\nconvenience to the aphides to have it removed; and therefore probably\nthe aphides do not instinctively excrete for the sole good of the ants.\nAlthough I do not believe that any animal in the world performs an\naction for the exclusive good of another of a distinct species, yet\neach species tries to take advantage of the instincts of others, as each\ntakes advantage of the weaker bodily structure of others. So again, in\nsome few cases, certain instincts cannot be considered as absolutely\nperfect; but as details on this and other such points are not\nindispensable, they may be here passed over.\n\nAs some degree of variation in instincts under a state of nature, and\nthe inheritance of such variations, are indispensable for the action of\nnatural selection, as many instances as possible ought to have been here\ngiven; but want of space prevents me. I can only assert, that instincts\ncertainly do vary--for instance, the migratory instinct, both in extent\nand direction, and in its total loss. So it is with the nests of birds,\nwhich vary partly in dependence on the situations chosen, and on the\nnature and temperature of the country inhabited, but often from causes\nwholly unknown to us: Audubon has given several remarkable cases of\ndifferences in nests of the same species in the northern and southern\nUnited States. Fear of any particular enemy is certainly an instinctive\nquality, as may be seen in nestling birds, though it is strengthened by\nexperience, and by the sight of fear of the same enemy in other animals.\nBut fear of man is slowly acquired, as I have elsewhere shown, by\nvarious animals inhabiting desert islands; and we may see an instance\nof this, even in England, in the greater wildness of all our large birds\nthan of our small birds; for the large birds have been most persecuted\nby man. We may safely attribute the greater wildness of our large birds\nto this cause; for in uninhabited islands large birds are not more\nfearful than small; and the magpie, so wary in England, is tame in\nNorway, as is the hooded crow in Egypt.\n\nThat the general disposition of individuals of the same species, born in\na state of nature, is extremely diversified, can be shown by a multitude\nof facts. Several cases also, could be given, of occasional and strange\nhabits in certain species, which might, if advantageous to the species,\ngive rise, through natural selection, to quite new instincts. But I am\nwell aware that these general statements, without facts given in detail,\ncan produce but a feeble effect on the reader's mind. I can only repeat\nmy assurance, that I do not speak without good evidence.\n\nThe possibility, or even probability, of inherited variations\nof instinct in a state of nature will be strengthened by briefly\nconsidering a few cases under domestication. We shall thus also be\nenabled to see the respective parts which habit and the selection of\nso-called accidental variations have played in modifying the mental\nqualities of our domestic animals. A number of curious and authentic\ninstances could be given of the inheritance of all shades of disposition\nand tastes, and likewise of the oddest tricks, associated with certain\nframes of mind or periods of time. But let us look to the familiar case\nof the several breeds of dogs: it cannot be doubted that young pointers\n(I have myself seen a striking instance) will sometimes point and even\nback other dogs the very first time that they are taken out; retrieving\nis certainly in some degree inherited by retrievers; and a tendency to\nrun round, instead of at, a flock of sheep, by shepherd-dogs. I cannot\nsee that these actions, performed without experience by the young,\nand in nearly the same manner by each individual, performed with eager\ndelight by each breed, and without the end being known,--for the young\npointer can no more know that he points to aid his master, than\nthe white butterfly knows why she lays her eggs on the leaf of the\ncabbage,--I cannot see that these actions differ essentially from true\ninstincts. If we were to see one kind of wolf, when young and without\nany training, as soon as it scented its prey, stand motionless like a\nstatue, and then slowly crawl forward with a peculiar gait; and another\nkind of wolf rushing round, instead of at, a herd of deer, and driving\nthem to a distant point, we should assuredly call these actions\ninstinctive. Domestic instincts, as they may be called, are certainly\nfar less fixed or invariable than natural instincts; but they have been\nacted on by far less rigorous selection, and have been transmitted for\nan incomparably shorter period, under less fixed conditions of life.\n\nHow strongly these domestic instincts, habits, and dispositions are\ninherited, and how curiously they become mingled, is well shown when\ndifferent breeds of dogs are crossed. Thus it is known that a cross with\na bull-dog has affected for many generations the courage and obstinacy\nof greyhounds; and a cross with a greyhound has given to a whole family\nof shepherd-dogs a tendency to hunt hares. These domestic instincts,\nwhen thus tested by crossing, resemble natural instincts, which in a\nlike manner become curiously blended together, and for a long period\nexhibit traces of the instincts of either parent: for example, Le Roy\ndescribes a dog, whose great-grandfather was a wolf, and this dog\nshowed a trace of its wild parentage only in one way, by not coming in a\nstraight line to his master when called.\n\nDomestic instincts are sometimes spoken of as actions which have become\ninherited solely from long-continued and compulsory habit, but this,\nI think, is not true. No one would ever have thought of teaching, or\nprobably could have taught, the tumbler-pigeon to tumble,--an action\nwhich, as I have witnessed, is performed by young birds, that have\nnever seen a pigeon tumble. We may believe that some one pigeon showed\na slight tendency to this strange habit, and that the long-continued\nselection of the best individuals in successive generations made\ntumblers what they now are; and near Glasgow there are house-tumblers,\nas I hear from Mr. Brent, which cannot fly eighteen inches high without\ngoing head over heels. It may be doubted whether any one would have\nthought of training a dog to point, had not some one dog naturally shown\na tendency in this line; and this is known occasionally to happen, as I\nonce saw in a pure terrier. When the first tendency was once displayed,\nmethodical selection and the inherited effects of compulsory training in\neach successive generation would soon complete the work; and unconscious\nselection is still at work, as each man tries to procure, without\nintending to improve the breed, dogs which will stand and hunt best.\nOn the other hand, habit alone in some cases has sufficed; no animal is\nmore difficult to tame than the young of the wild rabbit; scarcely any\nanimal is tamer than the young of the tame rabbit; but I do not suppose\nthat domestic rabbits have ever been selected for tameness; and I\npresume that we must attribute the whole of the inherited change from\nextreme wildness to extreme tameness, simply to habit and long-continued\nclose confinement.\n\nNatural instincts are lost under domestication: a remarkable instance of\nthis is seen in those breeds of fowls which very rarely or never become\n\"broody,\" that is, never wish to sit on their eggs. Familiarity alone\nprevents our seeing how universally and largely the minds of our\ndomestic animals have been modified by domestication. It is scarcely\npossible to doubt that the love of man has become instinctive in the\ndog. All wolves, foxes, jackals, and species of the cat genus, when\nkept tame, are most eager to attack poultry, sheep, and pigs; and this\ntendency has been found incurable in dogs which have been brought home\nas puppies from countries, such as Tierra del Fuego and Australia, where\nthe savages do not keep these domestic animals. How rarely, on the other\nhand, do our civilised dogs, even when quite young, require to be taught\nnot to attack poultry, sheep, and pigs! No doubt they occasionally\ndo make an attack, and are then beaten; and if not cured, they are\ndestroyed; so that habit, with some degree of selection, has probably\nconcurred in civilising by inheritance our dogs. On the other hand,\nyoung chickens have lost, wholly by habit, that fear of the dog and cat\nwhich no doubt was originally instinctive in them, in the same way as it\nis so plainly instinctive in young pheasants, though reared under a hen.\nIt is not that chickens have lost all fear, but fear only of dogs and\ncats, for if the hen gives the danger-chuckle, they will run (more\nespecially young turkeys) from under her, and conceal themselves in\nthe surrounding grass or thickets; and this is evidently done for the\ninstinctive purpose of allowing, as we see in wild ground-birds, their\nmother to fly away. But this instinct retained by our chickens has\nbecome useless under domestication, for the mother-hen has almost lost\nby disuse the power of flight.\n\nHence, we may conclude, that domestic instincts have been acquired and\nnatural instincts have been lost partly by habit, and partly by man\nselecting and accumulating during successive generations, peculiar\nmental habits and actions, which at first appeared from what we must in\nour ignorance call an accident. In some cases compulsory habit alone\nhas sufficed to produce such inherited mental changes; in other cases\ncompulsory habit has done nothing, and all has been the result of\nselection, pursued both methodically and unconsciously; but in most\ncases, probably, habit and selection have acted together.\n\nWe shall, perhaps, best understand how instincts in a state of nature\nhave become modified by selection, by considering a few cases. I will\nselect only three, out of the several which I shall have to discuss in\nmy future work,--namely, the instinct which leads the cuckoo to lay her\neggs in other birds' nests; the slave-making instinct of certain ants;\nand the comb-making power of the hive-bee: these two latter instincts\nhave generally, and most justly, been ranked by naturalists as the most\nwonderful of all known instincts.\n\nIt is now commonly admitted that the more immediate and final cause\nof the cuckoo's instinct is, that she lays her eggs, not daily, but at\nintervals of two or three days; so that, if she were to make her own\nnest and sit on her own eggs, those first laid would have to be left\nfor some time unincubated, or there would be eggs and young birds of\ndifferent ages in the same nest. If this were the case, the process of\nlaying and hatching might be inconveniently long, more especially as she\nhas to migrate at a very early period; and the first hatched young would\nprobably have to be fed by the male alone. But the American cuckoo is\nin this predicament; for she makes her own nest and has eggs and young\nsuccessively hatched, all at the same time. It has been asserted that\nthe American cuckoo occasionally lays her eggs in other birds' nests;\nbut I hear on the high authority of Dr. Brewer, that this is a mistake.\nNevertheless, I could give several instances of various birds which have\nbeen known occasionally to lay their eggs in other birds' nests. Now let\nus suppose that the ancient progenitor of our European cuckoo had the\nhabits of the American cuckoo; but that occasionally she laid an egg in\nanother bird's nest. If the old bird profited by this occasional habit,\nor if the young were made more vigorous by advantage having been taken\nof the mistaken maternal instinct of another bird, than by their own\nmother's care, encumbered as she can hardly fail to be by having eggs\nand young of different ages at the same time; then the old birds or the\nfostered young would gain an advantage. And analogy would lead me\nto believe, that the young thus reared would be apt to follow by\ninheritance the occasional and aberrant habit of their mother, and in\ntheir turn would be apt to lay their eggs in other birds' nests, and\nthus be successful in rearing their young. By a continued process of\nthis nature, I believe that the strange instinct of our cuckoo could be,\nand has been, generated. I may add that, according to Dr. Gray and\nto some other observers, the European cuckoo has not utterly lost all\nmaternal love and care for her own offspring.\n\nThe occasional habit of birds laying their eggs in other birds' nests,\neither of the same or of a distinct species, is not very uncommon with\nthe Gallinaceae; and this perhaps explains the origin of a singular\ninstinct in the allied group of ostriches. For several hen ostriches,\nat least in the case of the American species, unite and lay first a\nfew eggs in one nest and then in another; and these are hatched by the\nmales. This instinct may probably be accounted for by the fact of the\nhens laying a large number of eggs; but, as in the case of the cuckoo,\nat intervals of two or three days. This instinct, however, of the\nAmerican ostrich has not as yet been perfected; for a surprising number\nof eggs lie strewed over the plains, so that in one day's hunting I\npicked up no less than twenty lost and wasted eggs.\n\nMany bees are parasitic, and always lay their eggs in the nests of bees\nof other kinds. This case is more remarkable than that of the cuckoo;\nfor these bees have not only their instincts but their structure\nmodified in accordance with their parasitic habits; for they do not\npossess the pollen-collecting apparatus which would be necessary if\nthey had to store food for their own young. Some species, likewise, of\nSphegidae (wasp-like insects) are parasitic on other species; and M.\nFabre has lately shown good reason for believing that although the\nTachytes nigra generally makes its own burrow and stores it with\nparalysed prey for its own larvae to feed on, yet that when this insect\nfinds a burrow already made and stored by another sphex, it takes\nadvantage of the prize, and becomes for the occasion parasitic. In this\ncase, as with the supposed case of the cuckoo, I can see no difficulty\nin natural selection making an occasional habit permanent, if of\nadvantage to the species, and if the insect whose nest and stored food\nare thus feloniously appropriated, be not thus exterminated.\n\nSLAVE-MAKING INSTINCT.\n\nThis remarkable instinct was first discovered in the Formica (Polyerges)\nrufescens by Pierre Huber, a better observer even than his celebrated\nfather. This ant is absolutely dependent on its slaves; without their\naid, the species would certainly become extinct in a single year. The\nmales and fertile females do no work. The workers or sterile females,\nthough most energetic and courageous in capturing slaves, do no other\nwork. They are incapable of making their own nests, or of feeding their\nown larvae. When the old nest is found inconvenient, and they have to\nmigrate, it is the slaves which determine the migration, and actually\ncarry their masters in their jaws. So utterly helpless are the masters,\nthat when Huber shut up thirty of them without a slave, but with plenty\nof the food which they like best, and with their larvae and pupae to\nstimulate them to work, they did nothing; they could not even feed\nthemselves, and many perished of hunger. Huber then introduced a single\nslave (F. fusca), and she instantly set to work, fed and saved the\nsurvivors; made some cells and tended the larvae, and put all to rights.\nWhat can be more extraordinary than these well-ascertained facts? If we\nhad not known of any other slave-making ant, it would have been\nhopeless to have speculated how so wonderful an instinct could have been\nperfected.\n\nFormica sanguinea was likewise first discovered by P. Huber to be\na slave-making ant. This species is found in the southern parts of\nEngland, and its habits have been attended to by Mr. F. Smith, of the\nBritish Museum, to whom I am much indebted for information on this and\nother subjects. Although fully trusting to the statements of Huber and\nMr. Smith, I tried to approach the subject in a sceptical frame of\nmind, as any one may well be excused for doubting the truth of so\nextraordinary and odious an instinct as that of making slaves. Hence\nI will give the observations which I have myself made, in some little\ndetail. I opened fourteen nests of F. sanguinea, and found a few slaves\nin all. Males and fertile females of the slave-species are found only in\ntheir own proper communities, and have never been observed in the nests\nof F. sanguinea. The slaves are black and not above half the size of\ntheir red masters, so that the contrast in their appearance is very\ngreat. When the nest is slightly disturbed, the slaves occasionally come\nout, and like their masters are much agitated and defend the nest: when\nthe nest is much disturbed and the larvae and pupae are exposed, the\nslaves work energetically with their masters in carrying them away to a\nplace of safety. Hence, it is clear, that the slaves feel quite at home.\nDuring the months of June and July, on three successive years, I have\nwatched for many hours several nests in Surrey and Sussex, and never\nsaw a slave either leave or enter a nest. As, during these months,\nthe slaves are very few in number, I thought that they might behave\ndifferently when more numerous; but Mr. Smith informs me that he has\nwatched the nests at various hours during May, June and August, both in\nSurrey and Hampshire, and has never seen the slaves, though present\nin large numbers in August, either leave or enter the nest. Hence he\nconsiders them as strictly household slaves. The masters, on the other\nhand, may be constantly seen bringing in materials for the nest, and\nfood of all kinds. During the present year, however, in the month of\nJuly, I came across a community with an unusually large stock of slaves,\nand I observed a few slaves mingled with their masters leaving the nest,\nand marching along the same road to a tall Scotch-fir-tree, twenty-five\nyards distant, which they ascended together, probably in search of\naphides or cocci. According to Huber, who had ample opportunities\nfor observation, in Switzerland the slaves habitually work with their\nmasters in making the nest, and they alone open and close the doors in\nthe morning and evening; and, as Huber expressly states, their principal\noffice is to search for aphides. This difference in the usual habits of\nthe masters and slaves in the two countries, probably depends merely\non the slaves being captured in greater numbers in Switzerland than in\nEngland.\n\nOne day I fortunately chanced to witness a migration from one nest to\nanother, and it was a most interesting spectacle to behold the masters\ncarefully carrying, as Huber has described, their slaves in their jaws.\nAnother day my attention was struck by about a score of the slave-makers\nhaunting the same spot, and evidently not in search of food; they\napproached and were vigorously repulsed by an independent community of\nthe slave species (F. fusca); sometimes as many as three of these\nants clinging to the legs of the slave-making F. sanguinea. The latter\nruthlessly killed their small opponents, and carried their dead\nbodies as food to their nest, twenty-nine yards distant; but they were\nprevented from getting any pupae to rear as slaves. I then dug up a\nsmall parcel of the pupae of F. fusca from another nest, and put them\ndown on a bare spot near the place of combat; they were eagerly seized,\nand carried off by the tyrants, who perhaps fancied that, after all,\nthey had been victorious in their late combat.\n\nAt the same time I laid on the same place a small parcel of the pupae of\nanother species, F. flava, with a few of these little yellow ants still\nclinging to the fragments of the nest. This species is sometimes, though\nrarely, made into slaves, as has been described by Mr. Smith.\nAlthough so small a species, it is very courageous, and I have seen it\nferociously attack other ants. In one instance I found to my surprise\nan independent community of F. flava under a stone beneath a nest of the\nslave-making F. sanguinea; and when I had accidentally disturbed both\nnests, the little ants attacked their big neighbours with surprising\ncourage. Now I was curious to ascertain whether F. sanguinea could\ndistinguish the pupae of F. fusca, which they habitually make into\nslaves, from those of the little and furious F. flava, which they rarely\ncapture, and it was evident that they did at once distinguish them:\nfor we have seen that they eagerly and instantly seized the pupae of F.\nfusca, whereas they were much terrified when they came across the pupae,\nor even the earth from the nest of F. flava, and quickly ran away; but\nin about a quarter of an hour, shortly after all the little yellow ants\nhad crawled away, they took heart and carried off the pupae.\n\nOne evening I visited another community of F. sanguinea, and found a\nnumber of these ants entering their nest, carrying the dead bodies of F.\nfusca (showing that it was not a migration) and numerous pupae. I traced\nthe returning file burthened with booty, for about forty yards, to\na very thick clump of heath, whence I saw the last individual of F.\nsanguinea emerge, carrying a pupa; but I was not able to find the\ndesolated nest in the thick heath. The nest, however, must have been\nclose at hand, for two or three individuals of F. fusca were rushing\nabout in the greatest agitation, and one was perched motionless with its\nown pupa in its mouth on the top of a spray of heath over its ravaged\nhome.\n\nSuch are the facts, though they did not need confirmation by me, in\nregard to the wonderful instinct of making slaves. Let it be observed\nwhat a contrast the instinctive habits of F. sanguinea present with\nthose of the F. rufescens. The latter does not build its own nest, does\nnot determine its own migrations, does not collect food for itself or\nits young, and cannot even feed itself: it is absolutely dependent on\nits numerous slaves. Formica sanguinea, on the other hand, possesses\nmuch fewer slaves, and in the early part of the summer extremely few.\nThe masters determine when and where a new nest shall be formed, and\nwhen they migrate, the masters carry the slaves. Both in Switzerland and\nEngland the slaves seem to have the exclusive care of the larvae, and\nthe masters alone go on slave-making expeditions. In Switzerland the\nslaves and masters work together, making and bringing materials for the\nnest: both, but chiefly the slaves, tend, and milk as it may be called,\ntheir aphides; and thus both collect food for the community. In England\nthe masters alone usually leave the nest to collect building materials\nand food for themselves, their slaves and larvae. So that the masters in\nthis country receive much less service from their slaves than they do in\nSwitzerland.\n\nBy what steps the instinct of F. sanguinea originated I will not pretend\nto conjecture. But as ants, which are not slave-makers, will, as I have\nseen, carry off pupae of other species, if scattered near their nests,\nit is possible that pupae originally stored as food might become\ndeveloped; and the ants thus unintentionally reared would then follow\ntheir proper instincts, and do what work they could. If their presence\nproved useful to the species which had seized them--if it were more\nadvantageous to this species to capture workers than to procreate\nthem--the habit of collecting pupae originally for food might by natural\nselection be strengthened and rendered permanent for the very different\npurpose of raising slaves. When the instinct was once acquired, if\ncarried out to a much less extent even than in our British F. sanguinea,\nwhich, as we have seen, is less aided by its slaves than the same\nspecies in Switzerland, I can see no difficulty in natural selection\nincreasing and modifying the instinct--always supposing each\nmodification to be of use to the species--until an ant was formed as\nabjectly dependent on its slaves as is the Formica rufescens.\n\nCELL-MAKING INSTINCT OF THE HIVE-BEE.\n\nI will not here enter on minute details on this subject, but will merely\ngive an outline of the conclusions at which I have arrived. He must be\na dull man who can examine the exquisite structure of a comb, so\nbeautifully adapted to its end, without enthusiastic admiration. We\nhear from mathematicians that bees have practically solved a recondite\nproblem, and have made their cells of the proper shape to hold the\ngreatest possible amount of honey, with the least possible consumption\nof precious wax in their construction. It has been remarked that a\nskilful workman, with fitting tools and measures, would find it\nvery difficult to make cells of wax of the true form, though this is\nperfectly effected by a crowd of bees working in a dark hive. Grant\nwhatever instincts you please, and it seems at first quite inconceivable\nhow they can make all the necessary angles and planes, or even perceive\nwhen they are correctly made. But the difficulty is not nearly so great\nas it at first appears: all this beautiful work can be shown, I think,\nto follow from a few very simple instincts.\n\nI was led to investigate this subject by Mr. Waterhouse, who has shown\nthat the form of the cell stands in close relation to the presence of\nadjoining cells; and the following view may, perhaps, be considered only\nas a modification of his theory. Let us look to the great principle of\ngradation, and see whether Nature does not reveal to us her method of\nwork. At one end of a short series we have humble-bees, which use their\nold cocoons to hold honey, sometimes adding to them short tubes of wax,\nand likewise making separate and very irregular rounded cells of wax. At\nthe other end of the series we have the cells of the hive-bee, placed in\na double layer: each cell, as is well known, is an hexagonal prism, with\nthe basal edges of its six sides bevelled so as to join on to a pyramid,\nformed of three rhombs. These rhombs have certain angles, and the three\nwhich form the pyramidal base of a single cell on one side of the comb,\nenter into the composition of the bases of three adjoining cells on the\nopposite side. In the series between the extreme perfection of the cells\nof the hive-bee and the simplicity of those of the humble-bee, we have\nthe cells of the Mexican Melipona domestica, carefully described\nand figured by Pierre Huber. The Melipona itself is intermediate in\nstructure between the hive and humble bee, but more nearly related to\nthe latter: it forms a nearly regular waxen comb of cylindrical cells,\nin which the young are hatched, and, in addition, some large cells of\nwax for holding honey. These latter cells are nearly spherical and of\nnearly equal sizes, and are aggregated into an irregular mass. But the\nimportant point to notice, is that these cells are always made at that\ndegree of nearness to each other, that they would have intersected or\nbroken into each other, if the spheres had been completed; but this is\nnever permitted, the bees building perfectly flat walls of wax between\nthe spheres which thus tend to intersect. Hence each cell consists of\nan outer spherical portion and of two, three, or more perfectly flat\nsurfaces, according as the cell adjoins two, three or more other cells.\nWhen one cell comes into contact with three other cells, which, from\nthe spheres being nearly of the same size, is very frequently and\nnecessarily the case, the three flat surfaces are united into a pyramid;\nand this pyramid, as Huber has remarked, is manifestly a gross imitation\nof the three-sided pyramidal basis of the cell of the hive-bee. As in\nthe cells of the hive-bee, so here, the three plane surfaces in any one\ncell necessarily enter into the construction of three adjoining cells.\nIt is obvious that the Melipona saves wax by this manner of building;\nfor the flat walls between the adjoining cells are not double, but are\nof the same thickness as the outer spherical portions, and yet each flat\nportion forms a part of two cells.\n\nReflecting on this case, it occurred to me that if the Melipona had made\nits spheres at some given distance from each other, and had made them of\nequal sizes and had arranged them symmetrically in a double layer, the\nresulting structure would probably have been as perfect as the comb of\nthe hive-bee. Accordingly I wrote to Professor Miller, of Cambridge,\nand this geometer has kindly read over the following statement, drawn up\nfrom his information, and tells me that it is strictly correct:--\n\nIf a number of equal spheres be described with their centres placed in\ntwo parallel layers; with the centre of each sphere at the distance of\nradius x the square root of 2 or radius x 1.41421 (or at some lesser\ndistance), from the centres of the six surrounding spheres in the\nsame layer; and at the same distance from the centres of the adjoining\nspheres in the other and parallel layer; then, if planes of intersection\nbetween the several spheres in both layers be formed, there will result\na double layer of hexagonal prisms united together by pyramidal bases\nformed of three rhombs; and the rhombs and the sides of the hexagonal\nprisms will have every angle identically the same with the best\nmeasurements which have been made of the cells of the hive-bee.\n\nHence we may safely conclude that if we could slightly modify the\ninstincts already possessed by the Melipona, and in themselves not very\nwonderful, this bee would make a structure as wonderfully perfect as\nthat of the hive-bee. We must suppose the Melipona to make her cells\ntruly spherical, and of equal sizes; and this would not be very\nsurprising, seeing that she already does so to a certain extent, and\nseeing what perfectly cylindrical burrows in wood many insects can\nmake, apparently by turning round on a fixed point. We must suppose the\nMelipona to arrange her cells in level layers, as she already does her\ncylindrical cells; and we must further suppose, and this is the greatest\ndifficulty, that she can somehow judge accurately at what distance to\nstand from her fellow-labourers when several are making their spheres;\nbut she is already so far enabled to judge of distance, that she always\ndescribes her spheres so as to intersect largely; and then she unites\nthe points of intersection by perfectly flat surfaces. We have further\nto suppose, but this is no difficulty, that after hexagonal prisms have\nbeen formed by the intersection of adjoining spheres in the same layer,\nshe can prolong the hexagon to any length requisite to hold the stock of\nhoney; in the same way as the rude humble-bee adds cylinders of wax\nto the circular mouths of her old cocoons. By such modifications of\ninstincts in themselves not very wonderful,--hardly more wonderful than\nthose which guide a bird to make its nest,--I believe that the hive-bee\nhas acquired, through natural selection, her inimitable architectural\npowers.\n\nBut this theory can be tested by experiment. Following the example of\nMr. Tegetmeier, I separated two combs, and put between them a long,\nthick, square strip of wax: the bees instantly began to excavate minute\ncircular pits in it; and as they deepened these little pits, they made\nthem wider and wider until they were converted into shallow basins,\nappearing to the eye perfectly true or parts of a sphere, and of about\nthe diameter of a cell. It was most interesting to me to observe that\nwherever several bees had begun to excavate these basins near together,\nthey had begun their work at such a distance from each other, that by\nthe time the basins had acquired the above stated width (i.e. about the\nwidth of an ordinary cell), and were in depth about one sixth of the\ndiameter of the sphere of which they formed a part, the rims of the\nbasins intersected or broke into each other. As soon as this occurred,\nthe bees ceased to excavate, and began to build up flat walls of wax\non the lines of intersection between the basins, so that each hexagonal\nprism was built upon the festooned edge of a smooth basin, instead of on\nthe straight edges of a three-sided pyramid as in the case of ordinary\ncells.\n\nI then put into the hive, instead of a thick, square piece of wax, a\nthin and narrow, knife-edged ridge, coloured with vermilion. The bees\ninstantly began on both sides to excavate little basins near to each\nother, in the same way as before; but the ridge of wax was so thin, that\nthe bottoms of the basins, if they had been excavated to the same depth\nas in the former experiment, would have broken into each other from the\nopposite sides. The bees, however, did not suffer this to happen, and\nthey stopped their excavations in due time; so that the basins, as soon\nas they had been a little deepened, came to have flat bottoms; and these\nflat bottoms, formed by thin little plates of the vermilion wax having\nbeen left ungnawed, were situated, as far as the eye could judge,\nexactly along the planes of imaginary intersection between the basins on\nthe opposite sides of the ridge of wax. In parts, only little bits, in\nother parts, large portions of a rhombic plate had been left between the\nopposed basins, but the work, from the unnatural state of things, had\nnot been neatly performed. The bees must have worked at very nearly the\nsame rate on the opposite sides of the ridge of vermilion wax, as they\ncircularly gnawed away and deepened the basins on both sides, in order\nto have succeeded in thus leaving flat plates between the basins, by\nstopping work along the intermediate planes or planes of intersection.\n\nConsidering how flexible thin wax is, I do not see that there is any\ndifficulty in the bees, whilst at work on the two sides of a strip\nof wax, perceiving when they have gnawed the wax away to the proper\nthinness, and then stopping their work. In ordinary combs it has\nappeared to me that the bees do not always succeed in working at exactly\nthe same rate from the opposite sides; for I have noticed half-completed\nrhombs at the base of a just-commenced cell, which were slightly concave\non one side, where I suppose that the bees had excavated too quickly,\nand convex on the opposed side, where the bees had worked less quickly.\nIn one well-marked instance, I put the comb back into the hive, and\nallowed the bees to go on working for a short time, and again examined\nthe cell, and I found that the rhombic plate had been completed, and had\nbecome PERFECTLY FLAT: it was absolutely impossible, from the extreme\nthinness of the little rhombic plate, that they could have effected this\nby gnawing away the convex side; and I suspect that the bees in such\ncases stand in the opposed cells and push and bend the ductile and warm\nwax (which as I have tried is easily done) into its proper intermediate\nplane, and thus flatten it.\n\nFrom the experiment of the ridge of vermilion wax, we can clearly see\nthat if the bees were to build for themselves a thin wall of wax, they\ncould make their cells of the proper shape, by standing at the proper\ndistance from each other, by excavating at the same rate, and by\nendeavouring to make equal spherical hollows, but never allowing the\nspheres to break into each other. Now bees, as may be clearly seen by\nexamining the edge of a growing comb, do make a rough, circumferential\nwall or rim all round the comb; and they gnaw into this from the\nopposite sides, always working circularly as they deepen each cell. They\ndo not make the whole three-sided pyramidal base of any one cell at the\nsame time, but only the one rhombic plate which stands on the extreme\ngrowing margin, or the two plates, as the case may be; and they never\ncomplete the upper edges of the rhombic plates, until the hexagonal\nwalls are commenced. Some of these statements differ from those made by\nthe justly celebrated elder Huber, but I am convinced of their accuracy;\nand if I had space, I could show that they are conformable with my\ntheory.\n\nHuber's statement that the very first cell is excavated out of a little\nparallel-sided wall of wax, is not, as far as I have seen, strictly\ncorrect; the first commencement having always been a little hood of wax;\nbut I will not here enter on these details. We see how important a part\nexcavation plays in the construction of the cells; but it would be a\ngreat error to suppose that the bees cannot build up a rough wall of wax\nin the proper position--that is, along the plane of intersection between\ntwo adjoining spheres. I have several specimens showing clearly that\nthey can do this. Even in the rude circumferential rim or wall of wax\nround a growing comb, flexures may sometimes be observed, corresponding\nin position to the planes of the rhombic basal plates of future cells.\nBut the rough wall of wax has in every case to be finished off, by being\nlargely gnawed away on both sides. The manner in which the bees build is\ncurious; they always make the first rough wall from ten to twenty times\nthicker than the excessively thin finished wall of the cell, which will\nultimately be left. We shall understand how they work, by supposing\nmasons first to pile up a broad ridge of cement, and then to begin\ncutting it away equally on both sides near the ground, till a smooth,\nvery thin wall is left in the middle; the masons always piling up the\ncut-away cement, and adding fresh cement, on the summit of the ridge. We\nshall thus have a thin wall steadily growing upward; but always crowned\nby a gigantic coping. From all the cells, both those just commenced and\nthose completed, being thus crowned by a strong coping of wax, the\nbees can cluster and crawl over the comb without injuring the delicate\nhexagonal walls, which are only about one four-hundredth of an inch in\nthickness; the plates of the pyramidal basis being about twice as thick.\nBy this singular manner of building, strength is continually given to\nthe comb, with the utmost ultimate economy of wax.\n\nIt seems at first to add to the difficulty of understanding how the\ncells are made, that a multitude of bees all work together; one bee\nafter working a short time at one cell going to another, so that, as\nHuber has stated, a score of individuals work even at the commencement\nof the first cell. I was able practically to show this fact, by covering\nthe edges of the hexagonal walls of a single cell, or the extreme margin\nof the circumferential rim of a growing comb, with an extremely thin\nlayer of melted vermilion wax; and I invariably found that the colour\nwas most delicately diffused by the bees--as delicately as a painter\ncould have done with his brush--by atoms of the coloured wax having been\ntaken from the spot on which it had been placed, and worked into the\ngrowing edges of the cells all round. The work of construction seems\nto be a sort of balance struck between many bees, all instinctively\nstanding at the same relative distance from each other, all trying to\nsweep equal spheres, and then building up, or leaving ungnawed, the\nplanes of intersection between these spheres. It was really curious to\nnote in cases of difficulty, as when two pieces of comb met at an angle,\nhow often the bees would entirely pull down and rebuild in different\nways the same cell, sometimes recurring to a shape which they had at\nfirst rejected.\n\nWhen bees have a place on which they can stand in their proper positions\nfor working,--for instance, on a slip of wood, placed directly under the\nmiddle of a comb growing downwards so that the comb has to be built over\none face of the slip--in this case the bees can lay the foundations\nof one wall of a new hexagon, in its strictly proper place, projecting\nbeyond the other completed cells. It suffices that the bees should be\nenabled to stand at their proper relative distances from each other\nand from the walls of the last completed cells, and then, by striking\nimaginary spheres, they can build up a wall intermediate between two\nadjoining spheres; but, as far as I have seen, they never gnaw away and\nfinish off the angles of a cell till a large part both of that cell and\nof the adjoining cells has been built. This capacity in bees of laying\ndown under certain circumstances a rough wall in its proper place\nbetween two just-commenced cells, is important, as it bears on a fact,\nwhich seems at first quite subversive of the foregoing theory; namely,\nthat the cells on the extreme margin of wasp-combs are sometimes\nstrictly hexagonal; but I have not space here to enter on this subject.\nNor does there seem to me any great difficulty in a single insect (as\nin the case of a queen-wasp) making hexagonal cells, if she work\nalternately on the inside and outside of two or three cells commenced at\nthe same time, always standing at the proper relative distance from\nthe parts of the cells just begun, sweeping spheres or cylinders, and\nbuilding up intermediate planes. It is even conceivable that an insect\nmight, by fixing on a point at which to commence a cell, and then moving\noutside, first to one point, and then to five other points, at the\nproper relative distances from the central point and from each other,\nstrike the planes of intersection, and so make an isolated hexagon: but\nI am not aware that any such case has been observed; nor would any good\nbe derived from a single hexagon being built, as in its construction\nmore materials would be required than for a cylinder.\n\nAs natural selection acts only by the accumulation of slight\nmodifications of structure or instinct, each profitable to the\nindividual under its conditions of life, it may reasonably be asked, how\na long and graduated succession of modified architectural instincts,\nall tending towards the present perfect plan of construction, could\nhave profited the progenitors of the hive-bee? I think the answer is\nnot difficult: it is known that bees are often hard pressed to get\nsufficient nectar; and I am informed by Mr. Tegetmeier that it has been\nexperimentally found that no less than from twelve to fifteen pounds of\ndry sugar are consumed by a hive of bees for the secretion of each pound\nof wax; so that a prodigious quantity of fluid nectar must be collected\nand consumed by the bees in a hive for the secretion of the wax\nnecessary for the construction of their combs. Moreover, many bees have\nto remain idle for many days during the process of secretion. A large\nstore of honey is indispensable to support a large stock of bees during\nthe winter; and the security of the hive is known mainly to depend on a\nlarge number of bees being supported. Hence the saving of wax by largely\nsaving honey must be a most important element of success in any family\nof bees. Of course the success of any species of bee may be dependent\non the number of its parasites or other enemies, or on quite distinct\ncauses, and so be altogether independent of the quantity of honey which\nthe bees could collect. But let us suppose that this latter circumstance\ndetermined, as it probably often does determine, the numbers of a\nhumble-bee which could exist in a country; and let us further suppose\nthat the community lived throughout the winter, and consequently\nrequired a store of honey: there can in this case be no doubt that it\nwould be an advantage to our humble-bee, if a slight modification of\nher instinct led her to make her waxen cells near together, so as to\nintersect a little; for a wall in common even to two adjoining cells,\nwould save some little wax. Hence it would continually be more and more\nadvantageous to our humble-bee, if she were to make her cells more and\nmore regular, nearer together, and aggregated into a mass, like the\ncells of the Melipona; for in this case a large part of the bounding\nsurface of each cell would serve to bound other cells, and much wax\nwould be saved. Again, from the same cause, it would be advantageous to\nthe Melipona, if she were to make her cells closer together, and more\nregular in every way than at present; for then, as we have seen, the\nspherical surfaces would wholly disappear, and would all be replaced by\nplane surfaces; and the Melipona would make a comb as perfect as that of\nthe hive-bee. Beyond this stage of perfection in architecture, natural\nselection could not lead; for the comb of the hive-bee, as far as we can\nsee, is absolutely perfect in economising wax.\n\nThus, as I believe, the most wonderful of all known instincts, that\nof the hive-bee, can be explained by natural selection having taken\nadvantage of numerous, successive, slight modifications of simpler\ninstincts; natural selection having by slow degrees, more and more\nperfectly, led the bees to sweep equal spheres at a given distance from\neach other in a double layer, and to build up and excavate the wax along\nthe planes of intersection. The bees, of course, no more knowing that\nthey swept their spheres at one particular distance from each other,\nthan they know what are the several angles of the hexagonal prisms and\nof the basal rhombic plates. The motive power of the process of natural\nselection having been economy of wax; that individual swarm which wasted\nleast honey in the secretion of wax, having succeeded best, and having\ntransmitted by inheritance its newly acquired economical instinct to new\nswarms, which in their turn will have had the best chance of succeeding\nin the struggle for existence.\n\nNo doubt many instincts of very difficult explanation could be opposed\nto the theory of natural selection,--cases, in which we cannot see\nhow an instinct could possibly have originated; cases, in which no\nintermediate gradations are known to exist; cases of instinct of\napparently such trifling importance, that they could hardly have been\nacted on by natural selection; cases of instincts almost identically the\nsame in animals so remote in the scale of nature, that we cannot account\nfor their similarity by inheritance from a common parent, and must\ntherefore believe that they have been acquired by independent acts of\nnatural selection. I will not here enter on these several cases, but\nwill confine myself to one special difficulty, which at first appeared\nto me insuperable, and actually fatal to my whole theory. I allude to\nthe neuters or sterile females in insect-communities: for these neuters\noften differ widely in instinct and in structure from both the males\nand fertile females, and yet, from being sterile, they cannot propagate\ntheir kind.\n\nThe subject well deserves to be discussed at great length, but I will\nhere take only a single case, that of working or sterile ants. How the\nworkers have been rendered sterile is a difficulty; but not much greater\nthan that of any other striking modification of structure; for it can\nbe shown that some insects and other articulate animals in a state of\nnature occasionally become sterile; and if such insects had been social,\nand it had been profitable to the community that a number should have\nbeen annually born capable of work, but incapable of procreation, I\ncan see no very great difficulty in this being effected by natural\nselection. But I must pass over this preliminary difficulty. The great\ndifficulty lies in the working ants differing widely from both the males\nand the fertile females in structure, as in the shape of the thorax and\nin being destitute of wings and sometimes of eyes, and in instinct. As\nfar as instinct alone is concerned, the prodigious difference in this\nrespect between the workers and the perfect females, would have been\nfar better exemplified by the hive-bee. If a working ant or other\nneuter insect had been an animal in the ordinary state, I should have\nunhesitatingly assumed that all its characters had been slowly acquired\nthrough natural selection; namely, by an individual having been born\nwith some slight profitable modification of structure, this being\ninherited by its offspring, which again varied and were again selected,\nand so onwards. But with the working ant we have an insect differing\ngreatly from its parents, yet absolutely sterile; so that it could never\nhave transmitted successively acquired modifications of structure or\ninstinct to its progeny. It may well be asked how is it possible to\nreconcile this case with the theory of natural selection?\n\nFirst, let it be remembered that we have innumerable instances, both in\nour domestic productions and in those in a state of nature, of all sorts\nof differences of structure which have become correlated to certain\nages, and to either sex. We have differences correlated not only to\none sex, but to that short period alone when the reproductive system is\nactive, as in the nuptial plumage of many birds, and in the hooked jaws\nof the male salmon. We have even slight differences in the horns of\ndifferent breeds of cattle in relation to an artificially imperfect\nstate of the male sex; for oxen of certain breeds have longer horns than\nin other breeds, in comparison with the horns of the bulls or cows of\nthese same breeds. Hence I can see no real difficulty in any character\nhaving become correlated with the sterile condition of certain members\nof insect-communities: the difficulty lies in understanding how such\ncorrelated modifications of structure could have been slowly accumulated\nby natural selection.\n\nThis difficulty, though appearing insuperable, is lessened, or, as I\nbelieve, disappears, when it is remembered that selection may be applied\nto the family, as well as to the individual, and may thus gain the\ndesired end. Thus, a well-flavoured vegetable is cooked, and the\nindividual is destroyed; but the horticulturist sows seeds of the same\nstock, and confidently expects to get nearly the same variety; breeders\nof cattle wish the flesh and fat to be well marbled together; the animal\nhas been slaughtered, but the breeder goes with confidence to the same\nfamily. I have such faith in the powers of selection, that I do not\ndoubt that a breed of cattle, always yielding oxen with extraordinarily\nlong horns, could be slowly formed by carefully watching which\nindividual bulls and cows, when matched, produced oxen with the longest\nhorns; and yet no one ox could ever have propagated its kind. Thus\nI believe it has been with social insects: a slight modification of\nstructure, or instinct, correlated with the sterile condition of certain\nmembers of the community, has been advantageous to the community:\nconsequently the fertile males and females of the same community\nflourished, and transmitted to their fertile offspring a tendency to\nproduce sterile members having the same modification. And I believe\nthat this process has been repeated, until that prodigious amount of\ndifference between the fertile and sterile females of the same species\nhas been produced, which we see in many social insects.\n\nBut we have not as yet touched on the climax of the difficulty; namely,\nthe fact that the neuters of several ants differ, not only from the\nfertile females and males, but from each other, sometimes to an almost\nincredible degree, and are thus divided into two or even three castes.\nThe castes, moreover, do not generally graduate into each other, but are\nperfectly well defined; being as distinct from each other, as are any\ntwo species of the same genus, or rather as any two genera of the same\nfamily. Thus in Eciton, there are working and soldier neuters, with jaws\nand instincts extraordinarily different: in Cryptocerus, the workers of\none caste alone carry a wonderful sort of shield on their heads, the use\nof which is quite unknown: in the Mexican Myrmecocystus, the workers of\none caste never leave the nest; they are fed by the workers of another\ncaste, and they have an enormously developed abdomen which secretes a\nsort of honey, supplying the place of that excreted by the aphides, or\nthe domestic cattle as they may be called, which our European ants guard\nor imprison.\n\nIt will indeed be thought that I have an overweening confidence in the\nprinciple of natural selection, when I do not admit that such wonderful\nand well-established facts at once annihilate my theory. In the simpler\ncase of neuter insects all of one caste or of the same kind, which have\nbeen rendered by natural selection, as I believe to be quite possible,\ndifferent from the fertile males and females,--in this case, we may\nsafely conclude from the analogy of ordinary variations, that each\nsuccessive, slight, profitable modification did not probably at first\nappear in all the individual neuters in the same nest, but in a few\nalone; and that by the long-continued selection of the fertile parents\nwhich produced most neuters with the profitable modification, all the\nneuters ultimately came to have the desired character. On this view we\nought occasionally to find neuter-insects of the same species, in the\nsame nest, presenting gradations of structure; and this we do find,\neven often, considering how few neuter-insects out of Europe have been\ncarefully examined. Mr. F. Smith has shown how surprisingly the neuters\nof several British ants differ from each other in size and sometimes\nin colour; and that the extreme forms can sometimes be perfectly linked\ntogether by individuals taken out of the same nest: I have myself\ncompared perfect gradations of this kind. It often happens that the\nlarger or the smaller sized workers are the most numerous; or that both\nlarge and small are numerous, with those of an intermediate size scanty\nin numbers. Formica flava has larger and smaller workers, with some of\nintermediate size; and, in this species, as Mr. F. Smith has observed,\nthe larger workers have simple eyes (ocelli), which though small can\nbe plainly distinguished, whereas the smaller workers have their ocelli\nrudimentary. Having carefully dissected several specimens of these\nworkers, I can affirm that the eyes are far more rudimentary in the\nsmaller workers than can be accounted for merely by their proportionally\nlesser size; and I fully believe, though I dare not assert so\npositively, that the workers of intermediate size have their ocelli in\nan exactly intermediate condition. So that we here have two bodies of\nsterile workers in the same nest, differing not only in size, but\nin their organs of vision, yet connected by some few members in an\nintermediate condition. I may digress by adding, that if the smaller\nworkers had been the most useful to the community, and those males and\nfemales had been continually selected, which produced more and more\nof the smaller workers, until all the workers had come to be in this\ncondition; we should then have had a species of ant with neuters very\nnearly in the same condition with those of Myrmica. For the workers of\nMyrmica have not even rudiments of ocelli, though the male and female\nants of this genus have well-developed ocelli.\n\nI may give one other case: so confidently did I expect to find\ngradations in important points of structure between the different castes\nof neuters in the same species, that I gladly availed myself of Mr. F.\nSmith's offer of numerous specimens from the same nest of the driver\nant (Anomma) of West Africa. The reader will perhaps best appreciate\nthe amount of difference in these workers, by my giving not the actual\nmeasurements, but a strictly accurate illustration: the difference was\nthe same as if we were to see a set of workmen building a house of whom\nmany were five feet four inches high, and many sixteen feet high; but\nwe must suppose that the larger workmen had heads four instead of three\ntimes as big as those of the smaller men, and jaws nearly five times\nas big. The jaws, moreover, of the working ants of the several sizes\ndiffered wonderfully in shape, and in the form and number of the teeth.\nBut the important fact for us is, that though the workers can be grouped\ninto castes of different sizes, yet they graduate insensibly into each\nother, as does the widely-different structure of their jaws. I speak\nconfidently on this latter point, as Mr. Lubbock made drawings for\nme with the camera lucida of the jaws which I had dissected from the\nworkers of the several sizes.\n\nWith these facts before me, I believe that natural selection, by acting\non the fertile parents, could form a species which should regularly\nproduce neuters, either all of large size with one form of jaw, or all\nof small size with jaws having a widely different structure; or lastly,\nand this is our climax of difficulty, one set of workers of one size and\nstructure, and simultaneously another set of workers of a different size\nand structure;--a graduated series having been first formed, as in the\ncase of the driver ant, and then the extreme forms, from being the most\nuseful to the community, having been produced in greater and greater\nnumbers through the natural selection of the parents which generated\nthem; until none with an intermediate structure were produced.\n\nThus, as I believe, the wonderful fact of two distinctly defined castes\nof sterile workers existing in the same nest, both widely different from\neach other and from their parents, has originated. We can see how useful\ntheir production may have been to a social community of insects, on the\nsame principle that the division of labour is useful to civilised man.\nAs ants work by inherited instincts and by inherited tools or weapons,\nand not by acquired knowledge and manufactured instruments, a perfect\ndivision of labour could be effected with them only by the workers being\nsterile; for had they been fertile, they would have intercrossed, and\ntheir instincts and structure would have become blended. And nature\nhas, as I believe, effected this admirable division of labour in the\ncommunities of ants, by the means of natural selection. But I am bound\nto confess, that, with all my faith in this principle, I should never\nhave anticipated that natural selection could have been efficient in so\nhigh a degree, had not the case of these neuter insects convinced me\nof the fact. I have, therefore, discussed this case, at some little\nbut wholly insufficient length, in order to show the power of natural\nselection, and likewise because this is by far the most serious special\ndifficulty, which my theory has encountered. The case, also, is very\ninteresting, as it proves that with animals, as with plants, any amount\nof modification in structure can be effected by the accumulation of\nnumerous, slight, and as we must call them accidental, variations, which\nare in any manner profitable, without exercise or habit having come into\nplay. For no amount of exercise, or habit, or volition, in the utterly\nsterile members of a community could possibly have affected the\nstructure or instincts of the fertile members, which alone leave\ndescendants. I am surprised that no one has advanced this demonstrative\ncase of neuter insects, against the well-known doctrine of Lamarck.\n\nSUMMARY.\n\nI have endeavoured briefly in this chapter to show that the mental\nqualities of our domestic animals vary, and that the variations are\ninherited. Still more briefly I have attempted to show that instincts\nvary slightly in a state of nature. No one will dispute that instincts\nare of the highest importance to each animal. Therefore I can see no\ndifficulty, under changing conditions of life, in natural selection\naccumulating slight modifications of instinct to any extent, in any\nuseful direction. In some cases habit or use and disuse have probably\ncome into play. I do not pretend that the facts given in this chapter\nstrengthen in any great degree my theory; but none of the cases of\ndifficulty, to the best of my judgment, annihilate it. On the other\nhand, the fact that instincts are not always absolutely perfect and\nare liable to mistakes;--that no instinct has been produced for the\nexclusive good of other animals, but that each animal takes advantage of\nthe instincts of others;--that the canon in natural history, of \"natura\nnon facit saltum\" is applicable to instincts as well as to corporeal\nstructure, and is plainly explicable on the foregoing views, but is\notherwise inexplicable,--all tend to corroborate the theory of natural\nselection.\n\nThis theory is, also, strengthened by some few other facts in regard\nto instincts; as by that common case of closely allied, but certainly\ndistinct, species, when inhabiting distant parts of the world and living\nunder considerably different conditions of life, yet often retaining\nnearly the same instincts. For instance, we can understand on the\nprinciple of inheritance, how it is that the thrush of South America\nlines its nest with mud, in the same peculiar manner as does our British\nthrush: how it is that the male wrens (Troglodytes) of North America,\nbuild \"cock-nests,\" to roost in, like the males of our distinct\nKitty-wrens,--a habit wholly unlike that of any other known bird.\nFinally, it may not be a logical deduction, but to my imagination it\nis far more satisfactory to look at such instincts as the young cuckoo\nejecting its foster-brothers,--ants making slaves,--the larvae of\nichneumonidae feeding within the live bodies of caterpillars,--not as\nspecially endowed or created instincts, but as small consequences of one\ngeneral law, leading to the advancement of all organic beings, namely,\nmultiply, vary, let the strongest live and the weakest die.\n\n\n\n\n8. HYBRIDISM.\n\nDistinction between the sterility of first crosses and of hybrids.\nSterility various in degree, not universal, affected by close\ninterbreeding, removed by domestication. Laws governing the sterility\nof hybrids. Sterility not a special endowment, but incidental on other\ndifferences. Causes of the sterility of first crosses and of hybrids.\nParallelism between the effects of changed conditions of life and\ncrossing. Fertility of varieties when crossed and of their mongrel\noffspring not universal. Hybrids and mongrels compared independently of\ntheir fertility. Summary.\n\nThe view generally entertained by naturalists is that species, when\nintercrossed, have been specially endowed with the quality of sterility,\nin order to prevent the confusion of all organic forms. This view\ncertainly seems at first probable, for species within the same country\ncould hardly have kept distinct had they been capable of crossing\nfreely. The importance of the fact that hybrids are very generally\nsterile, has, I think, been much underrated by some late writers. On the\ntheory of natural selection the case is especially important, inasmuch\nas the sterility of hybrids could not possibly be of any advantage\nto them, and therefore could not have been acquired by the continued\npreservation of successive profitable degrees of sterility. I hope,\nhowever, to be able to show that sterility is not a specially acquired\nor endowed quality, but is incidental on other acquired differences.\n\nIn treating this subject, two classes of facts, to a large extent\nfundamentally different, have generally been confounded together;\nnamely, the sterility of two species when first crossed, and the\nsterility of the hybrids produced from them.\n\nPure species have of course their organs of reproduction in a perfect\ncondition, yet when intercrossed they produce either few or no\noffspring. Hybrids, on the other hand, have their reproductive organs\nfunctionally impotent, as may be clearly seen in the state of the male\nelement in both plants and animals; though the organs themselves are\nperfect in structure, as far as the microscope reveals. In the first\ncase the two sexual elements which go to form the embryo are perfect; in\nthe second case they are either not at all developed, or are imperfectly\ndeveloped. This distinction is important, when the cause of the\nsterility, which is common to the two cases, has to be considered. The\ndistinction has probably been slurred over, owing to the sterility in\nboth cases being looked on as a special endowment, beyond the province\nof our reasoning powers.\n\nThe fertility of varieties, that is of the forms known or believed to\nhave descended from common parents, when intercrossed, and likewise\nthe fertility of their mongrel offspring, is, on my theory, of equal\nimportance with the sterility of species; for it seems to make a broad\nand clear distinction between varieties and species.\n\nFirst, for the sterility of species when crossed and of their hybrid\noffspring. It is impossible to study the several memoirs and works of\nthose two conscientious and admirable observers, Kolreuter and Gartner,\nwho almost devoted their lives to this subject, without being deeply\nimpressed with the high generality of some degree of sterility.\nKolreuter makes the rule universal; but then he cuts the knot, for in\nten cases in which he found two forms, considered by most authors as\ndistinct species, quite fertile together, he unhesitatingly ranks them\nas varieties. Gartner, also, makes the rule equally universal; and he\ndisputes the entire fertility of Kolreuter's ten cases. But in these and\nin many other cases, Gartner is obliged carefully to count the seeds, in\norder to show that there is any degree of sterility. He always compares\nthe maximum number of seeds produced by two species when crossed and by\ntheir hybrid offspring, with the average number produced by both pure\nparent-species in a state of nature. But a serious cause of error seems\nto me to be here introduced: a plant to be hybridised must be castrated,\nand, what is often more important, must be secluded in order to prevent\npollen being brought to it by insects from other plants. Nearly all the\nplants experimentised on by Gartner were potted, and apparently were\nkept in a chamber in his house. That these processes are often injurious\nto the fertility of a plant cannot be doubted; for Gartner gives in\nhis table about a score of cases of plants which he castrated, and\nartificially fertilised with their own pollen, and (excluding all cases\nsuch as the Leguminosae, in which there is an acknowledged difficulty\nin the manipulation) half of these twenty plants had their fertility\nin some degree impaired. Moreover, as Gartner during several years\nrepeatedly crossed the primrose and cowslip, which we have such good\nreason to believe to be varieties, and only once or twice succeeded in\ngetting fertile seed; as he found the common red and blue pimpernels\n(Anagallis arvensis and coerulea), which the best botanists rank as\nvarieties, absolutely sterile together; and as he came to the same\nconclusion in several other analogous cases; it seems to me that we\nmay well be permitted to doubt whether many other species are really so\nsterile, when intercrossed, as Gartner believes.\n\nIt is certain, on the one hand, that the sterility of various species\nwhen crossed is so different in degree and graduates away so insensibly,\nand, on the other hand, that the fertility of pure species is so easily\naffected by various circumstances, that for all practical purposes it is\nmost difficult to say where perfect fertility ends and sterility begins.\nI think no better evidence of this can be required than that the two\nmost experienced observers who have ever lived, namely, Kolreuter and\nGartner, should have arrived at diametrically opposite conclusions\nin regard to the very same species. It is also most instructive to\ncompare--but I have not space here to enter on details--the evidence\nadvanced by our best botanists on the question whether certain doubtful\nforms should be ranked as species or varieties, with the evidence from\nfertility adduced by different hybridisers, or by the same author,\nfrom experiments made during different years. It can thus be shown that\nneither sterility nor fertility affords any clear distinction between\nspecies and varieties; but that the evidence from this source graduates\naway, and is doubtful in the same degree as is the evidence derived from\nother constitutional and structural differences.\n\nIn regard to the sterility of hybrids in successive generations; though\nGartner was enabled to rear some hybrids, carefully guarding them from a\ncross with either pure parent, for six or seven, and in one case for\nten generations, yet he asserts positively that their fertility never\nincreased, but generally greatly decreased. I do not doubt that this is\nusually the case, and that the fertility often suddenly decreases in\nthe first few generations. Nevertheless I believe that in all these\nexperiments the fertility has been diminished by an independent cause,\nnamely, from close interbreeding. I have collected so large a body of\nfacts, showing that close interbreeding lessens fertility, and, on\nthe other hand, that an occasional cross with a distinct individual or\nvariety increases fertility, that I cannot doubt the correctness of this\nalmost universal belief amongst breeders. Hybrids are seldom raised by\nexperimentalists in great numbers; and as the parent-species, or other\nallied hybrids, generally grow in the same garden, the visits of insects\nmust be carefully prevented during the flowering season: hence hybrids\nwill generally be fertilised during each generation by their own\nindividual pollen; and I am convinced that this would be injurious\nto their fertility, already lessened by their hybrid origin. I am\nstrengthened in this conviction by a remarkable statement repeatedly\nmade by Gartner, namely, that if even the less fertile hybrids be\nartificially fertilised with hybrid pollen of the same kind, their\nfertility, notwithstanding the frequent ill effects of manipulation,\nsometimes decidedly increases, and goes on increasing. Now, in\nartificial fertilisation pollen is as often taken by chance (as I know\nfrom my own experience) from the anthers of another flower, as from the\nanthers of the flower itself which is to be fertilised; so that a cross\nbetween two flowers, though probably on the same plant, would be thus\neffected. Moreover, whenever complicated experiments are in progress,\nso careful an observer as Gartner would have castrated his hybrids, and\nthis would have insured in each generation a cross with the pollen from\na distinct flower, either from the same plant or from another plant of\nthe same hybrid nature. And thus, the strange fact of the increase\nof fertility in the successive generations of ARTIFICIALLY FERTILISED\nhybrids may, I believe, be accounted for by close interbreeding having\nbeen avoided.\n\nNow let us turn to the results arrived at by the third most experienced\nhybridiser, namely, the Honourable and Reverend W. Herbert. He is as\nemphatic in his conclusion that some hybrids are perfectly fertile--as\nfertile as the pure parent-species--as are Kolreuter and Gartner that\nsome degree of sterility between distinct species is a universal law\nof nature. He experimentised on some of the very same species as did\nGartner. The difference in their results may, I think, be in part\naccounted for by Herbert's great horticultural skill, and by his having\nhothouses at his command. Of his many important statements I will here\ngive only a single one as an example, namely, that \"every ovule in a pod\nof Crinum capense fertilised by C. revolutum produced a plant, which\n(he says) I never saw to occur in a case of its natural fecundation.\" So\nthat we here have perfect, or even more than commonly perfect, fertility\nin a first cross between two distinct species.\n\nThis case of the Crinum leads me to refer to a most singular fact,\nnamely, that there are individual plants, as with certain species of\nLobelia, and with all the species of the genus Hippeastrum, which can\nbe far more easily fertilised by the pollen of another and distinct\nspecies, than by their own pollen. For these plants have been found to\nyield seed to the pollen of a distinct species, though quite sterile\nwith their own pollen, notwithstanding that their own pollen was found\nto be perfectly good, for it fertilised distinct species. So that\ncertain individual plants and all the individuals of certain species\ncan actually be hybridised much more readily than they can be\nself-fertilised! For instance, a bulb of Hippeastrum aulicum produced\nfour flowers; three were fertilised by Herbert with their own pollen,\nand the fourth was subsequently fertilised by the pollen of a compound\nhybrid descended from three other and distinct species: the result was\nthat \"the ovaries of the three first flowers soon ceased to grow, and\nafter a few days perished entirely, whereas the pod impregnated by\nthe pollen of the hybrid made vigorous growth and rapid progress to\nmaturity, and bore good seed, which vegetated freely.\" In a letter to\nme, in 1839, Mr. Herbert told me that he had then tried the experiment\nduring five years, and he continued to try it during several subsequent\nyears, and always with the same result. This result has, also, been\nconfirmed by other observers in the case of Hippeastrum with its\nsub-genera, and in the case of some other genera, as Lobelia, Passiflora\nand Verbascum. Although the plants in these experiments appeared\nperfectly healthy, and although both the ovules and pollen of the same\nflower were perfectly good with respect to other species, yet as they\nwere functionally imperfect in their mutual self-action, we must infer\nthat the plants were in an unnatural state. Nevertheless these facts\nshow on what slight and mysterious causes the lesser or greater\nfertility of species when crossed, in comparison with the same species\nwhen self-fertilised, sometimes depends.\n\nThe practical experiments of horticulturists, though not made with\nscientific precision, deserve some notice. It is notorious in how\ncomplicated a manner the species of Pelargonium, Fuchsia, Calceolaria,\nPetunia, Rhododendron, etc., have been crossed, yet many of these\nhybrids seed freely. For instance, Herbert asserts that a hybrid from\nCalceolaria integrifolia and plantaginea, species most widely dissimilar\nin general habit, \"reproduced itself as perfectly as if it had been a\nnatural species from the mountains of Chile.\" I have taken some pains\nto ascertain the degree of fertility of some of the complex crosses of\nRhododendrons, and I am assured that many of them are perfectly fertile.\nMr. C. Noble, for instance, informs me that he raises stocks for\ngrafting from a hybrid between Rhododendron Ponticum and Catawbiense,\nand that this hybrid \"seeds as freely as it is possible to imagine.\" Had\nhybrids, when fairly treated, gone on decreasing in fertility in each\nsuccessive generation, as Gartner believes to be the case, the fact\nwould have been notorious to nurserymen. Horticulturists raise large\nbeds of the same hybrids, and such alone are fairly treated, for by\ninsect agency the several individuals of the same hybrid variety are\nallowed to freely cross with each other, and the injurious influence\nof close interbreeding is thus prevented. Any one may readily convince\nhimself of the efficiency of insect-agency by examining the flowers of\nthe more sterile kinds of hybrid rhododendrons, which produce no pollen,\nfor he will find on their stigmas plenty of pollen brought from other\nflowers.\n\nIn regard to animals, much fewer experiments have been carefully tried\nthan with plants. If our systematic arrangements can be trusted, that\nis if the genera of animals are as distinct from each other, as are the\ngenera of plants, then we may infer that animals more widely separated\nin the scale of nature can be more easily crossed than in the case of\nplants; but the hybrids themselves are, I think, more sterile. I doubt\nwhether any case of a perfectly fertile hybrid animal can be considered\nas thoroughly well authenticated. It should, however, be borne in\nmind that, owing to few animals breeding freely under confinement, few\nexperiments have been fairly tried: for instance, the canary-bird has\nbeen crossed with nine other finches, but as not one of these nine\nspecies breeds freely in confinement, we have no right to expect that\nthe first crosses between them and the canary, or that their hybrids,\nshould be perfectly fertile. Again, with respect to the fertility in\nsuccessive generations of the more fertile hybrid animals, I hardly know\nof an instance in which two families of the same hybrid have been raised\nat the same time from different parents, so as to avoid the ill effects\nof close interbreeding. On the contrary, brothers and sisters have\nusually been crossed in each successive generation, in opposition to the\nconstantly repeated admonition of every breeder. And in this case, it is\nnot at all surprising that the inherent sterility in the hybrids should\nhave gone on increasing. If we were to act thus, and pair brothers and\nsisters in the case of any pure animal, which from any cause had the\nleast tendency to sterility, the breed would assuredly be lost in a very\nfew generations.\n\nAlthough I do not know of any thoroughly well-authenticated cases of\nperfectly fertile hybrid animals, I have some reason to believe that\nthe hybrids from Cervulus vaginalis and Reevesii, and from Phasianus\ncolchicus with P. torquatus and with P. versicolor are perfectly\nfertile. The hybrids from the common and Chinese geese (A. cygnoides),\nspecies which are so different that they are generally ranked in\ndistinct genera, have often bred in this country with either pure\nparent, and in one single instance they have bred inter se. This was\neffected by Mr. Eyton, who raised two hybrids from the same parents but\nfrom different hatches; and from these two birds he raised no less than\neight hybrids (grandchildren of the pure geese) from one nest. In India,\nhowever, these cross-bred geese must be far more fertile; for I am\nassured by two eminently capable judges, namely Mr. Blyth and Capt.\nHutton, that whole flocks of these crossed geese are kept in various\nparts of the country; and as they are kept for profit, where neither\npure parent-species exists, they must certainly be highly fertile.\n\nA doctrine which originated with Pallas, has been largely accepted\nby modern naturalists; namely, that most of our domestic animals have\ndescended from two or more aboriginal species, since commingled by\nintercrossing. On this view, the aboriginal species must either at first\nhave produced quite fertile hybrids, or the hybrids must have become in\nsubsequent generations quite fertile under domestication. This latter\nalternative seems to me the most probable, and I am inclined to believe\nin its truth, although it rests on no direct evidence. I believe, for\ninstance, that our dogs have descended from several wild stocks; yet,\nwith perhaps the exception of certain indigenous domestic dogs of South\nAmerica, all are quite fertile together; and analogy makes me greatly\ndoubt, whether the several aboriginal species would at first have freely\nbred together and have produced quite fertile hybrids. So again there\nis reason to believe that our European and the humped Indian cattle are\nquite fertile together; but from facts communicated to me by Mr. Blyth,\nI think they must be considered as distinct species. On this view of\nthe origin of many of our domestic animals, we must either give up the\nbelief of the almost universal sterility of distinct species of\nanimals when crossed; or we must look at sterility, not as an indelible\ncharacteristic, but as one capable of being removed by domestication.\n\nFinally, looking to all the ascertained facts on the intercrossing of\nplants and animals, it may be concluded that some degree of sterility,\nboth in first crosses and in hybrids, is an extremely general result;\nbut that it cannot, under our present state of knowledge, be considered\nas absolutely universal.\n\nLAWS GOVERNING THE STERILITY OF FIRST CROSSES AND OF HYBRIDS.\n\nWe will now consider a little more in detail the circumstances and\nrules governing the sterility of first crosses and of hybrids. Our chief\nobject will be to see whether or not the rules indicate that species\nhave specially been endowed with this quality, in order to prevent their\ncrossing and blending together in utter confusion. The following rules\nand conclusions are chiefly drawn up from Gartner's admirable work on\nthe hybridisation of plants. I have taken much pains to ascertain how\nfar the rules apply to animals, and considering how scanty our knowledge\nis in regard to hybrid animals, I have been surprised to find how\ngenerally the same rules apply to both kingdoms.\n\nIt has been already remarked, that the degree of fertility, both of\nfirst crosses and of hybrids, graduates from zero to perfect fertility.\nIt is surprising in how many curious ways this gradation can be shown to\nexist; but only the barest outline of the facts can here be given. When\npollen from a plant of one family is placed on the stigma of a plant of\na distinct family, it exerts no more influence than so much inorganic\ndust. From this absolute zero of fertility, the pollen of different\nspecies of the same genus applied to the stigma of some one species,\nyields a perfect gradation in the number of seeds produced, up to nearly\ncomplete or even quite complete fertility; and, as we have seen, in\ncertain abnormal cases, even to an excess of fertility, beyond that\nwhich the plant's own pollen will produce. So in hybrids themselves,\nthere are some which never have produced, and probably never would\nproduce, even with the pollen of either pure parent, a single fertile\nseed: but in some of these cases a first trace of fertility may be\ndetected, by the pollen of one of the pure parent-species causing the\nflower of the hybrid to wither earlier than it otherwise would have\ndone; and the early withering of the flower is well known to be a sign\nof incipient fertilisation. From this extreme degree of sterility we\nhave self-fertilised hybrids producing a greater and greater number of\nseeds up to perfect fertility.\n\nHybrids from two species which are very difficult to cross, and which\nrarely produce any offspring, are generally very sterile; but the\nparallelism between the difficulty of making a first cross, and the\nsterility of the hybrids thus produced--two classes of facts which are\ngenerally confounded together--is by no means strict. There are many\ncases, in which two pure species can be united with unusual facility,\nand produce numerous hybrid-offspring, yet these hybrids are remarkably\nsterile. On the other hand, there are species which can be crossed\nvery rarely, or with extreme difficulty, but the hybrids, when at last\nproduced, are very fertile. Even within the limits of the same genus,\nfor instance in Dianthus, these two opposite cases occur.\n\nThe fertility, both of first crosses and of hybrids, is more easily\naffected by unfavourable conditions, than is the fertility of pure\nspecies. But the degree of fertility is likewise innately variable; for\nit is not always the same when the same two species are crossed under\nthe same circumstances, but depends in part upon the constitution of the\nindividuals which happen to have been chosen for the experiment. So it\nis with hybrids, for their degree of fertility is often found to differ\ngreatly in the several individuals raised from seed out of the same\ncapsule and exposed to exactly the same conditions.\n\nBy the term systematic affinity is meant, the resemblance between\nspecies in structure and in constitution, more especially in the\nstructure of parts which are of high physiological importance and which\ndiffer little in the allied species. Now the fertility of first crosses\nbetween species, and of the hybrids produced from them, is largely\ngoverned by their systematic affinity. This is clearly shown by hybrids\nnever having been raised between species ranked by systematists in\ndistinct families; and on the other hand, by very closely allied\nspecies generally uniting with facility. But the correspondence between\nsystematic affinity and the facility of crossing is by no means strict.\nA multitude of cases could be given of very closely allied species which\nwill not unite, or only with extreme difficulty; and on the other hand\nof very distinct species which unite with the utmost facility. In\nthe same family there may be a genus, as Dianthus, in which very many\nspecies can most readily be crossed; and another genus, as Silene,\nin which the most persevering efforts have failed to produce between\nextremely close species a single hybrid. Even within the limits of the\nsame genus, we meet with this same difference; for instance, the many\nspecies of Nicotiana have been more largely crossed than the species of\nalmost any other genus; but Gartner found that N. acuminata, which is\nnot a particularly distinct species, obstinately failed to fertilise, or\nto be fertilised by, no less than eight other species of Nicotiana. Very\nmany analogous facts could be given.\n\nNo one has been able to point out what kind, or what amount, of\ndifference in any recognisable character is sufficient to prevent two\nspecies crossing. It can be shown that plants most widely different in\nhabit and general appearance, and having strongly marked differences in\nevery part of the flower, even in the pollen, in the fruit, and in the\ncotyledons, can be crossed. Annual and perennial plants, deciduous and\nevergreen trees, plants inhabiting different stations and fitted for\nextremely different climates, can often be crossed with ease.\n\nBy a reciprocal cross between two species, I mean the case, for\ninstance, of a stallion-horse being first crossed with a female-ass, and\nthen a male-ass with a mare: these two species may then be said to have\nbeen reciprocally crossed. There is often the widest possible difference\nin the facility of making reciprocal crosses. Such cases are highly\nimportant, for they prove that the capacity in any two species to cross\nis often completely independent of their systematic affinity, or of any\nrecognisable difference in their whole organisation. On the other hand,\nthese cases clearly show that the capacity for crossing is connected\nwith constitutional differences imperceptible by us, and confined to the\nreproductive system. This difference in the result of reciprocal crosses\nbetween the same two species was long ago observed by Kolreuter. To give\nan instance: Mirabilis jalappa can easily be fertilised by the pollen of\nM. longiflora, and the hybrids thus produced are sufficiently fertile;\nbut Kolreuter tried more than two hundred times, during eight following\nyears, to fertilise reciprocally M. longiflora with the pollen of M.\njalappa, and utterly failed. Several other equally striking cases could\nbe given. Thuret has observed the same fact with certain sea-weeds\nor Fuci. Gartner, moreover, found that this difference of facility in\nmaking reciprocal crosses is extremely common in a lesser degree. He has\nobserved it even between forms so closely related (as Matthiola annua\nand glabra) that many botanists rank them only as varieties. It is also\na remarkable fact, that hybrids raised from reciprocal crosses, though\nof course compounded of the very same two species, the one species\nhaving first been used as the father and then as the mother, generally\ndiffer in fertility in a small, and occasionally in a high degree.\n\nSeveral other singular rules could be given from Gartner: for instance,\nsome species have a remarkable power of crossing with other species;\nother species of the same genus have a remarkable power of impressing\ntheir likeness on their hybrid offspring; but these two powers do not at\nall necessarily go together. There are certain hybrids which instead\nof having, as is usual, an intermediate character between their two\nparents, always closely resemble one of them; and such hybrids, though\nexternally so like one of their pure parent-species, are with rare\nexceptions extremely sterile. So again amongst hybrids which are\nusually intermediate in structure between their parents, exceptional and\nabnormal individuals sometimes are born, which closely resemble one of\ntheir pure parents; and these hybrids are almost always utterly sterile,\neven when the other hybrids raised from seed from the same capsule have\na considerable degree of fertility. These facts show how completely\nfertility in the hybrid is independent of its external resemblance to\neither pure parent.\n\nConsidering the several rules now given, which govern the fertility\nof first crosses and of hybrids, we see that when forms, which must be\nconsidered as good and distinct species, are united, their fertility\ngraduates from zero to perfect fertility, or even to fertility under\ncertain conditions in excess. That their fertility, besides being\neminently susceptible to favourable and unfavourable conditions, is\ninnately variable. That it is by no means always the same in degree in\nthe first cross and in the hybrids produced from this cross. That the\nfertility of hybrids is not related to the degree in which they resemble\nin external appearance either parent. And lastly, that the facility of\nmaking a first cross between any two species is not always governed by\ntheir systematic affinity or degree of resemblance to each other. This\nlatter statement is clearly proved by reciprocal crosses between the\nsame two species, for according as the one species or the other is used\nas the father or the mother, there is generally some difference,\nand occasionally the widest possible difference, in the facility of\neffecting an union. The hybrids, moreover, produced from reciprocal\ncrosses often differ in fertility.\n\nNow do these complex and singular rules indicate that species have been\nendowed with sterility simply to prevent their becoming confounded\nin nature? I think not. For why should the sterility be so extremely\ndifferent in degree, when various species are crossed, all of which\nwe must suppose it would be equally important to keep from blending\ntogether? Why should the degree of sterility be innately variable in\nthe individuals of the same species? Why should some species cross with\nfacility, and yet produce very sterile hybrids; and other species cross\nwith extreme difficulty, and yet produce fairly fertile hybrids?\nWhy should there often be so great a difference in the result of a\nreciprocal cross between the same two species? Why, it may even be\nasked, has the production of hybrids been permitted? to grant to species\nthe special power of producing hybrids, and then to stop their further\npropagation by different degrees of sterility, not strictly related to\nthe facility of the first union between their parents, seems to be a\nstrange arrangement.\n\nThe foregoing rules and facts, on the other hand, appear to me clearly\nto indicate that the sterility both of first crosses and of hybrids is\nsimply incidental or dependent on unknown differences, chiefly in the\nreproductive systems, of the species which are crossed. The differences\nbeing of so peculiar and limited a nature, that, in reciprocal crosses\nbetween two species the male sexual element of the one will often freely\nact on the female sexual element of the other, but not in a reversed\ndirection. It will be advisable to explain a little more fully by an\nexample what I mean by sterility being incidental on other differences,\nand not a specially endowed quality. As the capacity of one plant to be\ngrafted or budded on another is so entirely unimportant for its welfare\nin a state of nature, I presume that no one will suppose that this\ncapacity is a SPECIALLY endowed quality, but will admit that it is\nincidental on differences in the laws of growth of the two plants. We\ncan sometimes see the reason why one tree will not take on another, from\ndifferences in their rate of growth, in the hardness of their wood, in\nthe period of the flow or nature of their sap, etc.; but in a multitude\nof cases we can assign no reason whatever. Great diversity in the size\nof two plants, one being woody and the other herbaceous, one being\nevergreen and the other deciduous, and adaptation to widely different\nclimates, does not always prevent the two grafting together. As in\nhybridisation, so with grafting, the capacity is limited by systematic\naffinity, for no one has been able to graft trees together belonging to\nquite distinct families; and, on the other hand, closely allied species,\nand varieties of the same species, can usually, but not invariably,\nbe grafted with ease. But this capacity, as in hybridisation, is by no\nmeans absolutely governed by systematic affinity. Although many distinct\ngenera within the same family have been grafted together, in other cases\nspecies of the same genus will not take on each other. The pear can be\ngrafted far more readily on the quince, which is ranked as a distinct\ngenus, than on the apple, which is a member of the same genus. Even\ndifferent varieties of the pear take with different degrees of facility\non the quince; so do different varieties of the apricot and peach on\ncertain varieties of the plum.\n\nAs Gartner found that there was sometimes an innate difference in\ndifferent INDIVIDUALS of the same two species in crossing; so Sagaret\nbelieves this to be the case with different individuals of the same\ntwo species in being grafted together. As in reciprocal crosses, the\nfacility of effecting an union is often very far from equal, so it\nsometimes is in grafting; the common gooseberry, for instance, cannot\nbe grafted on the currant, whereas the currant will take, though with\ndifficulty, on the gooseberry.\n\nWe have seen that the sterility of hybrids, which have their\nreproductive organs in an imperfect condition, is a very different\ncase from the difficulty of uniting two pure species, which have their\nreproductive organs perfect; yet these two distinct cases run to a\ncertain extent parallel. Something analogous occurs in grafting; for\nThouin found that three species of Robinia, which seeded freely on\ntheir own roots, and which could be grafted with no great difficulty on\nanother species, when thus grafted were rendered barren. On the other\nhand, certain species of Sorbus, when grafted on other species, yielded\ntwice as much fruit as when on their own roots. We are reminded by this\nlatter fact of the extraordinary case of Hippeastrum, Lobelia, etc.,\nwhich seeded much more freely when fertilised with the pollen of\ndistinct species, than when self-fertilised with their own pollen.\n\nWe thus see, that although there is a clear and fundamental difference\nbetween the mere adhesion of grafted stocks, and the union of the male\nand female elements in the act of reproduction, yet that there is a\nrude degree of parallelism in the results of grafting and of crossing\ndistinct species. And as we must look at the curious and complex laws\ngoverning the facility with which trees can be grafted on each other\nas incidental on unknown differences in their vegetative systems, so I\nbelieve that the still more complex laws governing the facility of\nfirst crosses, are incidental on unknown differences, chiefly in their\nreproductive systems. These differences, in both cases, follow to a\ncertain extent, as might have been expected, systematic affinity, by\nwhich every kind of resemblance and dissimilarity between organic\nbeings is attempted to be expressed. The facts by no means seem to me\nto indicate that the greater or lesser difficulty of either grafting or\ncrossing together various species has been a special endowment;\nalthough in the case of crossing, the difficulty is as important for the\nendurance and stability of specific forms, as in the case of grafting it\nis unimportant for their welfare.\n\nCAUSES OF THE STERILITY OF FIRST CROSSES AND OF HYBRIDS.\n\nWe may now look a little closer at the probable causes of the sterility\nof first crosses and of hybrids. These two cases are fundamentally\ndifferent, for, as just remarked, in the union of two pure species the\nmale and female sexual elements are perfect, whereas in hybrids they are\nimperfect. Even in first crosses, the greater or lesser difficulty in\neffecting a union apparently depends on several distinct causes. There\nmust sometimes be a physical impossibility in the male element reaching\nthe ovule, as would be the case with a plant having a pistil too long\nfor the pollen-tubes to reach the ovarium. It has also been observed\nthat when pollen of one species is placed on the stigma of a distantly\nallied species, though the pollen-tubes protrude, they do not penetrate\nthe stigmatic surface. Again, the male element may reach the female\nelement, but be incapable of causing an embryo to be developed, as seems\nto have been the case with some of Thuret's experiments on Fuci. No\nexplanation can be given of these facts, any more than why certain trees\ncannot be grafted on others. Lastly, an embryo may be developed, and\nthen perish at an early period. This latter alternative has not been\nsufficiently attended to; but I believe, from observations communicated\nto me by Mr. Hewitt, who has had great experience in hybridising\ngallinaceous birds, that the early death of the embryo is a very\nfrequent cause of sterility in first crosses. I was at first very\nunwilling to believe in this view; as hybrids, when once born, are\ngenerally healthy and long-lived, as we see in the case of the common\nmule. Hybrids, however, are differently circumstanced before and after\nbirth: when born and living in a country where their two parents can\nlive, they are generally placed under suitable conditions of life. But\na hybrid partakes of only half of the nature and constitution of its\nmother, and therefore before birth, as long as it is nourished within\nits mother's womb or within the egg or seed produced by the mother, it\nmay be exposed to conditions in some degree unsuitable, and consequently\nbe liable to perish at an early period; more especially as all very\nyoung beings seem eminently sensitive to injurious or unnatural\nconditions of life.\n\nIn regard to the sterility of hybrids, in which the sexual elements are\nimperfectly developed, the case is very different. I have more than once\nalluded to a large body of facts, which I have collected, showing that\nwhen animals and plants are removed from their natural conditions,\nthey are extremely liable to have their reproductive systems seriously\naffected. This, in fact, is the great bar to the domestication of\nanimals. Between the sterility thus superinduced and that of hybrids,\nthere are many points of similarity. In both cases the sterility is\nindependent of general health, and is often accompanied by excess of\nsize or great luxuriance. In both cases, the sterility occurs in various\ndegrees; in both, the male element is the most liable to be affected;\nbut sometimes the female more than the male. In both, the tendency\ngoes to a certain extent with systematic affinity, for whole groups\nof animals and plants are rendered impotent by the same unnatural\nconditions; and whole groups of species tend to produce sterile hybrids.\nOn the other hand, one species in a group will sometimes resist great\nchanges of conditions with unimpaired fertility; and certain species in\na group will produce unusually fertile hybrids. No one can tell, till he\ntries, whether any particular animal will breed under confinement or any\nplant seed freely under culture; nor can he tell, till he tries, whether\nany two species of a genus will produce more or less sterile hybrids.\nLastly, when organic beings are placed during several generations under\nconditions not natural to them, they are extremely liable to vary,\nwhich is due, as I believe, to their reproductive systems having been\nspecially affected, though in a lesser degree than when sterility\nensues. So it is with hybrids, for hybrids in successive generations are\neminently liable to vary, as every experimentalist has observed.\n\nThus we see that when organic beings are placed under new and unnatural\nconditions, and when hybrids are produced by the unnatural crossing of\ntwo species, the reproductive system, independently of the general state\nof health, is affected by sterility in a very similar manner. In the\none case, the conditions of life have been disturbed, though often in so\nslight a degree as to be inappreciable by us; in the other case, or\nthat of hybrids, the external conditions have remained the same, but\nthe organisation has been disturbed by two different structures and\nconstitutions having been blended into one. For it is scarcely possible\nthat two organisations should be compounded into one, without some\ndisturbance occurring in the development, or periodical action, or\nmutual relation of the different parts and organs one to another, or to\nthe conditions of life. When hybrids are able to breed inter se, they\ntransmit to their offspring from generation to generation the same\ncompounded organisation, and hence we need not be surprised that their\nsterility, though in some degree variable, rarely diminishes.\n\nIt must, however, be confessed that we cannot understand, excepting\non vague hypotheses, several facts with respect to the sterility of\nhybrids; for instance, the unequal fertility of hybrids produced from\nreciprocal crosses; or the increased sterility in those hybrids which\noccasionally and exceptionally resemble closely either pure parent. Nor\ndo I pretend that the foregoing remarks go to the root of the matter:\nno explanation is offered why an organism, when placed under unnatural\nconditions, is rendered sterile. All that I have attempted to show,\nis that in two cases, in some respects allied, sterility is the common\nresult,--in the one case from the conditions of life having been\ndisturbed, in the other case from the organisation having been disturbed\nby two organisations having been compounded into one.\n\nIt may seem fanciful, but I suspect that a similar parallelism extends\nto an allied yet very different class of facts. It is an old and almost\nuniversal belief, founded, I think, on a considerable body of evidence,\nthat slight changes in the conditions of life are beneficial to all\nliving things. We see this acted on by farmers and gardeners in their\nfrequent exchanges of seed, tubers, etc., from one soil or climate to\nanother, and back again. During the convalescence of animals, we plainly\nsee that great benefit is derived from almost any change in the\nhabits of life. Again, both with plants and animals, there is abundant\nevidence, that a cross between very distinct individuals of the same\nspecies, that is between members of different strains or sub-breeds,\ngives vigour and fertility to the offspring. I believe, indeed, from\nthe facts alluded to in our fourth chapter, that a certain amount of\ncrossing is indispensable even with hermaphrodites; and that close\ninterbreeding continued during several generations between the nearest\nrelations, especially if these be kept under the same conditions of\nlife, always induces weakness and sterility in the progeny.\n\nHence it seems that, on the one hand, slight changes in the conditions\nof life benefit all organic beings, and on the other hand, that slight\ncrosses, that is crosses between the males and females of the same\nspecies which have varied and become slightly different, give vigour and\nfertility to the offspring. But we have seen that greater changes, or\nchanges of a particular nature, often render organic beings in some\ndegree sterile; and that greater crosses, that is crosses between males\nand females which have become widely or specifically different, produce\nhybrids which are generally sterile in some degree. I cannot persuade\nmyself that this parallelism is an accident or an illusion. Both series\nof facts seem to be connected together by some common but unknown bond,\nwhich is essentially related to the principle of life.\n\nFERTILITY OF VARIETIES WHEN CROSSED, AND OF THEIR MONGREL OFFSPRING.\n\nIt may be urged, as a most forcible argument, that there must be some\nessential distinction between species and varieties, and that there\nmust be some error in all the foregoing remarks, inasmuch as varieties,\nhowever much they may differ from each other in external appearance,\ncross with perfect facility, and yield perfectly fertile offspring. I\nfully admit that this is almost invariably the case. But if we look to\nvarieties produced under nature, we are immediately involved in hopeless\ndifficulties; for if two hitherto reputed varieties be found in any\ndegree sterile together, they are at once ranked by most naturalists\nas species. For instance, the blue and red pimpernel, the primrose\nand cowslip, which are considered by many of our best botanists as\nvarieties, are said by Gartner not to be quite fertile when crossed, and\nhe consequently ranks them as undoubted species. If we thus argue in\na circle, the fertility of all varieties produced under nature will\nassuredly have to be granted.\n\nIf we turn to varieties, produced, or supposed to have been produced,\nunder domestication, we are still involved in doubt. For when it is\nstated, for instance, that the German Spitz dog unites more easily\nthan other dogs with foxes, or that certain South American indigenous\ndomestic dogs do not readily cross with European dogs, the explanation\nwhich will occur to everyone, and probably the true one, is that\nthese dogs have descended from several aboriginally distinct species.\nNevertheless the perfect fertility of so many domestic varieties,\ndiffering widely from each other in appearance, for instance of the\npigeon or of the cabbage, is a remarkable fact; more especially when we\nreflect how many species there are, which, though resembling each\nother most closely, are utterly sterile when intercrossed. Several\nconsiderations, however, render the fertility of domestic varieties less\nremarkable than at first appears. It can, in the first place, be clearly\nshown that mere external dissimilarity between two species does not\ndetermine their greater or lesser degree of sterility when crossed; and\nwe may apply the same rule to domestic varieties. In the second place,\nsome eminent naturalists believe that a long course of domestication\ntends to eliminate sterility in the successive generations of hybrids,\nwhich were at first only slightly sterile; and if this be so, we surely\nought not to expect to find sterility both appearing and disappearing\nunder nearly the same conditions of life. Lastly, and this seems to me\nby far the most important consideration, new races of animals and plants\nare produced under domestication by man's methodical and unconscious\npower of selection, for his own use and pleasure: he neither wishes to\nselect, nor could select, slight differences in the reproductive system,\nor other constitutional differences correlated with the reproductive\nsystem. He supplies his several varieties with the same food; treats\nthem in nearly the same manner, and does not wish to alter their general\nhabits of life. Nature acts uniformly and slowly during vast periods\nof time on the whole organisation, in any way which may be for each\ncreature's own good; and thus she may, either directly, or more probably\nindirectly, through correlation, modify the reproductive system in the\nseveral descendants from any one species. Seeing this difference in the\nprocess of selection, as carried on by man and nature, we need not be\nsurprised at some difference in the result.\n\nI have as yet spoken as if the varieties of the same species were\ninvariably fertile when intercrossed. But it seems to me impossible to\nresist the evidence of the existence of a certain amount of sterility in\nthe few following cases, which I will briefly abstract. The evidence\nis at least as good as that from which we believe in the sterility of\na multitude of species. The evidence is, also, derived from hostile\nwitnesses, who in all other cases consider fertility and sterility as\nsafe criterions of specific distinction. Gartner kept during several\nyears a dwarf kind of maize with yellow seeds, and a tall variety with\nred seeds, growing near each other in his garden; and although these\nplants have separated sexes, they never naturally crossed. He then\nfertilised thirteen flowers of the one with the pollen of the other; but\nonly a single head produced any seed, and this one head produced only\nfive grains. Manipulation in this case could not have been injurious, as\nthe plants have separated sexes. No one, I believe, has suspected that\nthese varieties of maize are distinct species; and it is important to\nnotice that the hybrid plants thus raised were themselves PERFECTLY\nfertile; so that even Gartner did not venture to consider the two\nvarieties as specifically distinct.\n\nGirou de Buzareingues crossed three varieties of gourd, which like\nthe maize has separated sexes, and he asserts that their mutual\nfertilisation is by so much the less easy as their differences are\ngreater. How far these experiments may be trusted, I know not; but the\nforms experimentised on, are ranked by Sagaret, who mainly founds his\nclassification by the test of infertility, as varieties.\n\nThe following case is far more remarkable, and seems at first quite\nincredible; but it is the result of an astonishing number of experiments\nmade during many years on nine species of Verbascum, by so good an\nobserver and so hostile a witness, as Gartner: namely, that yellow\nand white varieties of the same species of Verbascum when intercrossed\nproduce less seed, than do either coloured varieties when fertilised\nwith pollen from their own coloured flowers. Moreover, he asserts that\nwhen yellow and white varieties of one species are crossed with yellow\nand white varieties of a DISTINCT species, more seed is produced by the\ncrosses between the same coloured flowers, than between those which are\ndifferently coloured. Yet these varieties of Verbascum present no other\ndifference besides the mere colour of the flower; and one variety can\nsometimes be raised from the seed of the other.\n\nFrom observations which I have made on certain varieties of hollyhock, I\nam inclined to suspect that they present analogous facts.\n\nKolreuter, whose accuracy has been confirmed by every subsequent\nobserver, has proved the remarkable fact, that one variety of the common\ntobacco is more fertile, when crossed with a widely distinct species,\nthan are the other varieties. He experimentised on five forms, which are\ncommonly reputed to be varieties, and which he tested by the severest\ntrial, namely, by reciprocal crosses, and he found their mongrel\noffspring perfectly fertile. But one of these five varieties, when used\neither as father or mother, and crossed with the Nicotiana glutinosa,\nalways yielded hybrids not so sterile as those which were produced\nfrom the four other varieties when crossed with N. glutinosa. Hence the\nreproductive system of this one variety must have been in some manner\nand in some degree modified.\n\nFrom these facts; from the great difficulty of ascertaining the\ninfertility of varieties in a state of nature, for a supposed variety if\ninfertile in any degree would generally be ranked as species; from\nman selecting only external characters in the production of the most\ndistinct domestic varieties, and from not wishing or being able to\nproduce recondite and functional differences in the reproductive system;\nfrom these several considerations and facts, I do not think that the\nvery general fertility of varieties can be proved to be of universal\noccurrence, or to form a fundamental distinction between varieties\nand species. The general fertility of varieties does not seem to me\nsufficient to overthrow the view which I have taken with respect to\nthe very general, but not invariable, sterility of first crosses and of\nhybrids, namely, that it is not a special endowment, but is incidental\non slowly acquired modifications, more especially in the reproductive\nsystems of the forms which are crossed.\n\nHYBRIDS AND MONGRELS COMPARED, INDEPENDENTLY OF THEIR FERTILITY.\n\nIndependently of the question of fertility, the offspring of species\nwhen crossed and of varieties when crossed may be compared in several\nother respects. Gartner, whose strong wish was to draw a marked line of\ndistinction between species and varieties, could find very few and,\nas it seems to me, quite unimportant differences between the so-called\nhybrid offspring of species, and the so-called mongrel offspring of\nvarieties. And, on the other hand, they agree most closely in very many\nimportant respects.\n\nI shall here discuss this subject with extreme brevity. The most\nimportant distinction is, that in the first generation mongrels are\nmore variable than hybrids; but Gartner admits that hybrids from\nspecies which have long been cultivated are often variable in the first\ngeneration; and I have myself seen striking instances of this fact.\nGartner further admits that hybrids between very closely allied species\nare more variable than those from very distinct species; and this shows\nthat the difference in the degree of variability graduates away.\nWhen mongrels and the more fertile hybrids are propagated for several\ngenerations an extreme amount of variability in their offspring\nis notorious; but some few cases both of hybrids and mongrels long\nretaining uniformity of character could be given. The variability,\nhowever, in the successive generations of mongrels is, perhaps, greater\nthan in hybrids.\n\nThis greater variability of mongrels than of hybrids does not seem to me\nat all surprising. For the parents of mongrels are varieties, and mostly\ndomestic varieties (very few experiments having been tried on natural\nvarieties), and this implies in most cases that there has been recent\nvariability; and therefore we might expect that such variability would\noften continue and be super-added to that arising from the mere act of\ncrossing. The slight degree of variability in hybrids from the first\ncross or in the first generation, in contrast with their extreme\nvariability in the succeeding generations, is a curious fact and\ndeserves attention. For it bears on and corroborates the view which I\nhave taken on the cause of ordinary variability; namely, that it is due\nto the reproductive system being eminently sensitive to any change in\nthe conditions of life, being thus often rendered either impotent or at\nleast incapable of its proper function of producing offspring identical\nwith the parent-form. Now hybrids in the first generation are descended\nfrom species (excluding those long cultivated) which have not had their\nreproductive systems in any way affected, and they are not variable; but\nhybrids themselves have their reproductive systems seriously affected,\nand their descendants are highly variable.\n\nBut to return to our comparison of mongrels and hybrids: Gartner\nstates that mongrels are more liable than hybrids to revert to either\nparent-form; but this, if it be true, is certainly only a difference in\ndegree. Gartner further insists that when any two species, although\nmost closely allied to each other, are crossed with a third species,\nthe hybrids are widely different from each other; whereas if two very\ndistinct varieties of one species are crossed with another species, the\nhybrids do not differ much. But this conclusion, as far as I can make\nout, is founded on a single experiment; and seems directly opposed to\nthe results of several experiments made by Kolreuter.\n\nThese alone are the unimportant differences, which Gartner is able to\npoint out, between hybrid and mongrel plants. On the other hand, the\nresemblance in mongrels and in hybrids to their respective parents,\nmore especially in hybrids produced from nearly related species, follows\naccording to Gartner the same laws. When two species are crossed,\none has sometimes a prepotent power of impressing its likeness on the\nhybrid; and so I believe it to be with varieties of plants. With animals\none variety certainly often has this prepotent power over another\nvariety. Hybrid plants produced from a reciprocal cross, generally\nresemble each other closely; and so it is with mongrels from a\nreciprocal cross. Both hybrids and mongrels can be reduced to either\npure parent-form, by repeated crosses in successive generations with\neither parent.\n\nThese several remarks are apparently applicable to animals; but the\nsubject is here excessively complicated, partly owing to the existence\nof secondary sexual characters; but more especially owing to prepotency\nin transmitting likeness running more strongly in one sex than in the\nother, both when one species is crossed with another, and when one\nvariety is crossed with another variety. For instance, I think those\nauthors are right, who maintain that the ass has a prepotent power over\nthe horse, so that both the mule and the hinny more resemble the ass\nthan the horse; but that the prepotency runs more strongly in the\nmale-ass than in the female, so that the mule, which is the offspring of\nthe male-ass and mare, is more like an ass, than is the hinny, which is\nthe offspring of the female-ass and stallion.\n\nMuch stress has been laid by some authors on the supposed fact, that\nmongrel animals alone are born closely like one of their parents; but\nit can be shown that this does sometimes occur with hybrids; yet I grant\nmuch less frequently with hybrids than with mongrels. Looking to the\ncases which I have collected of cross-bred animals closely resembling\none parent, the resemblances seem chiefly confined to characters almost\nmonstrous in their nature, and which have suddenly appeared--such as\nalbinism, melanism, deficiency of tail or horns, or additional fingers\nand toes; and do not relate to characters which have been slowly\nacquired by selection. Consequently, sudden reversions to the perfect\ncharacter of either parent would be more likely to occur with mongrels,\nwhich are descended from varieties often suddenly produced and\nsemi-monstrous in character, than with hybrids, which are descended from\nspecies slowly and naturally produced. On the whole I entirely agree\nwith Dr. Prosper Lucas, who, after arranging an enormous body of facts\nwith respect to animals, comes to the conclusion, that the laws of\nresemblance of the child to its parents are the same, whether the two\nparents differ much or little from each other, namely in the union\nof individuals of the same variety, or of different varieties, or of\ndistinct species.\n\nLaying aside the question of fertility and sterility, in all other\nrespects there seems to be a general and close similarity in the\noffspring of crossed species, and of crossed varieties. If we look at\nspecies as having been specially created, and at varieties as having\nbeen produced by secondary laws, this similarity would be an astonishing\nfact. But it harmonises perfectly with the view that there is no\nessential distinction between species and varieties.\n\nSUMMARY OF CHAPTER.\n\nFirst crosses between forms sufficiently distinct to be ranked as\nspecies, and their hybrids, are very generally, but not universally,\nsterile. The sterility is of all degrees, and is often so slight that\nthe two most careful experimentalists who have ever lived, have come to\ndiametrically opposite conclusions in ranking forms by this test. The\nsterility is innately variable in individuals of the same species, and\nis eminently susceptible of favourable and unfavourable conditions. The\ndegree of sterility does not strictly follow systematic affinity, but is\ngoverned by several curious and complex laws. It is generally different,\nand sometimes widely different, in reciprocal crosses between the same\ntwo species. It is not always equal in degree in a first cross and in\nthe hybrid produced from this cross.\n\nIn the same manner as in grafting trees, the capacity of one species\nor variety to take on another, is incidental on generally unknown\ndifferences in their vegetative systems, so in crossing, the greater\nor less facility of one species to unite with another, is incidental\non unknown differences in their reproductive systems. There is no more\nreason to think that species have been specially endowed with various\ndegrees of sterility to prevent them crossing and blending in nature,\nthan to think that trees have been specially endowed with various and\nsomewhat analogous degrees of difficulty in being grafted together in\norder to prevent them becoming inarched in our forests.\n\nThe sterility of first crosses between pure species, which have their\nreproductive systems perfect, seems to depend on several circumstances;\nin some cases largely on the early death of the embryo. The sterility of\nhybrids, which have their reproductive systems imperfect, and which\nhave had this system and their whole organisation disturbed by being\ncompounded of two distinct species, seems closely allied to that\nsterility which so frequently affects pure species, when their natural\nconditions of life have been disturbed. This view is supported by a\nparallelism of another kind;--namely, that the crossing of forms only\nslightly different is favourable to the vigour and fertility of their\noffspring; and that slight changes in the conditions of life are\napparently favourable to the vigour and fertility of all organic beings.\nIt is not surprising that the degree of difficulty in uniting two\nspecies, and the degree of sterility of their hybrid-offspring should\ngenerally correspond, though due to distinct causes; for both depend\non the amount of difference of some kind between the species which are\ncrossed. Nor is it surprising that the facility of effecting a first\ncross, the fertility of the hybrids produced, and the capacity of being\ngrafted together--though this latter capacity evidently depends on\nwidely different circumstances--should all run, to a certain extent,\nparallel with the systematic affinity of the forms which are subjected\nto experiment; for systematic affinity attempts to express all kinds of\nresemblance between all species.\n\nFirst crosses between forms known to be varieties, or sufficiently alike\nto be considered as varieties, and their mongrel offspring, are very\ngenerally, but not quite universally, fertile. Nor is this nearly\ngeneral and perfect fertility surprising, when we remember how liable we\nare to argue in a circle with respect to varieties in a state of nature;\nand when we remember that the greater number of varieties have\nbeen produced under domestication by the selection of mere external\ndifferences, and not of differences in the reproductive system. In\nall other respects, excluding fertility, there is a close general\nresemblance between hybrids and mongrels. Finally, then, the facts\nbriefly given in this chapter do not seem to me opposed to, but even\nrather to support the view, that there is no fundamental distinction\nbetween species and varieties.\n\n\n\n\n9. ON THE IMPERFECTION OF THE GEOLOGICAL RECORD.\n\nOn the absence of intermediate varieties at the present day. On the\nnature of extinct intermediate varieties; on their number. On the\nvast lapse of time, as inferred from the rate of deposition and of\ndenudation. On the poorness of our palaeontological collections. On the\nintermittence of geological formations. On the absence of intermediate\nvarieties in any one formation. On the sudden appearance of groups of\nspecies. On their sudden appearance in the lowest known fossiliferous\nstrata.\n\nIn the sixth chapter I enumerated the chief objections which might be\njustly urged against the views maintained in this volume. Most of them\nhave now been discussed. One, namely the distinctness of specific forms,\nand their not being blended together by innumerable transitional links,\nis a very obvious difficulty. I assigned reasons why such links do not\ncommonly occur at the present day, under the circumstances apparently\nmost favourable for their presence, namely on an extensive and\ncontinuous area with graduated physical conditions. I endeavoured to\nshow, that the life of each species depends in a more important manner\non the presence of other already defined organic forms, than on climate;\nand, therefore, that the really governing conditions of life do not\ngraduate away quite insensibly like heat or moisture. I endeavoured,\nalso, to show that intermediate varieties, from existing in lesser\nnumbers than the forms which they connect, will generally be beaten\nout and exterminated during the course of further modification and\nimprovement. The main cause, however, of innumerable intermediate links\nnot now occurring everywhere throughout nature depends on the very\nprocess of natural selection, through which new varieties continually\ntake the places of and exterminate their parent-forms. But just in\nproportion as this process of extermination has acted on an enormous\nscale, so must the number of intermediate varieties, which have\nformerly existed on the earth, be truly enormous. Why then is not every\ngeological formation and every stratum full of such intermediate links?\nGeology assuredly does not reveal any such finely graduated organic\nchain; and this, perhaps, is the most obvious and gravest objection\nwhich can be urged against my theory. The explanation lies, as I\nbelieve, in the extreme imperfection of the geological record.\n\nIn the first place it should always be borne in mind what sort of\nintermediate forms must, on my theory, have formerly existed. I have\nfound it difficult, when looking at any two species, to avoid picturing\nto myself, forms DIRECTLY intermediate between them. But this is a\nwholly false view; we should always look for forms intermediate between\neach species and a common but unknown progenitor; and the progenitor\nwill generally have differed in some respects from all its modified\ndescendants. To give a simple illustration: the fantail and pouter\npigeons have both descended from the rock-pigeon; if we possessed all\nthe intermediate varieties which have ever existed, we should have an\nextremely close series between both and the rock-pigeon; but we should\nhave no varieties directly intermediate between the fantail and pouter;\nnone, for instance, combining a tail somewhat expanded with a crop\nsomewhat enlarged, the characteristic features of these two breeds.\nThese two breeds, moreover, have become so much modified, that if we had\nno historical or indirect evidence regarding their origin, it would not\nhave been possible to have determined from a mere comparison of their\nstructure with that of the rock-pigeon, whether they had descended from\nthis species or from some other allied species, such as C. oenas.\n\nSo with natural species, if we look to forms very distinct, for instance\nto the horse and tapir, we have no reason to suppose that links ever\nexisted directly intermediate between them, but between each and an\nunknown common parent. The common parent will have had in its whole\norganisation much general resemblance to the tapir and to the horse; but\nin some points of structure may have differed considerably from both,\neven perhaps more than they differ from each other. Hence in all such\ncases, we should be unable to recognise the parent-form of any two or\nmore species, even if we closely compared the structure of the parent\nwith that of its modified descendants, unless at the same time we had a\nnearly perfect chain of the intermediate links.\n\nIt is just possible by my theory, that one of two living forms might\nhave descended from the other; for instance, a horse from a tapir; and\nin this case DIRECT intermediate links will have existed between them.\nBut such a case would imply that one form had remained for a very long\nperiod unaltered, whilst its descendants had undergone a vast amount of\nchange; and the principle of competition between organism and organism,\nbetween child and parent, will render this a very rare event; for in all\ncases the new and improved forms of life will tend to supplant the old\nand unimproved forms.\n\nBy the theory of natural selection all living species have been\nconnected with the parent-species of each genus, by differences not\ngreater than we see between the varieties of the same species at the\npresent day; and these parent-species, now generally extinct, have in\ntheir turn been similarly connected with more ancient species; and so on\nbackwards, always converging to the common ancestor of each great class.\nSo that the number of intermediate and transitional links, between all\nliving and extinct species, must have been inconceivably great. But\nassuredly, if this theory be true, such have lived upon this earth.\n\nON THE LAPSE OF TIME.\n\nIndependently of our not finding fossil remains of such infinitely\nnumerous connecting links, it may be objected, that time will not have\nsufficed for so great an amount of organic change, all changes having\nbeen effected very slowly through natural selection. It is hardly\npossible for me even to recall to the reader, who may not be a practical\ngeologist, the facts leading the mind feebly to comprehend the lapse of\ntime. He who can read Sir Charles Lyell's grand work on the Principles\nof Geology, which the future historian will recognise as having produced\na revolution in natural science, yet does not admit how incomprehensibly\nvast have been the past periods of time, may at once close this volume.\nNot that it suffices to study the Principles of Geology, or to read\nspecial treatises by different observers on separate formations, and to\nmark how each author attempts to give an inadequate idea of the duration\nof each formation or even each stratum. A man must for years examine for\nhimself great piles of superimposed strata, and watch the sea at work\ngrinding down old rocks and making fresh sediment, before he can hope to\ncomprehend anything of the lapse of time, the monuments of which we see\naround us.\n\nIt is good to wander along lines of sea-coast, when formed of moderately\nhard rocks, and mark the process of degradation. The tides in most cases\nreach the cliffs only for a short time twice a day, and the waves eat\ninto them only when they are charged with sand or pebbles; for there\nis reason to believe that pure water can effect little or nothing in\nwearing away rock. At last the base of the cliff is undermined, huge\nfragments fall down, and these remaining fixed, have to be worn away,\natom by atom, until reduced in size they can be rolled about by the\nwaves, and then are more quickly ground into pebbles, sand, or mud.\nBut how often do we see along the bases of retreating cliffs rounded\nboulders, all thickly clothed by marine productions, showing how little\nthey are abraded and how seldom they are rolled about! Moreover, if\nwe follow for a few miles any line of rocky cliff, which is undergoing\ndegradation, we find that it is only here and there, along a short\nlength or round a promontory, that the cliffs are at the present time\nsuffering. The appearance of the surface and the vegetation show that\nelsewhere years have elapsed since the waters washed their base.\n\nHe who most closely studies the action of the sea on our shores, will,\nI believe, be most deeply impressed with the slowness with which rocky\ncoasts are worn away. The observations on this head by Hugh Miller,\nand by that excellent observer Mr. Smith of Jordan Hill, are most\nimpressive. With the mind thus impressed, let any one examine beds of\nconglomerate many thousand feet in thickness, which, though probably\nformed at a quicker rate than many other deposits, yet, from being\nformed of worn and rounded pebbles, each of which bears the stamp of\ntime, are good to show how slowly the mass has been accumulated. Let\nhim remember Lyell's profound remark, that the thickness and extent of\nsedimentary formations are the result and measure of the degradation\nwhich the earth's crust has elsewhere suffered. And what an amount of\ndegradation is implied by the sedimentary deposits of many countries!\nProfessor Ramsay has given me the maximum thickness, in most cases from\nactual measurement, in a few cases from estimate, of each formation in\ndifferent parts of Great Britain; and this is the result:--\n\n Feet\n\n Palaeozoic strata (not including igneous beds)..57,154.\n Secondary strata................................13,190.\n Tertiary strata..................................2,240.\n\n--making altogether 72,584 feet; that is, very nearly thirteen and\nthree-quarters British miles. Some of these formations, which are\nrepresented in England by thin beds, are thousands of feet in thickness\non the Continent. Moreover, between each successive formation, we have,\nin the opinion of most geologists, enormously long blank periods.\nSo that the lofty pile of sedimentary rocks in Britain, gives but an\ninadequate idea of the time which has elapsed during their accumulation;\nyet what time this must have consumed! Good observers have estimated\nthat sediment is deposited by the great Mississippi river at the rate\nof only 600 feet in a hundred thousand years. This estimate may be quite\nerroneous; yet, considering over what wide spaces very fine sediment is\ntransported by the currents of the sea, the process of accumulation in\nany one area must be extremely slow.\n\nBut the amount of denudation which the strata have in many places\nsuffered, independently of the rate of accumulation of the degraded\nmatter, probably offers the best evidence of the lapse of time. I\nremember having been much struck with the evidence of denudation, when\nviewing volcanic islands, which have been worn by the waves and pared\nall round into perpendicular cliffs of one or two thousand feet in\nheight; for the gentle slope of the lava-streams, due to their formerly\nliquid state, showed at a glance how far the hard, rocky beds had once\nextended into the open ocean. The same story is still more plainly told\nby faults,--those great cracks along which the strata have been upheaved\non one side, or thrown down on the other, to the height or depth of\nthousands of feet; for since the crust cracked, the surface of the land\nhas been so completely planed down by the action of the sea, that no\ntrace of these vast dislocations is externally visible.\n\nThe Craven fault, for instance, extends for upwards of 30 miles, and\nalong this line the vertical displacement of the strata has varied\nfrom 600 to 3000 feet. Professor Ramsay has published an account of\na downthrow in Anglesea of 2300 feet; and he informs me that he fully\nbelieves there is one in Merionethshire of 12,000 feet; yet in these\ncases there is nothing on the surface to show such prodigious movements;\nthe pile of rocks on the one or other side having been smoothly swept\naway. The consideration of these facts impresses my mind almost in\nthe same manner as does the vain endeavour to grapple with the idea of\neternity.\n\nI am tempted to give one other case, the well-known one of the\ndenudation of the Weald. Though it must be admitted that the denudation\nof the Weald has been a mere trifle, in comparison with that which has\nremoved masses of our palaeozoic strata, in parts ten thousand feet\nin thickness, as shown in Professor Ramsay's masterly memoir on this\nsubject. Yet it is an admirable lesson to stand on the North Downs and\nto look at the distant South Downs; for, remembering that at no great\ndistance to the west the northern and southern escarpments meet and\nclose, one can safely picture to oneself the great dome of rocks which\nmust have covered up the Weald within so limited a period as since the\nlatter part of the Chalk formation. The distance from the northern to\nthe southern Downs is about 22 miles, and the thickness of the several\nformations is on an average about 1100 feet, as I am informed by\nProfessor Ramsay. But if, as some geologists suppose, a range of\nolder rocks underlies the Weald, on the flanks of which the overlying\nsedimentary deposits might have accumulated in thinner masses than\nelsewhere, the above estimate would be erroneous; but this source of\ndoubt probably would not greatly affect the estimate as applied to the\nwestern extremity of the district. If, then, we knew the rate at which\nthe sea commonly wears away a line of cliff of any given height, we\ncould measure the time requisite to have denuded the Weald. This, of\ncourse, cannot be done; but we may, in order to form some crude notion\non the subject, assume that the sea would eat into cliffs 500 feet in\nheight at the rate of one inch in a century. This will at first appear\nmuch too small an allowance; but it is the same as if we were to assume\na cliff one yard in height to be eaten back along a whole line of\ncoast at the rate of one yard in nearly every twenty-two years. I\ndoubt whether any rock, even as soft as chalk, would yield at this rate\nexcepting on the most exposed coasts; though no doubt the degradation\nof a lofty cliff would be more rapid from the breakage of the fallen\nfragments. On the other hand, I do not believe that any line of coast,\nten or twenty miles in length, ever suffers degradation at the same time\nalong its whole indented length; and we must remember that almost all\nstrata contain harder layers or nodules, which from long resisting\nattrition form a breakwater at the base. Hence, under ordinary\ncircumstances, I conclude that for a cliff 500 feet in height, a\ndenudation of one inch per century for the whole length would be an\nample allowance. At this rate, on the above data, the denudation of the\nWeald must have required 306,662,400 years; or say three hundred million\nyears.\n\nThe action of fresh water on the gently inclined Wealden district, when\nupraised, could hardly have been great, but it would somewhat reduce the\nabove estimate. On the other hand, during oscillations of level, which\nwe know this area has undergone, the surface may have existed for\nmillions of years as land, and thus have escaped the action of the\nsea: when deeply submerged for perhaps equally long periods, it would,\nlikewise, have escaped the action of the coast-waves. So that in all\nprobability a far longer period than 300 million years has elapsed since\nthe latter part of the Secondary period.\n\nI have made these few remarks because it is highly important for us to\ngain some notion, however imperfect, of the lapse of years. During each\nof these years, over the whole world, the land and the water has\nbeen peopled by hosts of living forms. What an infinite number of\ngenerations, which the mind cannot grasp, must have succeeded each other\nin the long roll of years! Now turn to our richest geological museums,\nand what a paltry display we behold!\n\nON THE POORNESS OF OUR PALAEONTOLOGICAL COLLECTIONS.\n\nThat our palaeontological collections are very imperfect, is admitted by\nevery one. The remark of that admirable palaeontologist, the late Edward\nForbes, should not be forgotten, namely, that numbers of our fossil\nspecies are known and named from single and often broken specimens, or\nfrom a few specimens collected on some one spot. Only a small portion\nof the surface of the earth has been geologically explored, and no part\nwith sufficient care, as the important discoveries made every year in\nEurope prove. No organism wholly soft can be preserved. Shells and\nbones will decay and disappear when left on the bottom of the sea, where\nsediment is not accumulating. I believe we are continually taking a\nmost erroneous view, when we tacitly admit to ourselves that sediment\nis being deposited over nearly the whole bed of the sea, at a rate\nsufficiently quick to embed and preserve fossil remains. Throughout an\nenormously large proportion of the ocean, the bright blue tint of the\nwater bespeaks its purity. The many cases on record of a formation\nconformably covered, after an enormous interval of time, by another\nand later formation, without the underlying bed having suffered in the\ninterval any wear and tear, seem explicable only on the view of the\nbottom of the sea not rarely lying for ages in an unaltered condition.\nThe remains which do become embedded, if in sand or gravel, will when\nthe beds are upraised generally be dissolved by the percolation of\nrain-water. I suspect that but few of the very many animals which live\non the beach between high and low watermark are preserved. For instance,\nthe several species of the Chthamalinae (a sub-family of sessile\ncirripedes) coat the rocks all over the world in infinite numbers: they\nare all strictly littoral, with the exception of a single Mediterranean\nspecies, which inhabits deep water and has been found fossil in Sicily,\nwhereas not one other species has hitherto been found in any tertiary\nformation: yet it is now known that the genus Chthamalus existed\nduring the chalk period. The molluscan genus Chiton offers a partially\nanalogous case.\n\nWith respect to the terrestrial productions which lived during the\nSecondary and Palaeozoic periods, it is superfluous to state that our\nevidence from fossil remains is fragmentary in an extreme degree. For\ninstance, not a land shell is known belonging to either of these\nvast periods, with one exception discovered by Sir C. Lyell in the\ncarboniferous strata of North America. In regard to mammiferous remains,\na single glance at the historical table published in the Supplement to\nLyell's Manual, will bring home the truth, how accidental and rare is\ntheir preservation, far better than pages of detail. Nor is their rarity\nsurprising, when we remember how large a proportion of the bones of\ntertiary mammals have been discovered either in caves or in lacustrine\ndeposits; and that not a cave or true lacustrine bed is known belonging\nto the age of our secondary or palaeozoic formations.\n\nBut the imperfection in the geological record mainly results from\nanother and more important cause than any of the foregoing; namely, from\nthe several formations being separated from each other by wide intervals\nof time. When we see the formations tabulated in written works, or when\nwe follow them in nature, it is difficult to avoid believing that\nthey are closely consecutive. But we know, for instance, from Sir R.\nMurchison's great work on Russia, what wide gaps there are in that\ncountry between the superimposed formations; so it is in North America,\nand in many other parts of the world. The most skilful geologist, if\nhis attention had been exclusively confined to these large territories,\nwould never have suspected that during the periods which were blank and\nbarren in his own country, great piles of sediment, charged with new and\npeculiar forms of life, had elsewhere been accumulated. And if in each\nseparate territory, hardly any idea can be formed of the length of time\nwhich has elapsed between the consecutive formations, we may infer that\nthis could nowhere be ascertained. The frequent and great changes in the\nmineralogical composition of consecutive formations, generally implying\ngreat changes in the geography of the surrounding lands, whence the\nsediment has been derived, accords with the belief of vast intervals of\ntime having elapsed between each formation.\n\nBut we can, I think, see why the geological formations of each region\nare almost invariably intermittent; that is, have not followed each\nother in close sequence. Scarcely any fact struck me more when examining\nmany hundred miles of the South American coasts, which have been\nupraised several hundred feet within the recent period, than the absence\nof any recent deposits sufficiently extensive to last for even a short\ngeological period. Along the whole west coast, which is inhabited by a\npeculiar marine fauna, tertiary beds are so scantily developed, that no\nrecord of several successive and peculiar marine faunas will probably be\npreserved to a distant age. A little reflection will explain why along\nthe rising coast of the western side of South America, no extensive\nformations with recent or tertiary remains can anywhere be found, though\nthe supply of sediment must for ages have been great, from the enormous\ndegradation of the coast-rocks and from muddy streams entering the\nsea. The explanation, no doubt, is, that the littoral and sub-littoral\ndeposits are continually worn away, as soon as they are brought up by\nthe slow and gradual rising of the land within the grinding action of\nthe coast-waves.\n\nWe may, I think, safely conclude that sediment must be accumulated in\nextremely thick, solid, or extensive masses, in order to withstand the\nincessant action of the waves, when first upraised and during subsequent\noscillations of level. Such thick and extensive accumulations of\nsediment may be formed in two ways; either, in profound depths of the\nsea, in which case, judging from the researches of E. Forbes, we may\nconclude that the bottom will be inhabited by extremely few animals, and\nthe mass when upraised will give a most imperfect record of the forms\nof life which then existed; or, sediment may be accumulated to any\nthickness and extent over a shallow bottom, if it continue slowly to\nsubside. In this latter case, as long as the rate of subsidence and\nsupply of sediment nearly balance each other, the sea will remain\nshallow and favourable for life, and thus a fossiliferous formation\nthick enough, when upraised, to resist any amount of degradation, may be\nformed.\n\nI am convinced that all our ancient formations, which are rich in\nfossils, have thus been formed during subsidence. Since publishing my\nviews on this subject in 1845, I have watched the progress of Geology,\nand have been surprised to note how author after author, in treating\nof this or that great formation, has come to the conclusion that it was\naccumulated during subsidence. I may add, that the only ancient tertiary\nformation on the west coast of South America, which has been bulky\nenough to resist such degradation as it has as yet suffered, but which\nwill hardly last to a distant geological age, was certainly deposited\nduring a downward oscillation of level, and thus gained considerable\nthickness.\n\nAll geological facts tell us plainly that each area has undergone\nnumerous slow oscillations of level, and apparently these oscillations\nhave affected wide spaces. Consequently formations rich in fossils and\nsufficiently thick and extensive to resist subsequent degradation, may\nhave been formed over wide spaces during periods of subsidence, but only\nwhere the supply of sediment was sufficient to keep the sea shallow and\nto embed and preserve the remains before they had time to decay. On the\nother hand, as long as the bed of the sea remained stationary, THICK\ndeposits could not have been accumulated in the shallow parts, which are\nthe most favourable to life. Still less could this have happened during\nthe alternate periods of elevation; or, to speak more accurately, the\nbeds which were then accumulated will have been destroyed by being\nupraised and brought within the limits of the coast-action.\n\nThus the geological record will almost necessarily be rendered\nintermittent. I feel much confidence in the truth of these views, for\nthey are in strict accordance with the general principles inculcated\nby Sir C. Lyell; and E. Forbes independently arrived at a similar\nconclusion.\n\nOne remark is here worth a passing notice. During periods of elevation\nthe area of the land and of the adjoining shoal parts of the sea will\nbe increased, and new stations will often be formed;--all circumstances\nmost favourable, as previously explained, for the formation of new\nvarieties and species; but during such periods there will generally be\na blank in the geological record. On the other hand, during subsidence,\nthe inhabited area and number of inhabitants will decrease (excepting\nthe productions on the shores of a continent when first broken up into\nan archipelago), and consequently during subsidence, though there will\nbe much extinction, fewer new varieties or species will be formed; and\nit is during these very periods of subsidence, that our great deposits\nrich in fossils have been accumulated. Nature may almost be said to have\nguarded against the frequent discovery of her transitional or linking\nforms.\n\nFrom the foregoing considerations it cannot be doubted that the\ngeological record, viewed as a whole, is extremely imperfect; but if we\nconfine our attention to any one formation, it becomes more difficult\nto understand, why we do not therein find closely graduated varieties\nbetween the allied species which lived at its commencement and at its\nclose. Some cases are on record of the same species presenting distinct\nvarieties in the upper and lower parts of the same formation, but, as\nthey are rare, they may be here passed over. Although each formation has\nindisputably required a vast number of years for its deposition, I can\nsee several reasons why each should not include a graduated series\nof links between the species which then lived; but I can by no\nmeans pretend to assign due proportional weight to the following\nconsiderations.\n\nAlthough each formation may mark a very long lapse of years, each\nperhaps is short compared with the period requisite to change one\nspecies into another. I am aware that two palaeontologists, whose\nopinions are worthy of much deference, namely Bronn and Woodward, have\nconcluded that the average duration of each formation is twice or thrice\nas long as the average duration of specific forms. But insuperable\ndifficulties, as it seems to me, prevent us coming to any just\nconclusion on this head. When we see a species first appearing in the\nmiddle of any formation, it would be rash in the extreme to infer that\nit had not elsewhere previously existed. So again when we find a species\ndisappearing before the uppermost layers have been deposited, it would\nbe equally rash to suppose that it then became wholly extinct. We forget\nhow small the area of Europe is compared with the rest of the world;\nnor have the several stages of the same formation throughout Europe been\ncorrelated with perfect accuracy.\n\nWith marine animals of all kinds, we may safely infer a large amount of\nmigration during climatal and other changes; and when we see a species\nfirst appearing in any formation, the probability is that it only then\nfirst immigrated into that area. It is well known, for instance, that\nseveral species appeared somewhat earlier in the palaeozoic beds of\nNorth America than in those of Europe; time having apparently been\nrequired for their migration from the American to the European seas. In\nexamining the latest deposits of various quarters of the world, it has\neverywhere been noted, that some few still existing species are common\nin the deposit, but have become extinct in the immediately surrounding\nsea; or, conversely, that some are now abundant in the neighbouring sea,\nbut are rare or absent in this particular deposit. It is an excellent\nlesson to reflect on the ascertained amount of migration of the\ninhabitants of Europe during the Glacial period, which forms only a part\nof one whole geological period; and likewise to reflect on the great\nchanges of level, on the inordinately great change of climate, on the\nprodigious lapse of time, all included within this same glacial period.\nYet it may be doubted whether in any quarter of the world, sedimentary\ndeposits, INCLUDING FOSSIL REMAINS, have gone on accumulating within\nthe same area during the whole of this period. It is not, for instance,\nprobable that sediment was deposited during the whole of the glacial\nperiod near the mouth of the Mississippi, within that limit of depth at\nwhich marine animals can flourish; for we know what vast geographical\nchanges occurred in other parts of America during this space of time.\nWhen such beds as were deposited in shallow water near the mouth of\nthe Mississippi during some part of the glacial period shall have been\nupraised, organic remains will probably first appear and disappear at\ndifferent levels, owing to the migration of species and to geographical\nchanges. And in the distant future, a geologist examining these beds,\nmight be tempted to conclude that the average duration of life of the\nembedded fossils had been less than that of the glacial period, instead\nof having been really far greater, that is extending from before the\nglacial epoch to the present day.\n\nIn order to get a perfect gradation between two forms in the upper\nand lower parts of the same formation, the deposit must have gone on\naccumulating for a very long period, in order to have given sufficient\ntime for the slow process of variation; hence the deposit will generally\nhave to be a very thick one; and the species undergoing modification\nwill have had to live on the same area throughout this whole time.\nBut we have seen that a thick fossiliferous formation can only be\naccumulated during a period of subsidence; and to keep the depth\napproximately the same, which is necessary in order to enable the same\nspecies to live on the same space, the supply of sediment must nearly\nhave counterbalanced the amount of subsidence. But this same movement\nof subsidence will often tend to sink the area whence the sediment\nis derived, and thus diminish the supply whilst the downward movement\ncontinues. In fact, this nearly exact balancing between the supply of\nsediment and the amount of subsidence is probably a rare contingency;\nfor it has been observed by more than one palaeontologist, that very\nthick deposits are usually barren of organic remains, except near their\nupper or lower limits.\n\nIt would seem that each separate formation, like the whole pile of\nformations in any country, has generally been intermittent in its\naccumulation. When we see, as is so often the case, a formation composed\nof beds of different mineralogical composition, we may reasonably\nsuspect that the process of deposition has been much interrupted, as\na change in the currents of the sea and a supply of sediment of a\ndifferent nature will generally have been due to geographical changes\nrequiring much time. Nor will the closest inspection of a formation give\nany idea of the time which its deposition has consumed. Many instances\ncould be given of beds only a few feet in thickness, representing\nformations, elsewhere thousands of feet in thickness, and which must\nhave required an enormous period for their accumulation; yet no one\nignorant of this fact would have suspected the vast lapse of time\nrepresented by the thinner formation. Many cases could be given of the\nlower beds of a formation having been upraised, denuded, submerged, and\nthen re-covered by the upper beds of the same formation,--facts,\nshowing what wide, yet easily overlooked, intervals have occurred in\nits accumulation. In other cases we have the plainest evidence in great\nfossilised trees, still standing upright as they grew, of many long\nintervals of time and changes of level during the process of deposition,\nwhich would never even have been suspected, had not the trees chanced to\nhave been preserved: thus, Messrs. Lyell and Dawson found carboniferous\nbeds 1400 feet thick in Nova Scotia, with ancient root-bearing strata,\none above the other, at no less than sixty-eight different levels.\nHence, when the same species occur at the bottom, middle, and top of a\nformation, the probability is that they have not lived on the same\nspot during the whole period of deposition, but have disappeared and\nreappeared, perhaps many times, during the same geological period.\nSo that if such species were to undergo a considerable amount of\nmodification during any one geological period, a section would not\nprobably include all the fine intermediate gradations which must on\nmy theory have existed between them, but abrupt, though perhaps very\nslight, changes of form.\n\nIt is all-important to remember that naturalists have no golden rule\nby which to distinguish species and varieties; they grant some little\nvariability to each species, but when they meet with a somewhat greater\namount of difference between any two forms, they rank both as species,\nunless they are enabled to connect them together by close intermediate\ngradations. And this from the reasons just assigned we can seldom hope\nto effect in any one geological section. Supposing B and C to be two\nspecies, and a third, A, to be found in an underlying bed; even if A\nwere strictly intermediate between B and C, it would simply be ranked as\na third and distinct species, unless at the same time it could be\nmost closely connected with either one or both forms by intermediate\nvarieties. Nor should it be forgotten, as before explained, that A\nmight be the actual progenitor of B and C, and yet might not at all\nnecessarily be strictly intermediate between them in all points of\nstructure. So that we might obtain the parent-species and its several\nmodified descendants from the lower and upper beds of a formation,\nand unless we obtained numerous transitional gradations, we should not\nrecognise their relationship, and should consequently be compelled to\nrank them all as distinct species.\n\nIt is notorious on what excessively slight differences many\npalaeontologists have founded their species; and they do this the more\nreadily if the specimens come from different sub-stages of the same\nformation. Some experienced conchologists are now sinking many of the\nvery fine species of D'Orbigny and others into the rank of varieties;\nand on this view we do find the kind of evidence of change which on my\ntheory we ought to find. Moreover, if we look to rather wider intervals,\nnamely, to distinct but consecutive stages of the same great formation,\nwe find that the embedded fossils, though almost universally ranked as\nspecifically different, yet are far more closely allied to each other\nthan are the species found in more widely separated formations; but to\nthis subject I shall have to return in the following chapter.\n\nOne other consideration is worth notice: with animals and plants that\ncan propagate rapidly and are not highly locomotive, there is reason to\nsuspect, as we have formerly seen, that their varieties are generally\nat first local; and that such local varieties do not spread widely and\nsupplant their parent-forms until they have been modified and perfected\nin some considerable degree. According to this view, the chance of\ndiscovering in a formation in any one country all the early stages of\ntransition between any two forms, is small, for the successive changes\nare supposed to have been local or confined to some one spot. Most\nmarine animals have a wide range; and we have seen that with plants it\nis those which have the widest range, that oftenest present varieties;\nso that with shells and other marine animals, it is probably those\nwhich have had the widest range, far exceeding the limits of the known\ngeological formations of Europe, which have oftenest given rise, first\nto local varieties and ultimately to new species; and this again would\ngreatly lessen the chance of our being able to trace the stages of\ntransition in any one geological formation.\n\nIt should not be forgotten, that at the present day, with perfect\nspecimens for examination, two forms can seldom be connected by\nintermediate varieties and thus proved to be the same species, until\nmany specimens have been collected from many places; and in the case\nof fossil species this could rarely be effected by palaeontologists. We\nshall, perhaps, best perceive the improbability of our being enabled to\nconnect species by numerous, fine, intermediate, fossil links, by asking\nourselves whether, for instance, geologists at some future period will\nbe able to prove, that our different breeds of cattle, sheep, horses,\nand dogs have descended from a single stock or from several aboriginal\nstocks; or, again, whether certain sea-shells inhabiting the shores\nof North America, which are ranked by some conchologists as distinct\nspecies from their European representatives, and by other conchologists\nas only varieties, are really varieties or are, as it is called,\nspecifically distinct. This could be effected only by the future\ngeologist discovering in a fossil state numerous intermediate\ngradations; and such success seems to me improbable in the highest\ndegree.\n\nGeological research, though it has added numerous species to existing\nand extinct genera, and has made the intervals between some few groups\nless wide than they otherwise would have been, yet has done scarcely\nanything in breaking down the distinction between species, by connecting\nthem together by numerous, fine, intermediate varieties; and this not\nhaving been effected, is probably the gravest and most obvious of all\nthe many objections which may be urged against my views. Hence it will\nbe worth while to sum up the foregoing remarks, under an imaginary\nillustration. The Malay Archipelago is of about the size of Europe from\nthe North Cape to the Mediterranean, and from Britain to Russia; and\ntherefore equals all the geological formations which have been examined\nwith any accuracy, excepting those of the United States of America. I\nfully agree with Mr. Godwin-Austen, that the present condition of the\nMalay Archipelago, with its numerous large islands separated by wide and\nshallow seas, probably represents the former state of Europe, when most\nof our formations were accumulating. The Malay Archipelago is one of\nthe richest regions of the whole world in organic beings; yet if all\nthe species were to be collected which have ever lived there, how\nimperfectly would they represent the natural history of the world!\n\nBut we have every reason to believe that the terrestrial productions of\nthe archipelago would be preserved in an excessively imperfect manner in\nthe formations which we suppose to be there accumulating. I suspect that\nnot many of the strictly littoral animals, or of those which lived on\nnaked submarine rocks, would be embedded; and those embedded in gravel\nor sand, would not endure to a distant epoch. Wherever sediment did not\naccumulate on the bed of the sea, or where it did not accumulate at a\nsufficient rate to protect organic bodies from decay, no remains could\nbe preserved.\n\nIn our archipelago, I believe that fossiliferous formations could be\nformed of sufficient thickness to last to an age, as distant in futurity\nas the secondary formations lie in the past, only during periods of\nsubsidence. These periods of subsidence would be separated from each\nother by enormous intervals, during which the area would be either\nstationary or rising; whilst rising, each fossiliferous formation\nwould be destroyed, almost as soon as accumulated, by the incessant\ncoast-action, as we now see on the shores of South America. During the\nperiods of subsidence there would probably be much extinction of life;\nduring the periods of elevation, there would be much variation, but the\ngeological record would then be least perfect.\n\nIt may be doubted whether the duration of any one great period of\nsubsidence over the whole or part of the archipelago, together with\na contemporaneous accumulation of sediment, would EXCEED the average\nduration of the same specific forms; and these contingencies are\nindispensable for the preservation of all the transitional gradations\nbetween any two or more species. If such gradations were not fully\npreserved, transitional varieties would merely appear as so many\ndistinct species. It is, also, probable that each great period of\nsubsidence would be interrupted by oscillations of level, and that\nslight climatal changes would intervene during such lengthy periods; and\nin these cases the inhabitants of the archipelago would have to migrate,\nand no closely consecutive record of their modifications could be\npreserved in any one formation.\n\nVery many of the marine inhabitants of the archipelago now range\nthousands of miles beyond its confines; and analogy leads me to believe\nthat it would be chiefly these far-ranging species which would oftenest\nproduce new varieties; and the varieties would at first generally\nbe local or confined to one place, but if possessed of any decided\nadvantage, or when further modified and improved, they would slowly\nspread and supplant their parent-forms. When such varieties returned to\ntheir ancient homes, as they would differ from their former state, in\na nearly uniform, though perhaps extremely slight degree, they would,\naccording to the principles followed by many palaeontologists, be ranked\nas new and distinct species.\n\nIf then, there be some degree of truth in these remarks, we have no\nright to expect to find in our geological formations, an infinite number\nof those fine transitional forms, which on my theory assuredly have\nconnected all the past and present species of the same group into one\nlong and branching chain of life. We ought only to look for a few links,\nsome more closely, some more distantly related to each other; and these\nlinks, let them be ever so close, if found in different stages of the\nsame formation, would, by most palaeontologists, be ranked as distinct\nspecies. But I do not pretend that I should ever have suspected how poor\na record of the mutations of life, the best preserved geological section\npresented, had not the difficulty of our not discovering innumerable\ntransitional links between the species which appeared at the\ncommencement and close of each formation, pressed so hardly on my\ntheory.\n\nON THE SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF WHOLE GROUPS OF ALLIED SPECIES.\n\nThe abrupt manner in which whole groups of species suddenly appear in\ncertain formations, has been urged by several palaeontologists,\nfor instance, by Agassiz, Pictet, and by none more forcibly than\nby Professor Sedgwick, as a fatal objection to the belief in the\ntransmutation of species. If numerous species, belonging to the same\ngenera or families, have really started into life all at once, the fact\nwould be fatal to the theory of descent with slow modification through\nnatural selection. For the development of a group of forms, all of which\nhave descended from some one progenitor, must have been an extremely\nslow process; and the progenitors must have lived long ages before their\nmodified descendants. But we continually over-rate the perfection of the\ngeological record, and falsely infer, because certain genera or families\nhave not been found beneath a certain stage, that they did not exist\nbefore that stage. We continually forget how large the world is,\ncompared with the area over which our geological formations have been\ncarefully examined; we forget that groups of species may elsewhere have\nlong existed and have slowly multiplied before they invaded the ancient\narchipelagoes of Europe and of the United States. We do not make due\nallowance for the enormous intervals of time, which have probably\nelapsed between our consecutive formations,--longer perhaps in some\ncases than the time required for the accumulation of each formation.\nThese intervals will have given time for the multiplication of species\nfrom some one or some few parent-forms; and in the succeeding formation\nsuch species will appear as if suddenly created.\n\nI may here recall a remark formerly made, namely that it might require\na long succession of ages to adapt an organism to some new and peculiar\nline of life, for instance to fly through the air; but that when this\nhad been effected, and a few species had thus acquired a great advantage\nover other organisms, a comparatively short time would be necessary to\nproduce many divergent forms, which would be able to spread rapidly and\nwidely throughout the world.\n\nI will now give a few examples to illustrate these remarks; and to show\nhow liable we are to error in supposing that whole groups of species\nhave suddenly been produced. I may recall the well-known fact that in\ngeological treatises, published not many years ago, the great class\nof mammals was always spoken of as having abruptly come in at the\ncommencement of the tertiary series. And now one of the richest known\naccumulations of fossil mammals belongs to the middle of the secondary\nseries; and one true mammal has been discovered in the new red sandstone\nat nearly the commencement of this great series. Cuvier used to urge\nthat no monkey occurred in any tertiary stratum; but now extinct species\nhave been discovered in India, South America, and in Europe even as far\nback as the eocene stage. The most striking case, however, is that of\nthe Whale family; as these animals have huge bones, are marine, and\nrange over the world, the fact of not a single bone of a whale having\nbeen discovered in any secondary formation, seemed fully to justify the\nbelief that this great and distinct order had been suddenly produced\nin the interval between the latest secondary and earliest tertiary\nformation. But now we may read in the Supplement to Lyell's 'Manual,'\npublished in 1858, clear evidence of the existence of whales in the\nupper greensand, some time before the close of the secondary period.\n\nI may give another instance, which from having passed under my own eyes\nhas much struck me. In a memoir on Fossil Sessile Cirripedes, I have\nstated that, from the number of existing and extinct tertiary species;\nfrom the extraordinary abundance of the individuals of many species\nall over the world, from the Arctic regions to the equator, inhabiting\nvarious zones of depths from the upper tidal limits to 50 fathoms;\nfrom the perfect manner in which specimens are preserved in the oldest\ntertiary beds; from the ease with which even a fragment of a valve can\nbe recognised; from all these circumstances, I inferred that had sessile\ncirripedes existed during the secondary periods, they would certainly\nhave been preserved and discovered; and as not one species had been\ndiscovered in beds of this age, I concluded that this great group had\nbeen suddenly developed at the commencement of the tertiary series. This\nwas a sore trouble to me, adding as I thought one more instance of the\nabrupt appearance of a great group of species. But my work had hardly\nbeen published, when a skilful palaeontologist, M. Bosquet, sent me a\ndrawing of a perfect specimen of an unmistakeable sessile cirripede,\nwhich he had himself extracted from the chalk of Belgium. And, as if\nto make the case as striking as possible, this sessile cirripede was a\nChthamalus, a very common, large, and ubiquitous genus, of which not one\nspecimen has as yet been found even in any tertiary stratum. Hence we\nnow positively know that sessile cirripedes existed during the secondary\nperiod; and these cirripedes might have been the progenitors of our many\ntertiary and existing species.\n\nThe case most frequently insisted on by palaeontologists of the\napparently sudden appearance of a whole group of species, is that of the\nteleostean fishes, low down in the Chalk period. This group includes the\nlarge majority of existing species. Lately, Professor Pictet has carried\ntheir existence one sub-stage further back; and some palaeontologists\nbelieve that certain much older fishes, of which the affinities are as\nyet imperfectly known, are really teleostean. Assuming, however, that\nthe whole of them did appear, as Agassiz believes, at the commencement\nof the chalk formation, the fact would certainly be highly remarkable;\nbut I cannot see that it would be an insuperable difficulty on my\ntheory, unless it could likewise be shown that the species of this group\nappeared suddenly and simultaneously throughout the world at this same\nperiod. It is almost superfluous to remark that hardly any fossil-fish\nare known from south of the equator; and by running through Pictet's\nPalaeontology it will be seen that very few species are known from\nseveral formations in Europe. Some few families of fish now have a\nconfined range; the teleostean fish might formerly have had a similarly\nconfined range, and after having been largely developed in some one sea,\nmight have spread widely. Nor have we any right to suppose that the seas\nof the world have always been so freely open from south to north as\nthey are at present. Even at this day, if the Malay Archipelago were\nconverted into land, the tropical parts of the Indian Ocean would form\na large and perfectly enclosed basin, in which any great group of marine\nanimals might be multiplied; and here they would remain confined, until\nsome of the species became adapted to a cooler climate, and were enabled\nto double the southern capes of Africa or Australia, and thus reach\nother and distant seas.\n\nFrom these and similar considerations, but chiefly from our ignorance\nof the geology of other countries beyond the confines of Europe and the\nUnited States; and from the revolution in our palaeontological ideas\non many points, which the discoveries of even the last dozen years have\neffected, it seems to me to be about as rash in us to dogmatize on the\nsuccession of organic beings throughout the world, as it would be for\na naturalist to land for five minutes on some one barren point in\nAustralia, and then to discuss the number and range of its productions.\n\nON THE SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF GROUPS OF ALLIED SPECIES IN THE LOWEST KNOWN\nFOSSILIFEROUS STRATA.\n\nThere is another and allied difficulty, which is much graver. I allude\nto the manner in which numbers of species of the same group, suddenly\nappear in the lowest known fossiliferous rocks. Most of the arguments\nwhich have convinced me that all the existing species of the same group\nhave descended from one progenitor, apply with nearly equal force to\nthe earliest known species. For instance, I cannot doubt that all the\nSilurian trilobites have descended from some one crustacean, which must\nhave lived long before the Silurian age, and which probably differed\ngreatly from any known animal. Some of the most ancient Silurian\nanimals, as the Nautilus, Lingula, etc., do not differ much from living\nspecies; and it cannot on my theory be supposed, that these old species\nwere the progenitors of all the species of the orders to which they\nbelong, for they do not present characters in any degree intermediate\nbetween them. If, moreover, they had been the progenitors of these\norders, they would almost certainly have been long ago supplanted and\nexterminated by their numerous and improved descendants.\n\nConsequently, if my theory be true, it is indisputable that before the\nlowest Silurian stratum was deposited, long periods elapsed, as long as,\nor probably far longer than, the whole interval from the Silurian age to\nthe present day; and that during these vast, yet quite unknown, periods\nof time, the world swarmed with living creatures.\n\nTo the question why we do not find records of these vast primordial\nperiods, I can give no satisfactory answer. Several of the most eminent\ngeologists, with Sir R. Murchison at their head, are convinced that we\nsee in the organic remains of the lowest Silurian stratum the dawn of\nlife on this planet. Other highly competent judges, as Lyell and the\nlate E. Forbes, dispute this conclusion. We should not forget that only\na small portion of the world is known with accuracy. M. Barrande has\nlately added another and lower stage to the Silurian system, abounding\nwith new and peculiar species. Traces of life have been detected in the\nLongmynd beds beneath Barrande's so-called primordial zone. The presence\nof phosphatic nodules and bituminous matter in some of the lowest azoic\nrocks, probably indicates the former existence of life at these periods.\nBut the difficulty of understanding the absence of vast piles of\nfossiliferous strata, which on my theory no doubt were somewhere\naccumulated before the Silurian epoch, is very great. If these most\nancient beds had been wholly worn away by denudation, or obliterated\nby metamorphic action, we ought to find only small remnants of the\nformations next succeeding them in age, and these ought to be very\ngenerally in a metamorphosed condition. But the descriptions which we\nnow possess of the Silurian deposits over immense territories in\nRussia and in North America, do not support the view, that the older a\nformation is, the more it has suffered the extremity of denudation and\nmetamorphism.\n\nThe case at present must remain inexplicable; and may be truly urged as\na valid argument against the views here entertained. To show that it\nmay hereafter receive some explanation, I will give the following\nhypothesis. From the nature of the organic remains, which do not appear\nto have inhabited profound depths, in the several formations of Europe\nand of the United States; and from the amount of sediment, miles in\nthickness, of which the formations are composed, we may infer that from\nfirst to last large islands or tracts of land, whence the sediment was\nderived, occurred in the neighbourhood of the existing continents of\nEurope and North America. But we do not know what was the state of\nthings in the intervals between the successive formations; whether\nEurope and the United States during these intervals existed as dry\nland, or as a submarine surface near land, on which sediment was not\ndeposited, or again as the bed of an open and unfathomable sea.\n\nLooking to the existing oceans, which are thrice as extensive as the\nland, we see them studded with many islands; but not one oceanic island\nis as yet known to afford even a remnant of any palaeozoic or secondary\nformation. Hence we may perhaps infer, that during the palaeozoic and\nsecondary periods, neither continents nor continental islands existed\nwhere our oceans now extend; for had they existed there, palaeozoic and\nsecondary formations would in all probability have been accumulated from\nsediment derived from their wear and tear; and would have been at least\npartially upheaved by the oscillations of level, which we may fairly\nconclude must have intervened during these enormously long periods. If\nthen we may infer anything from these facts, we may infer that where\nour oceans now extend, oceans have extended from the remotest period of\nwhich we have any record; and on the other hand, that where continents\nnow exist, large tracts of land have existed, subjected no doubt to\ngreat oscillations of level, since the earliest silurian period. The\ncoloured map appended to my volume on Coral Reefs, led me to conclude\nthat the great oceans are still mainly areas of subsidence, the great\narchipelagoes still areas of oscillations of level, and the continents\nareas of elevation. But have we any right to assume that things have\nthus remained from eternity? Our continents seem to have been formed\nby a preponderance, during many oscillations of level, of the force of\nelevation; but may not the areas of preponderant movement have changed\nin the lapse of ages? At a period immeasurably antecedent to the\nsilurian epoch, continents may have existed where oceans are now spread\nout; and clear and open oceans may have existed where our continents now\nstand. Nor should we be justified in assuming that if, for instance, the\nbed of the Pacific Ocean were now converted into a continent, we should\nthere find formations older than the silurian strata, supposing such to\nhave been formerly deposited; for it might well happen that strata which\nhad subsided some miles nearer to the centre of the earth, and which\nhad been pressed on by an enormous weight of superincumbent water, might\nhave undergone far more metamorphic action than strata which have always\nremained nearer to the surface. The immense areas in some parts of the\nworld, for instance in South America, of bare metamorphic rocks, which\nmust have been heated under great pressure, have always seemed to me to\nrequire some special explanation; and we may perhaps believe that we see\nin these large areas, the many formations long anterior to the silurian\nepoch in a completely metamorphosed condition.\n\nThe several difficulties here discussed, namely our not finding in the\nsuccessive formations infinitely numerous transitional links between the\nmany species which now exist or have existed; the sudden manner in which\nwhole groups of species appear in our European formations; the almost\nentire absence, as at present known, of fossiliferous formations beneath\nthe Silurian strata, are all undoubtedly of the gravest nature. We\nsee this in the plainest manner by the fact that all the most eminent\npalaeontologists, namely Cuvier, Owen, Agassiz, Barrande, Falconer,\nE. Forbes, etc., and all our greatest geologists, as Lyell, Murchison,\nSedgwick, etc., have unanimously, often vehemently, maintained the\nimmutability of species. But I have reason to believe that one great\nauthority, Sir Charles Lyell, from further reflexion entertains grave\ndoubts on this subject. I feel how rash it is to differ from these great\nauthorities, to whom, with others, we owe all our knowledge. Those who\nthink the natural geological record in any degree perfect, and who do\nnot attach much weight to the facts and arguments of other kinds given\nin this volume, will undoubtedly at once reject my theory. For my part,\nfollowing out Lyell's metaphor, I look at the natural geological record,\nas a history of the world imperfectly kept, and written in a changing\ndialect; of this history we possess the last volume alone, relating only\nto two or three countries. Of this volume, only here and there a short\nchapter has been preserved; and of each page, only here and there a few\nlines. Each word of the slowly-changing language, in which the\nhistory is supposed to be written, being more or less different in\nthe interrupted succession of chapters, may represent the apparently\nabruptly changed forms of life, entombed in our consecutive, but widely\nseparated formations. On this view, the difficulties above discussed are\ngreatly diminished, or even disappear.\n\n\n\n\n10. ON THE GEOLOGICAL SUCCESSION OF ORGANIC BEINGS.\n\nOn the slow and successive appearance of new species. On their different\nrates of change. Species once lost do not reappear. Groups of species\nfollow the same general rules in their appearance and disappearance as\ndo single species. On Extinction. On simultaneous changes in the forms\nof life throughout the world. On the affinities of extinct species to\neach other and to living species. On the state of development of ancient\nforms. On the succession of the same types within the same areas.\nSummary of preceding and present chapters.\n\nLet us now see whether the several facts and rules relating to the\ngeological succession of organic beings, better accord with the common\nview of the immutability of species, or with that of their slow and\ngradual modification, through descent and natural selection.\n\nNew species have appeared very slowly, one after another, both on the\nland and in the waters. Lyell has shown that it is hardly possible to\nresist the evidence on this head in the case of the several tertiary\nstages; and every year tends to fill up the blanks between them, and to\nmake the percentage system of lost and new forms more gradual. In\nsome of the most recent beds, though undoubtedly of high antiquity if\nmeasured by years, only one or two species are lost forms, and only one\nor two are new forms, having here appeared for the first time, either\nlocally, or, as far as we know, on the face of the earth. If we may\ntrust the observations of Philippi in Sicily, the successive changes in\nthe marine inhabitants of that island have been many and most gradual.\nThe secondary formations are more broken; but, as Bronn has remarked,\nneither the appearance nor disappearance of their many now extinct\nspecies has been simultaneous in each separate formation.\n\nSpecies of different genera and classes have not changed at the same\nrate, or in the same degree. In the oldest tertiary beds a few living\nshells may still be found in the midst of a multitude of extinct forms.\nFalconer has given a striking instance of a similar fact, in an existing\ncrocodile associated with many strange and lost mammals and reptiles in\nthe sub-Himalayan deposits. The Silurian Lingula differs but little from\nthe living species of this genus; whereas most of the other Silurian\nMolluscs and all the Crustaceans have changed greatly. The productions\nof the land seem to change at a quicker rate than those of the sea, of\nwhich a striking instance has lately been observed in Switzerland. There\nis some reason to believe that organisms, considered high in the scale\nof nature, change more quickly than those that are low: though there\nare exceptions to this rule. The amount of organic change, as Pictet\nhas remarked, does not strictly correspond with the succession of our\ngeological formations; so that between each two consecutive formations,\nthe forms of life have seldom changed in exactly the same degree. Yet if\nwe compare any but the most closely related formations, all the species\nwill be found to have undergone some change. When a species has once\ndisappeared from the face of the earth, we have reason to believe\nthat the same identical form never reappears. The strongest apparent\nexception to this latter rule, is that of the so-called \"colonies\" of M.\nBarrande, which intrude for a period in the midst of an older formation,\nand then allow the pre-existing fauna to reappear; but Lyell's\nexplanation, namely, that it is a case of temporary migration from a\ndistinct geographical province, seems to me satisfactory.\n\nThese several facts accord well with my theory. I believe in no fixed\nlaw of development, causing all the inhabitants of a country to change\nabruptly, or simultaneously, or to an equal degree. The process of\nmodification must be extremely slow. The variability of each species\nis quite independent of that of all others. Whether such variability be\ntaken advantage of by natural selection, and whether the variations be\naccumulated to a greater or lesser amount, thus causing a greater or\nlesser amount of modification in the varying species, depends on many\ncomplex contingencies,--on the variability being of a beneficial nature,\non the power of intercrossing, on the rate of breeding, on the slowly\nchanging physical conditions of the country, and more especially on the\nnature of the other inhabitants with which the varying species comes\ninto competition. Hence it is by no means surprising that one species\nshould retain the same identical form much longer than others; or,\nif changing, that it should change less. We see the same fact in\ngeographical distribution; for instance, in the land-shells and\ncoleopterous insects of Madeira having come to differ considerably from\ntheir nearest allies on the continent of Europe, whereas the marine\nshells and birds have remained unaltered. We can perhaps understand\nthe apparently quicker rate of change in terrestrial and in more highly\norganised productions compared with marine and lower productions, by\nthe more complex relations of the higher beings to their organic and\ninorganic conditions of life, as explained in a former chapter. When\nmany of the inhabitants of a country have become modified and improved,\nwe can understand, on the principle of competition, and on that of the\nmany all-important relations of organism to organism, that any form\nwhich does not become in some degree modified and improved, will be\nliable to be exterminated. Hence we can see why all the species in the\nsame region do at last, if we look to wide enough intervals of time,\nbecome modified; for those which do not change will become extinct.\n\nIn members of the same class the average amount of change, during long\nand equal periods of time, may, perhaps, be nearly the same; but as the\naccumulation of long-enduring fossiliferous formations depends on great\nmasses of sediment having been deposited on areas whilst subsiding,\nour formations have been almost necessarily accumulated at wide and\nirregularly intermittent intervals; consequently the amount of organic\nchange exhibited by the fossils embedded in consecutive formations\nis not equal. Each formation, on this view, does not mark a new and\ncomplete act of creation, but only an occasional scene, taken almost at\nhazard, in a slowly changing drama.\n\nWe can clearly understand why a species when once lost should never\nreappear, even if the very same conditions of life, organic and\ninorganic, should recur. For though the offspring of one species might\nbe adapted (and no doubt this has occurred in innumerable instances) to\nfill the exact place of another species in the economy of nature, and\nthus supplant it; yet the two forms--the old and the new--would not be\nidentically the same; for both would almost certainly inherit different\ncharacters from their distinct progenitors. For instance, it is just\npossible, if our fantail-pigeons were all destroyed, that fanciers, by\nstriving during long ages for the same object, might make a new breed\nhardly distinguishable from our present fantail; but if the parent\nrock-pigeon were also destroyed, and in nature we have every reason\nto believe that the parent-form will generally be supplanted and\nexterminated by its improved offspring, it is quite incredible that a\nfantail, identical with the existing breed, could be raised from any\nother species of pigeon, or even from the other well-established races\nof the domestic pigeon, for the newly-formed fantail would be almost\nsure to inherit from its new progenitor some slight characteristic\ndifferences.\n\nGroups of species, that is, genera and families, follow the same general\nrules in their appearance and disappearance as do single species,\nchanging more or less quickly, and in a greater or lesser degree. A\ngroup does not reappear after it has once disappeared; or its existence,\nas long as it lasts, is continuous. I am aware that there are some\napparent exceptions to this rule, but the exceptions are surprisingly\nfew, so few, that E. Forbes, Pictet, and Woodward (though all strongly\nopposed to such views as I maintain) admit its truth; and the rule\nstrictly accords with my theory. For as all the species of the same\ngroup have descended from some one species, it is clear that as long as\nany species of the group have appeared in the long succession of ages,\nso long must its members have continuously existed, in order to have\ngenerated either new and modified or the same old and unmodified forms.\nSpecies of the genus Lingula, for instance, must have continuously\nexisted by an unbroken succession of generations, from the lowest\nSilurian stratum to the present day.\n\nWe have seen in the last chapter that the species of a group sometimes\nfalsely appear to have come in abruptly; and I have attempted to give\nan explanation of this fact, which if true would have been fatal to my\nviews. But such cases are certainly exceptional; the general rule being\na gradual increase in number, till the group reaches its maximum, and\nthen, sooner or later, it gradually decreases. If the number of\nthe species of a genus, or the number of the genera of a family, be\nrepresented by a vertical line of varying thickness, crossing the\nsuccessive geological formations in which the species are found, the\nline will sometimes falsely appear to begin at its lower end, not in a\nsharp point, but abruptly; it then gradually thickens upwards, sometimes\nkeeping for a space of equal thickness, and ultimately thins out in the\nupper beds, marking the decrease and final extinction of the species.\nThis gradual increase in number of the species of a group is strictly\nconformable with my theory; as the species of the same genus, and the\ngenera of the same family, can increase only slowly and progressively;\nfor the process of modification and the production of a number of allied\nforms must be slow and gradual,--one species giving rise first to two\nor three varieties, these being slowly converted into species, which in\ntheir turn produce by equally slow steps other species, and so on, like\nthe branching of a great tree from a single stem, till the group becomes\nlarge.\n\nON EXTINCTION.\n\nWe have as yet spoken only incidentally of the disappearance of species\nand of groups of species. On the theory of natural selection the\nextinction of old forms and the production of new and improved forms are\nintimately connected together. The old notion of all the inhabitants of\nthe earth having been swept away at successive periods by catastrophes,\nis very generally given up, even by those geologists, as Elie de\nBeaumont, Murchison, Barrande, etc., whose general views would naturally\nlead them to this conclusion. On the contrary, we have every reason to\nbelieve, from the study of the tertiary formations, that species and\ngroups of species gradually disappear, one after another, first from one\nspot, then from another, and finally from the world. Both single species\nand whole groups of species last for very unequal periods; some groups,\nas we have seen, having endured from the earliest known dawn of life\nto the present day; some having disappeared before the close of the\npalaeozoic period. No fixed law seems to determine the length of time\nduring which any single species or any single genus endures. There is\nreason to believe that the complete extinction of the species of a group\nis generally a slower process than their production: if the appearance\nand disappearance of a group of species be represented, as before, by\na vertical line of varying thickness, the line is found to taper more\ngradually at its upper end, which marks the progress of extermination,\nthan at its lower end, which marks the first appearance and increase\nin numbers of the species. In some cases, however, the extermination\nof whole groups of beings, as of ammonites towards the close of the\nsecondary period, has been wonderfully sudden.\n\nThe whole subject of the extinction of species has been involved in the\nmost gratuitous mystery. Some authors have even supposed that as the\nindividual has a definite length of life, so have species a definite\nduration. No one I think can have marvelled more at the extinction of\nspecies, than I have done. When I found in La Plata the tooth of a horse\nembedded with the remains of Mastodon, Megatherium, Toxodon, and other\nextinct monsters, which all co-existed with still living shells at a\nvery late geological period, I was filled with astonishment; for seeing\nthat the horse, since its introduction by the Spaniards into South\nAmerica, has run wild over the whole country and has increased in\nnumbers at an unparalleled rate, I asked myself what could so recently\nhave exterminated the former horse under conditions of life apparently\nso favourable. But how utterly groundless was my astonishment! Professor\nOwen soon perceived that the tooth, though so like that of the existing\nhorse, belonged to an extinct species. Had this horse been still\nliving, but in some degree rare, no naturalist would have felt the least\nsurprise at its rarity; for rarity is the attribute of a vast number of\nspecies of all classes, in all countries. If we ask ourselves why this\nor that species is rare, we answer that something is unfavourable in its\nconditions of life; but what that something is, we can hardly ever tell.\nOn the supposition of the fossil horse still existing as a rare species,\nwe might have felt certain from the analogy of all other mammals,\neven of the slow-breeding elephant, and from the history of the\nnaturalisation of the domestic horse in South America, that under more\nfavourable conditions it would in a very few years have stocked the\nwhole continent. But we could not have told what the unfavourable\nconditions were which checked its increase, whether some one or several\ncontingencies, and at what period of the horse's life, and in what\ndegree, they severally acted. If the conditions had gone on, however\nslowly, becoming less and less favourable, we assuredly should not have\nperceived the fact, yet the fossil horse would certainly have become\nrarer and rarer, and finally extinct;--its place being seized on by some\nmore successful competitor.\n\nIt is most difficult always to remember that the increase of every\nliving being is constantly being checked by unperceived injurious\nagencies; and that these same unperceived agencies are amply sufficient\nto cause rarity, and finally extinction. We see in many cases in the\nmore recent tertiary formations, that rarity precedes extinction; and we\nknow that this has been the progress of events with those animals which\nhave been exterminated, either locally or wholly, through man's agency.\nI may repeat what I published in 1845, namely, that to admit that\nspecies generally become rare before they become extinct--to feel no\nsurprise at the rarity of a species, and yet to marvel greatly when\nit ceases to exist, is much the same as to admit that sickness in the\nindividual is the forerunner of death--to feel no surprise at sickness,\nbut when the sick man dies, to wonder and to suspect that he died by\nsome unknown deed of violence.\n\nThe theory of natural selection is grounded on the belief that each new\nvariety, and ultimately each new species, is produced and maintained by\nhaving some advantage over those with which it comes into competition;\nand the consequent extinction of less-favoured forms almost inevitably\nfollows. It is the same with our domestic productions: when a new and\nslightly improved variety has been raised, it at first supplants the\nless improved varieties in the same neighbourhood; when much improved it\nis transported far and near, like our short-horn cattle, and takes the\nplace of other breeds in other countries. Thus the appearance of new\nforms and the disappearance of old forms, both natural and artificial,\nare bound together. In certain flourishing groups, the number of new\nspecific forms which have been produced within a given time is probably\ngreater than that of the old forms which have been exterminated; but we\nknow that the number of species has not gone on indefinitely increasing,\nat least during the later geological periods, so that looking to later\ntimes we may believe that the production of new forms has caused the\nextinction of about the same number of old forms.\n\nThe competition will generally be most severe, as formerly explained\nand illustrated by examples, between the forms which are most like each\nother in all respects. Hence the improved and modified descendants of\na species will generally cause the extermination of the parent-species;\nand if many new forms have been developed from any one species, the\nnearest allies of that species, i.e. the species of the same genus, will\nbe the most liable to extermination. Thus, as I believe, a number of\nnew species descended from one species, that is a new genus, comes to\nsupplant an old genus, belonging to the same family. But it must often\nhave happened that a new species belonging to some one group will have\nseized on the place occupied by a species belonging to a distinct group,\nand thus caused its extermination; and if many allied forms be developed\nfrom the successful intruder, many will have to yield their places; and\nit will generally be allied forms, which will suffer from some inherited\ninferiority in common. But whether it be species belonging to the same\nor to a distinct class, which yield their places to other species which\nhave been modified and improved, a few of the sufferers may often long\nbe preserved, from being fitted to some peculiar line of life, or from\ninhabiting some distant and isolated station, where they have escaped\nsevere competition. For instance, a single species of Trigonia, a great\ngenus of shells in the secondary formations, survives in the Australian\nseas; and a few members of the great and almost extinct group of Ganoid\nfishes still inhabit our fresh waters. Therefore the utter extinction\nof a group is generally, as we have seen, a slower process than its\nproduction.\n\nWith respect to the apparently sudden extermination of whole families\nor orders, as of Trilobites at the close of the palaeozoic period and\nof Ammonites at the close of the secondary period, we must remember what\nhas been already said on the probable wide intervals of time between our\nconsecutive formations; and in these intervals there may have been much\nslow extermination. Moreover, when by sudden immigration or by unusually\nrapid development, many species of a new group have taken possession\nof a new area, they will have exterminated in a correspondingly rapid\nmanner many of the old inhabitants; and the forms which thus yield\ntheir places will commonly be allied, for they will partake of some\ninferiority in common.\n\nThus, as it seems to me, the manner in which single species and whole\ngroups of species become extinct, accords well with the theory of\nnatural selection. We need not marvel at extinction; if we must\nmarvel, let it be at our presumption in imagining for a moment that we\nunderstand the many complex contingencies, on which the existence of\neach species depends. If we forget for an instant, that each species\ntends to increase inordinately, and that some check is always in action,\nyet seldom perceived by us, the whole economy of nature will be utterly\nobscured. Whenever we can precisely say why this species is more\nabundant in individuals than that; why this species and not another\ncan be naturalised in a given country; then, and not till then, we may\njustly feel surprise why we cannot account for the extinction of this\nparticular species or group of species.\n\nON THE FORMS OF LIFE CHANGING ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY THROUGHOUT THE\nWORLD.\n\nScarcely any palaeontological discovery is more striking than the fact,\nthat the forms of life change almost simultaneously throughout the\nworld. Thus our European Chalk formation can be recognised in many\ndistant parts of the world, under the most different climates, where not\na fragment of the mineral chalk itself can be found; namely, in North\nAmerica, in equatorial South America, in Tierra del Fuego, at the\nCape of Good Hope, and in the peninsula of India. For at these distant\npoints, the organic remains in certain beds present an unmistakeable\ndegree of resemblance to those of the Chalk. It is not that the same\nspecies are met with; for in some cases not one species is identically\nthe same, but they belong to the same families, genera, and sections\nof genera, and sometimes are similarly characterised in such trifling\npoints as mere superficial sculpture. Moreover other forms, which are\nnot found in the Chalk of Europe, but which occur in the formations\neither above or below, are similarly absent at these distant points of\nthe world. In the several successive palaeozoic formations of Russia,\nWestern Europe and North America, a similar parallelism in the forms of\nlife has been observed by several authors: so it is, according to Lyell,\nwith the several European and North American tertiary deposits. Even\nif the few fossil species which are common to the Old and New Worlds be\nkept wholly out of view, the general parallelism in the successive forms\nof life, in the stages of the widely separated palaeozoic and tertiary\nperiods, would still be manifest, and the several formations could be\neasily correlated.\n\nThese observations, however, relate to the marine inhabitants of distant\nparts of the world: we have not sufficient data to judge whether the\nproductions of the land and of fresh water change at distant points in\nthe same parallel manner. We may doubt whether they have thus changed:\nif the Megatherium, Mylodon, Macrauchenia, and Toxodon had been brought\nto Europe from La Plata, without any information in regard to their\ngeological position, no one would have suspected that they had coexisted\nwith still living sea-shells; but as these anomalous monsters coexisted\nwith the Mastodon and Horse, it might at least have been inferred that\nthey had lived during one of the latter tertiary stages.\n\nWhen the marine forms of life are spoken of as having changed\nsimultaneously throughout the world, it must not be supposed that this\nexpression relates to the same thousandth or hundred-thousandth year, or\neven that it has a very strict geological sense; for if all the marine\nanimals which live at the present day in Europe, and all those that\nlived in Europe during the pleistocene period (an enormously remote\nperiod as measured by years, including the whole glacial epoch), were to\nbe compared with those now living in South America or in Australia, the\nmost skilful naturalist would hardly be able to say whether the existing\nor the pleistocene inhabitants of Europe resembled most closely those of\nthe southern hemisphere. So, again, several highly competent observers\nbelieve that the existing productions of the United States are more\nclosely related to those which lived in Europe during certain later\ntertiary stages, than to those which now live here; and if this be so,\nit is evident that fossiliferous beds deposited at the present day on\nthe shores of North America would hereafter be liable to be classed with\nsomewhat older European beds. Nevertheless, looking to a remotely future\nepoch, there can, I think, be little doubt that all the more modern\nMARINE formations, namely, the upper pliocene, the pleistocene and\nstrictly modern beds, of Europe, North and South America, and Australia,\nfrom containing fossil remains in some degree allied, and from not\nincluding those forms which are only found in the older underlying\ndeposits, would be correctly ranked as simultaneous in a geological\nsense.\n\nThe fact of the forms of life changing simultaneously, in the above\nlarge sense, at distant parts of the world, has greatly struck those\nadmirable observers, MM. de Verneuil and d'Archiac. After referring\nto the parallelism of the palaeozoic forms of life in various parts\nof Europe, they add, \"If struck by this strange sequence, we turn our\nattention to North America, and there discover a series of analogous\nphenomena, it will appear certain that all these modifications of\nspecies, their extinction, and the introduction of new ones, cannot be\nowing to mere changes in marine currents or other causes more or less\nlocal and temporary, but depend on general laws which govern the whole\nanimal kingdom.\" M. Barrande has made forcible remarks to precisely the\nsame effect. It is, indeed, quite futile to look to changes of currents,\nclimate, or other physical conditions, as the cause of these great\nmutations in the forms of life throughout the world, under the most\ndifferent climates. We must, as Barrande has remarked, look to some\nspecial law. We shall see this more clearly when we treat of the present\ndistribution of organic beings, and find how slight is the relation\nbetween the physical conditions of various countries, and the nature of\ntheir inhabitants.\n\nThis great fact of the parallel succession of the forms of life\nthroughout the world, is explicable on the theory of natural selection.\nNew species are formed by new varieties arising, which have some\nadvantage over older forms; and those forms, which are already dominant,\nor have some advantage over the other forms in their own country, would\nnaturally oftenest give rise to new varieties or incipient species; for\nthese latter must be victorious in a still higher degree in order to be\npreserved and to survive. We have distinct evidence on this head, in\nthe plants which are dominant, that is, which are commonest in their own\nhomes, and are most widely diffused, having produced the greatest number\nof new varieties. It is also natural that the dominant, varying, and\nfar-spreading species, which already have invaded to a certain extent\nthe territories of other species, should be those which would have\nthe best chance of spreading still further, and of giving rise in new\ncountries to new varieties and species. The process of diffusion\nmay often be very slow, being dependent on climatal and geographical\nchanges, or on strange accidents, but in the long run the dominant\nforms will generally succeed in spreading. The diffusion would, it\nis probable, be slower with the terrestrial inhabitants of distinct\ncontinents than with the marine inhabitants of the continuous sea. We\nmight therefore expect to find, as we apparently do find, a less strict\ndegree of parallel succession in the productions of the land than of the\nsea.\n\nDominant species spreading from any region might encounter still more\ndominant species, and then their triumphant course, or even their\nexistence, would cease. We know not at all precisely what are all the\nconditions most favourable for the multiplication of new and dominant\nspecies; but we can, I think, clearly see that a number of individuals,\nfrom giving a better chance of the appearance of favourable variations,\nand that severe competition with many already existing forms, would\nbe highly favourable, as would be the power of spreading into new\nterritories. A certain amount of isolation, recurring at long intervals\nof time, would probably be also favourable, as before explained. One\nquarter of the world may have been most favourable for the production\nof new and dominant species on the land, and another for those in the\nwaters of the sea. If two great regions had been for a long period\nfavourably circumstanced in an equal degree, whenever their inhabitants\nmet, the battle would be prolonged and severe; and some from one\nbirthplace and some from the other might be victorious. But in the\ncourse of time, the forms dominant in the highest degree, wherever\nproduced, would tend everywhere to prevail. As they prevailed, they\nwould cause the extinction of other and inferior forms; and as these\ninferior forms would be allied in groups by inheritance, whole groups\nwould tend slowly to disappear; though here and there a single member\nmight long be enabled to survive.\n\nThus, as it seems to me, the parallel, and, taken in a large sense,\nsimultaneous, succession of the same forms of life throughout the world,\naccords well with the principle of new species having been formed by\ndominant species spreading widely and varying; the new species thus\nproduced being themselves dominant owing to inheritance, and to having\nalready had some advantage over their parents or over other species;\nthese again spreading, varying, and producing new species. The forms\nwhich are beaten and which yield their places to the new and victorious\nforms, will generally be allied in groups, from inheriting some\ninferiority in common; and therefore as new and improved groups spread\nthroughout the world, old groups will disappear from the world; and the\nsuccession of forms in both ways will everywhere tend to correspond.\n\nThere is one other remark connected with this subject worth making. I\nhave given my reasons for believing that all our greater fossiliferous\nformations were deposited during periods of subsidence; and that blank\nintervals of vast duration occurred during the periods when the bed of\nthe sea was either stationary or rising, and likewise when sediment was\nnot thrown down quickly enough to embed and preserve organic remains.\nDuring these long and blank intervals I suppose that the inhabitants\nof each region underwent a considerable amount of modification and\nextinction, and that there was much migration from other parts of the\nworld. As we have reason to believe that large areas are affected by the\nsame movement, it is probable that strictly contemporaneous formations\nhave often been accumulated over very wide spaces in the same quarter\nof the world; but we are far from having any right to conclude that this\nhas invariably been the case, and that large areas have invariably been\naffected by the same movements. When two formations have been deposited\nin two regions during nearly, but not exactly the same period, we should\nfind in both, from the causes explained in the foregoing paragraphs, the\nsame general succession in the forms of life; but the species would not\nexactly correspond; for there will have been a little more time in\nthe one region than in the other for modification, extinction, and\nimmigration.\n\nI suspect that cases of this nature have occurred in Europe. Mr.\nPrestwich, in his admirable Memoirs on the eocene deposits of England\nand France, is able to draw a close general parallelism between the\nsuccessive stages in the two countries; but when he compares certain\nstages in England with those in France, although he finds in both a\ncurious accordance in the numbers of the species belonging to the same\ngenera, yet the species themselves differ in a manner very difficult\nto account for, considering the proximity of the two areas,--unless,\nindeed, it be assumed that an isthmus separated two seas inhabited\nby distinct, but contemporaneous, faunas. Lyell has made similar\nobservations on some of the later tertiary formations. Barrande, also,\nshows that there is a striking general parallelism in the successive\nSilurian deposits of Bohemia and Scandinavia; nevertheless he finds\na surprising amount of difference in the species. If the several\nformations in these regions have not been deposited during the same\nexact periods,--a formation in one region often corresponding with a\nblank interval in the other,--and if in both regions the species\nhave gone on slowly changing during the accumulation of the several\nformations and during the long intervals of time between them; in this\ncase, the several formations in the two regions could be arranged in\nthe same order, in accordance with the general succession of the form\nof life, and the order would falsely appear to be strictly parallel;\nnevertheless the species would not all be the same in the apparently\ncorresponding stages in the two regions.\n\nON THE AFFINITIES OF EXTINCT SPECIES TO EACH OTHER, AND TO LIVING FORMS.\n\nLet us now look to the mutual affinities of extinct and living species.\nThey all fall into one grand natural system; and this fact is at once\nexplained on the principle of descent. The more ancient any form is, the\nmore, as a general rule, it differs from living forms. But, as Buckland\nlong ago remarked, all fossils can be classed either in still existing\ngroups, or between them. That the extinct forms of life help to fill up\nthe wide intervals between existing genera, families, and orders, cannot\nbe disputed. For if we confine our attention either to the living or\nto the extinct alone, the series is far less perfect than if we combine\nboth into one general system. With respect to the Vertebrata, whole\npages could be filled with striking illustrations from our great\npalaeontologist, Owen, showing how extinct animals fall in between\nexisting groups. Cuvier ranked the Ruminants and Pachyderms, as the two\nmost distinct orders of mammals; but Owen has discovered so many fossil\nlinks, that he has had to alter the whole classification of these two\norders; and has placed certain pachyderms in the same sub-order with\nruminants: for example, he dissolves by fine gradations the apparently\nwide difference between the pig and the camel. In regard to the\nInvertebrata, Barrande, and a higher authority could not be named,\nasserts that he is every day taught that palaeozoic animals, though\nbelonging to the same orders, families, or genera with those living at\nthe present day, were not at this early epoch limited in such distinct\ngroups as they now are.\n\nSome writers have objected to any extinct species or group of species\nbeing considered as intermediate between living species or groups. If by\nthis term it is meant that an extinct form is directly intermediate in\nall its characters between two living forms, the objection is probably\nvalid. But I apprehend that in a perfectly natural classification many\nfossil species would have to stand between living species, and some\nextinct genera between living genera, even between genera belonging to\ndistinct families. The most common case, especially with respect to very\ndistinct groups, such as fish and reptiles, seems to be, that supposing\nthem to be distinguished at the present day from each other by a\ndozen characters, the ancient members of the same two groups would be\ndistinguished by a somewhat lesser number of characters, so that the two\ngroups, though formerly quite distinct, at that period made some small\napproach to each other.\n\nIt is a common belief that the more ancient a form is, by so much the\nmore it tends to connect by some of its characters groups now widely\nseparated from each other. This remark no doubt must be restricted\nto those groups which have undergone much change in the course of\ngeological ages; and it would be difficult to prove the truth of\nthe proposition, for every now and then even a living animal, as the\nLepidosiren, is discovered having affinities directed towards very\ndistinct groups. Yet if we compare the older Reptiles and Batrachians,\nthe older Fish, the older Cephalopods, and the eocene Mammals, with the\nmore recent members of the same classes, we must admit that there is\nsome truth in the remark.\n\nLet us see how far these several facts and inferences accord with the\ntheory of descent with modification. As the subject is somewhat complex,\nI must request the reader to turn to the diagram in the fourth chapter.\nWe may suppose that the numbered letters represent genera, and the\ndotted lines diverging from them the species in each genus. The diagram\nis much too simple, too few genera and too few species being given,\nbut this is unimportant for us. The horizontal lines may represent\nsuccessive geological formations, and all the forms beneath the\nuppermost line may be considered as extinct. The three existing genera,\na14, q14, p14, will form a small family; b14 and f14 a closely allied\nfamily or sub-family; and o14, e14, m14, a third family. These three\nfamilies, together with the many extinct genera on the several lines of\ndescent diverging from the parent-form A, will form an order; for all\nwill have inherited something in common from their ancient and common\nprogenitor. On the principle of the continued tendency to divergence\nof character, which was formerly illustrated by this diagram, the more\nrecent any form is, the more it will generally differ from its ancient\nprogenitor. Hence we can understand the rule that the most ancient\nfossils differ most from existing forms. We must not, however, assume\nthat divergence of character is a necessary contingency; it depends\nsolely on the descendants from a species being thus enabled to seize\non many and different places in the economy of nature. Therefore it is\nquite possible, as we have seen in the case of some Silurian forms,\nthat a species might go on being slightly modified in relation to its\nslightly altered conditions of life, and yet retain throughout a vast\nperiod the same general characteristics. This is represented in the\ndiagram by the letter F14.\n\nAll the many forms, extinct and recent, descended from A, make, as\nbefore remarked, one order; and this order, from the continued effects\nof extinction and divergence of character, has become divided into\nseveral sub-families and families, some of which are supposed to have\nperished at different periods, and some to have endured to the present\nday.\n\nBy looking at the diagram we can see that if many of the extinct forms,\nsupposed to be embedded in the successive formations, were discovered\nat several points low down in the series, the three existing families on\nthe uppermost line would be rendered less distinct from each other. If,\nfor instance, the genera a1, a5, a10, f8, m3, m6, m9 were disinterred,\nthese three families would be so closely linked together that they\nprobably would have to be united into one great family, in nearly the\nsame manner as has occurred with ruminants and pachyderms. Yet he who\nobjected to call the extinct genera, which thus linked the living\ngenera of three families together, intermediate in character, would be\njustified, as they are intermediate, not directly, but only by a long\nand circuitous course through many widely different forms. If many\nextinct forms were to be discovered above one of the middle horizontal\nlines or geological formations--for instance, above Number VI.--but\nnone from beneath this line, then only the two families on the left\nhand (namely, a14, etc., and b14, etc.) would have to be united into\none family; and the two other families (namely, a14 to f14 now including\nfive genera, and o14 to m14) would yet remain distinct. These two\nfamilies, however, would be less distinct from each other than they were\nbefore the discovery of the fossils. If, for instance, we suppose the\nexisting genera of the two families to differ from each other by a dozen\ncharacters, in this case the genera, at the early period marked VI.,\nwould differ by a lesser number of characters; for at this early\nstage of descent they have not diverged in character from the common\nprogenitor of the order, nearly so much as they subsequently diverged.\nThus it comes that ancient and extinct genera are often in some slight\ndegree intermediate in character between their modified descendants, or\nbetween their collateral relations.\n\nIn nature the case will be far more complicated than is represented in\nthe diagram; for the groups will have been more numerous, they will\nhave endured for extremely unequal lengths of time, and will have been\nmodified in various degrees. As we possess only the last volume of the\ngeological record, and that in a very broken condition, we have no right\nto expect, except in very rare cases, to fill up wide intervals in the\nnatural system, and thus unite distinct families or orders. All that we\nhave a right to expect, is that those groups, which have within known\ngeological periods undergone much modification, should in the older\nformations make some slight approach to each other; so that the older\nmembers should differ less from each other in some of their characters\nthan do the existing members of the same groups; and this by the\nconcurrent evidence of our best palaeontologists seems frequently to be\nthe case.\n\nThus, on the theory of descent with modification, the main facts with\nrespect to the mutual affinities of the extinct forms of life to each\nother and to living forms, seem to me explained in a satisfactory\nmanner. And they are wholly inexplicable on any other view.\n\nOn this same theory, it is evident that the fauna of any great period\nin the earth's history will be intermediate in general character between\nthat which preceded and that which succeeded it. Thus, the species\nwhich lived at the sixth great stage of descent in the diagram are the\nmodified offspring of those which lived at the fifth stage, and are the\nparents of those which became still more modified at the seventh stage;\nhence they could hardly fail to be nearly intermediate in character\nbetween the forms of life above and below. We must, however, allow for\nthe entire extinction of some preceding forms, and for the coming in of\nquite new forms by immigration, and for a large amount of modification,\nduring the long and blank intervals between the successive formations.\nSubject to these allowances, the fauna of each geological period\nundoubtedly is intermediate in character, between the preceding and\nsucceeding faunas. I need give only one instance, namely, the manner\nin which the fossils of the Devonian system, when this system was first\ndiscovered, were at once recognised by palaeontologists as intermediate\nin character between those of the overlying carboniferous, and\nunderlying Silurian system. But each fauna is not necessarily exactly\nintermediate, as unequal intervals of time have elapsed between\nconsecutive formations.\n\nIt is no real objection to the truth of the statement, that the fauna of\neach period as a whole is nearly intermediate in character between the\npreceding and succeeding faunas, that certain genera offer exceptions\nto the rule. For instance, mastodons and elephants, when arranged by Dr.\nFalconer in two series, first according to their mutual affinities\nand then according to their periods of existence, do not accord in\narrangement. The species extreme in character are not the oldest, or\nthe most recent; nor are those which are intermediate in character,\nintermediate in age. But supposing for an instant, in this and other\nsuch cases, that the record of the first appearance and disappearance\nof the species was perfect, we have no reason to believe that forms\nsuccessively produced necessarily endure for corresponding lengths of\ntime: a very ancient form might occasionally last much longer than\na form elsewhere subsequently produced, especially in the case of\nterrestrial productions inhabiting separated districts. To compare small\nthings with great: if the principal living and extinct races of the\ndomestic pigeon were arranged as well as they could be in serial\naffinity, this arrangement would not closely accord with the order\nin time of their production, and still less with the order of their\ndisappearance; for the parent rock-pigeon now lives; and many varieties\nbetween the rock-pigeon and the carrier have become extinct; and\ncarriers which are extreme in the important character of length of beak\noriginated earlier than short-beaked tumblers, which are at the opposite\nend of the series in this same respect.\n\nClosely connected with the statement, that the organic remains from an\nintermediate formation are in some degree intermediate in character,\nis the fact, insisted on by all palaeontologists, that fossils from two\nconsecutive formations are far more closely related to each other, than\nare the fossils from two remote formations. Pictet gives as a well-known\ninstance, the general resemblance of the organic remains from the\nseveral stages of the chalk formation, though the species are distinct\nin each stage. This fact alone, from its generality, seems to have\nshaken Professor Pictet in his firm belief in the immutability of\nspecies. He who is acquainted with the distribution of existing species\nover the globe, will not attempt to account for the close resemblance of\nthe distinct species in closely consecutive formations, by the physical\nconditions of the ancient areas having remained nearly the same. Let it\nbe remembered that the forms of life, at least those inhabiting the sea,\nhave changed almost simultaneously throughout the world, and therefore\nunder the most different climates and conditions. Consider the\nprodigious vicissitudes of climate during the pleistocene period, which\nincludes the whole glacial period, and note how little the specific\nforms of the inhabitants of the sea have been affected.\n\nOn the theory of descent, the full meaning of the fact of fossil remains\nfrom closely consecutive formations, though ranked as distinct species,\nbeing closely related, is obvious. As the accumulation of each formation\nhas often been interrupted, and as long blank intervals have intervened\nbetween successive formations, we ought not to expect to find, as I\nattempted to show in the last chapter, in any one or two formations all\nthe intermediate varieties between the species which appeared at the\ncommencement and close of these periods; but we ought to find after\nintervals, very long as measured by years, but only moderately long\nas measured geologically, closely allied forms, or, as they have been\ncalled by some authors, representative species; and these we assuredly\ndo find. We find, in short, such evidence of the slow and scarcely\nsensible mutation of specific forms, as we have a just right to expect\nto find.\n\nON THE STATE OF DEVELOPMENT OF ANCIENT FORMS.\n\nThere has been much discussion whether recent forms are more highly\ndeveloped than ancient. I will not here enter on this subject, for\nnaturalists have not as yet defined to each other's satisfaction what is\nmeant by high and low forms. But in one particular sense the more recent\nforms must, on my theory, be higher than the more ancient; for each new\nspecies is formed by having had some advantage in the struggle for life\nover other and preceding forms. If under a nearly similar climate, the\neocene inhabitants of one quarter of the world were put into competition\nwith the existing inhabitants of the same or some other quarter, the\neocene fauna or flora would certainly be beaten and exterminated;\nas would a secondary fauna by an eocene, and a palaeozoic fauna by a\nsecondary fauna. I do not doubt that this process of improvement has\naffected in a marked and sensible manner the organisation of the more\nrecent and victorious forms of life, in comparison with the ancient and\nbeaten forms; but I can see no way of testing this sort of progress.\nCrustaceans, for instance, not the highest in their own class, may have\nbeaten the highest molluscs. From the extraordinary manner in which\nEuropean productions have recently spread over New Zealand, and have\nseized on places which must have been previously occupied, we may\nbelieve, if all the animals and plants of Great Britain were set free\nin New Zealand, that in the course of time a multitude of British forms\nwould become thoroughly naturalized there, and would exterminate many\nof the natives. On the other hand, from what we see now occurring in New\nZealand, and from hardly a single inhabitant of the southern hemisphere\nhaving become wild in any part of Europe, we may doubt, if all the\nproductions of New Zealand were set free in Great Britain, whether any\nconsiderable number would be enabled to seize on places now occupied by\nour native plants and animals. Under this point of view, the productions\nof Great Britain may be said to be higher than those of New Zealand. Yet\nthe most skilful naturalist from an examination of the species of the\ntwo countries could not have foreseen this result.\n\nAgassiz insists that ancient animals resemble to a certain extent the\nembryos of recent animals of the same classes; or that the geological\nsuccession of extinct forms is in some degree parallel to the\nembryological development of recent forms. I must follow Pictet and\nHuxley in thinking that the truth of this doctrine is very far from\nproved. Yet I fully expect to see it hereafter confirmed, at least in\nregard to subordinate groups, which have branched off from each other\nwithin comparatively recent times. For this doctrine of Agassiz accords\nwell with the theory of natural selection. In a future chapter I\nshall attempt to show that the adult differs from its embryo, owing\nto variations supervening at a not early age, and being inherited at\na corresponding age. This process, whilst it leaves the embryo almost\nunaltered, continually adds, in the course of successive generations,\nmore and more difference to the adult.\n\nThus the embryo comes to be left as a sort of picture, preserved by\nnature, of the ancient and less modified condition of each animal. This\nview may be true, and yet it may never be capable of full proof. Seeing,\nfor instance, that the oldest known mammals, reptiles, and fish strictly\nbelong to their own proper classes, though some of these old forms are\nin a slight degree less distinct from each other than are the typical\nmembers of the same groups at the present day, it would be vain to look\nfor animals having the common embryological character of the Vertebrata,\nuntil beds far beneath the lowest Silurian strata are discovered--a\ndiscovery of which the chance is very small.\n\nON THE SUCCESSION OF THE SAME TYPES WITHIN THE SAME AREAS, DURING THE\nLATER TERTIARY PERIODS.\n\nMr. Clift many years ago showed that the fossil mammals from the\nAustralian caves were closely allied to the living marsupials of that\ncontinent. In South America, a similar relationship is manifest, even\nto an uneducated eye, in the gigantic pieces of armour like those of the\narmadillo, found in several parts of La Plata; and Professor Owen has\nshown in the most striking manner that most of the fossil mammals,\nburied there in such numbers, are related to South American types. This\nrelationship is even more clearly seen in the wonderful collection of\nfossil bones made by MM. Lund and Clausen in the caves of Brazil. I was\nso much impressed with these facts that I strongly insisted, in 1839\nand 1845, on this \"law of the succession of types,\"--on \"this wonderful\nrelationship in the same continent between the dead and the living.\"\nProfessor Owen has subsequently extended the same generalisation to\nthe mammals of the Old World. We see the same law in this author's\nrestorations of the extinct and gigantic birds of New Zealand. We see\nit also in the birds of the caves of Brazil. Mr. Woodward has shown that\nthe same law holds good with sea-shells, but from the wide distribution\nof most genera of molluscs, it is not well displayed by them. Other\ncases could be added, as the relation between the extinct and\nliving land-shells of Madeira; and between the extinct and living\nbrackish-water shells of the Aralo-Caspian Sea.\n\nNow what does this remarkable law of the succession of the same types\nwithin the same areas mean? He would be a bold man, who after comparing\nthe present climate of Australia and of parts of South America under the\nsame latitude, would attempt to account, on the one hand, by dissimilar\nphysical conditions for the dissimilarity of the inhabitants of these\ntwo continents, and, on the other hand, by similarity of conditions,\nfor the uniformity of the same types in each during the later tertiary\nperiods. Nor can it be pretended that it is an immutable law that\nmarsupials should have been chiefly or solely produced in Australia; or\nthat Edentata and other American types should have been solely produced\nin South America. For we know that Europe in ancient times was peopled\nby numerous marsupials; and I have shown in the publications above\nalluded to, that in America the law of distribution of terrestrial\nmammals was formerly different from what it now is. North America\nformerly partook strongly of the present character of the southern\nhalf of the continent; and the southern half was formerly more closely\nallied, than it is at present, to the northern half. In a similar manner\nwe know from Falconer and Cautley's discoveries, that northern India was\nformerly more closely related in its mammals to Africa than it is at\nthe present time. Analogous facts could be given in relation to the\ndistribution of marine animals.\n\nOn the theory of descent with modification, the great law of the long\nenduring, but not immutable, succession of the same types within the\nsame areas, is at once explained; for the inhabitants of each quarter of\nthe world will obviously tend to leave in that quarter, during the next\nsucceeding period of time, closely allied though in some degree modified\ndescendants. If the inhabitants of one continent formerly differed\ngreatly from those of another continent, so will their modified\ndescendants still differ in nearly the same manner and degree. But\nafter very long intervals of time and after great geographical changes,\npermitting much inter-migration, the feebler will yield to the more\ndominant forms, and there will be nothing immutable in the laws of past\nand present distribution.\n\nIt may be asked in ridicule, whether I suppose that the megatherium and\nother allied huge monsters have left behind them in South America the\nsloth, armadillo, and anteater, as their degenerate descendants. This\ncannot for an instant be admitted. These huge animals have become wholly\nextinct, and have left no progeny. But in the caves of Brazil, there\nare many extinct species which are closely allied in size and in other\ncharacters to the species still living in South America; and some of\nthese fossils may be the actual progenitors of living species. It must\nnot be forgotten that, on my theory, all the species of the same genus\nhave descended from some one species; so that if six genera, each having\neight species, be found in one geological formation, and in the next\nsucceeding formation there be six other allied or representative genera\nwith the same number of species, then we may conclude that only one\nspecies of each of the six older genera has left modified descendants,\nconstituting the six new genera. The other seven species of the old\ngenera have all died out and have left no progeny. Or, which would\nprobably be a far commoner case, two or three species of two or three\nalone of the six older genera will have been the parents of the six new\ngenera; the other old species and the other whole genera having\nbecome utterly extinct. In failing orders, with the genera and species\ndecreasing in numbers, as apparently is the case of the Edentata of\nSouth America, still fewer genera and species will have left modified\nblood-descendants.\n\nSUMMARY OF THE PRECEDING AND PRESENT CHAPTERS.\n\nI have attempted to show that the geological record is extremely\nimperfect; that only a small portion of the globe has been geologically\nexplored with care; that only certain classes of organic beings have\nbeen largely preserved in a fossil state; that the number both of\nspecimens and of species, preserved in our museums, is absolutely as\nnothing compared with the incalculable number of generations which\nmust have passed away even during a single formation; that, owing\nto subsidence being necessary for the accumulation of fossiliferous\ndeposits thick enough to resist future degradation, enormous intervals\nof time have elapsed between the successive formations; that there has\nprobably been more extinction during the periods of subsidence, and more\nvariation during the periods of elevation, and during the latter the\nrecord will have been least perfectly kept; that each single formation\nhas not been continuously deposited; that the duration of each formation\nis, perhaps, short compared with the average duration of specific forms;\nthat migration has played an important part in the first appearance of\nnew forms in any one area and formation; that widely ranging species\nare those which have varied most, and have oftenest given rise to new\nspecies; and that varieties have at first often been local. All these\ncauses taken conjointly, must have tended to make the geological record\nextremely imperfect, and will to a large extent explain why we do not\nfind interminable varieties, connecting together all the extinct and\nexisting forms of life by the finest graduated steps.\n\nHe who rejects these views on the nature of the geological record, will\nrightly reject my whole theory. For he may ask in vain where are the\nnumberless transitional links which must formerly have connected the\nclosely allied or representative species, found in the several stages of\nthe same great formation. He may disbelieve in the enormous intervals\nof time which have elapsed between our consecutive formations; he may\noverlook how important a part migration must have played, when the\nformations of any one great region alone, as that of Europe, are\nconsidered; he may urge the apparent, but often falsely apparent, sudden\ncoming in of whole groups of species. He may ask where are the remains\nof those infinitely numerous organisms which must have existed long\nbefore the first bed of the Silurian system was deposited: I can answer\nthis latter question only hypothetically, by saying that as far as we\ncan see, where our oceans now extend they have for an enormous period\nextended, and where our oscillating continents now stand they have stood\never since the Silurian epoch; but that long before that period, the\nworld may have presented a wholly different aspect; and that the older\ncontinents, formed of formations older than any known to us, may now all\nbe in a metamorphosed condition, or may lie buried under the ocean.\n\nPassing from these difficulties, all the other great leading facts in\npalaeontology seem to me simply to follow on the theory of descent with\nmodification through natural selection. We can thus understand how it\nis that new species come in slowly and successively; how species of\ndifferent classes do not necessarily change together, or at the same\nrate, or in the same degree; yet in the long run that all undergo\nmodification to some extent. The extinction of old forms is the almost\ninevitable consequence of the production of new forms. We can understand\nwhy when a species has once disappeared it never reappears. Groups of\nspecies increase in numbers slowly, and endure for unequal periods of\ntime; for the process of modification is necessarily slow, and depends\non many complex contingencies. The dominant species of the larger\ndominant groups tend to leave many modified descendants, and thus new\nsub-groups and groups are formed. As these are formed, the species of\nthe less vigorous groups, from their inferiority inherited from a common\nprogenitor, tend to become extinct together, and to leave no modified\noffspring on the face of the earth. But the utter extinction of a whole\ngroup of species may often be a very slow process, from the survival of\na few descendants, lingering in protected and isolated situations. When\na group has once wholly disappeared, it does not reappear; for the link\nof generation has been broken.\n\nWe can understand how the spreading of the dominant forms of life, which\nare those that oftenest vary, will in the long run tend to people the\nworld with allied, but modified, descendants; and these will generally\nsucceed in taking the places of those groups of species which are their\ninferiors in the struggle for existence. Hence, after long intervals\nof time, the productions of the world will appear to have changed\nsimultaneously.\n\nWe can understand how it is that all the forms of life, ancient and\nrecent, make together one grand system; for all are connected by\ngeneration. We can understand, from the continued tendency to divergence\nof character, why the more ancient a form is, the more it generally\ndiffers from those now living. Why ancient and extinct forms often tend\nto fill up gaps between existing forms, sometimes blending two groups\npreviously classed as distinct into one; but more commonly only bringing\nthem a little closer together. The more ancient a form is, the more\noften, apparently, it displays characters in some degree intermediate\nbetween groups now distinct; for the more ancient a form is, the more\nnearly it will be related to, and consequently resemble, the common\nprogenitor of groups, since become widely divergent. Extinct forms\nare seldom directly intermediate between existing forms; but are\nintermediate only by a long and circuitous course through many extinct\nand very different forms. We can clearly see why the organic remains of\nclosely consecutive formations are more closely allied to each other,\nthan are those of remote formations; for the forms are more closely\nlinked together by generation: we can clearly see why the remains of an\nintermediate formation are intermediate in character.\n\nThe inhabitants of each successive period in the world's history have\nbeaten their predecessors in the race for life, and are, in so far,\nhigher in the scale of nature; and this may account for that vague yet\nill-defined sentiment, felt by many palaeontologists, that organisation\non the whole has progressed. If it should hereafter be proved that\nancient animals resemble to a certain extent the embryos of more recent\nanimals of the same class, the fact will be intelligible. The succession\nof the same types of structure within the same areas during the later\ngeological periods ceases to be mysterious, and is simply explained by\ninheritance.\n\nIf then the geological record be as imperfect as I believe it to be, and\nit may at least be asserted that the record cannot be proved to be much\nmore perfect, the main objections to the theory of natural selection are\ngreatly diminished or disappear. On the other hand, all the chief laws\nof palaeontology plainly proclaim, as it seems to me, that species have\nbeen produced by ordinary generation: old forms having been supplanted\nby new and improved forms of life, produced by the laws of variation\nstill acting round us, and preserved by Natural Selection.\n\n\n\n\n11. GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION.\n\nPresent distribution cannot be accounted for by differences in physical\nconditions. Importance of barriers. Affinity of the productions of the\nsame continent. Centres of creation. Means of dispersal, by changes of\nclimate and of the level of the land, and by occasional means. Dispersal\nduring the Glacial period co-extensive with the world.\n\nIn considering the distribution of organic beings over the face of\nthe globe, the first great fact which strikes us is, that neither the\nsimilarity nor the dissimilarity of the inhabitants of various regions\ncan be accounted for by their climatal and other physical conditions. Of\nlate, almost every author who has studied the subject has come to this\nconclusion. The case of America alone would almost suffice to prove its\ntruth: for if we exclude the northern parts where the circumpolar land\nis almost continuous, all authors agree that one of the most fundamental\ndivisions in geographical distribution is that between the New and Old\nWorlds; yet if we travel over the vast American continent, from the\ncentral parts of the United States to its extreme southern point, we\nmeet with the most diversified conditions; the most humid districts,\narid deserts, lofty mountains, grassy plains, forests, marshes, lakes,\nand great rivers, under almost every temperature. There is hardly a\nclimate or condition in the Old World which cannot be paralleled in the\nNew--at least as closely as the same species generally require; for it\nis a most rare case to find a group of organisms confined to any small\nspot, having conditions peculiar in only a slight degree; for instance,\nsmall areas in the Old World could be pointed out hotter than any in\nthe New World, yet these are not inhabited by a peculiar fauna or flora.\nNotwithstanding this parallelism in the conditions of the Old and New\nWorlds, how widely different are their living productions!\n\nIn the southern hemisphere, if we compare large tracts of land in\nAustralia, South Africa, and western South America, between latitudes\n25 deg and 35 deg, we shall find parts extremely similar in all their\nconditions, yet it would not be possible to point out three faunas and\nfloras more utterly dissimilar. Or again we may compare the productions\nof South America south of lat. 35 deg with those north of 25 deg, which\nconsequently inhabit a considerably different climate, and they will be\nfound incomparably more closely related to each other, than they are to\nthe productions of Australia or Africa under nearly the same climate.\nAnalogous facts could be given with respect to the inhabitants of the\nsea.\n\nA second great fact which strikes us in our general review is, that\nbarriers of any kind, or obstacles to free migration, are related in a\nclose and important manner to the differences between the productions of\nvarious regions. We see this in the great difference of nearly all the\nterrestrial productions of the New and Old Worlds, excepting in the\nnorthern parts, where the land almost joins, and where, under a slightly\ndifferent climate, there might have been free migration for the northern\ntemperate forms, as there now is for the strictly arctic productions.\nWe see the same fact in the great difference between the inhabitants of\nAustralia, Africa, and South America under the same latitude: for these\ncountries are almost as much isolated from each other as is possible. On\neach continent, also, we see the same fact; for on the opposite sides\nof lofty and continuous mountain-ranges, and of great deserts, and\nsometimes even of large rivers, we find different productions; though as\nmountain chains, deserts, etc., are not as impassable, or likely to have\nendured so long as the oceans separating continents, the differences are\nvery inferior in degree to those characteristic of distinct continents.\n\nTurning to the sea, we find the same law. No two marine faunas are more\ndistinct, with hardly a fish, shell, or crab in common, than those of\nthe eastern and western shores of South and Central America; yet these\ngreat faunas are separated only by the narrow, but impassable, isthmus\nof Panama. Westward of the shores of America, a wide space of open ocean\nextends, with not an island as a halting-place for emigrants; here we\nhave a barrier of another kind, and as soon as this is passed we meet\nin the eastern islands of the Pacific, with another and totally\ndistinct fauna. So that here three marine faunas range far northward\nand southward, in parallel lines not far from each other, under\ncorresponding climates; but from being separated from each other\nby impassable barriers, either of land or open sea, they are wholly\ndistinct. On the other hand, proceeding still further westward from the\neastern islands of the tropical parts of the Pacific, we encounter no\nimpassable barriers, and we have innumerable islands as halting-places,\nuntil after travelling over a hemisphere we come to the shores of\nAfrica; and over this vast space we meet with no well-defined and\ndistinct marine faunas. Although hardly one shell, crab or fish is\ncommon to the above-named three approximate faunas of Eastern and\nWestern America and the eastern Pacific islands, yet many fish range\nfrom the Pacific into the Indian Ocean, and many shells are common to\nthe eastern islands of the Pacific and the eastern shores of Africa, on\nalmost exactly opposite meridians of longitude.\n\nA third great fact, partly included in the foregoing statements, is the\naffinity of the productions of the same continent or sea, though the\nspecies themselves are distinct at different points and stations. It is\na law of the widest generality, and every continent offers innumerable\ninstances. Nevertheless the naturalist in travelling, for instance,\nfrom north to south never fails to be struck by the manner in which\nsuccessive groups of beings, specifically distinct, yet clearly related,\nreplace each other. He hears from closely allied, yet distinct kinds of\nbirds, notes nearly similar, and sees their nests similarly constructed,\nbut not quite alike, with eggs coloured in nearly the same manner. The\nplains near the Straits of Magellan are inhabited by one species of\nRhea (American ostrich), and northward the plains of La Plata by another\nspecies of the same genus; and not by a true ostrich or emeu, like those\nfound in Africa and Australia under the same latitude. On these same\nplains of La Plata, we see the agouti and bizcacha, animals having\nnearly the same habits as our hares and rabbits and belonging to the\nsame order of Rodents, but they plainly display an American type of\nstructure. We ascend the lofty peaks of the Cordillera and we find an\nalpine species of bizcacha; we look to the waters, and we do not find\nthe beaver or musk-rat, but the coypu and capybara, rodents of the\nAmerican type. Innumerable other instances could be given. If we look\nto the islands off the American shore, however much they may differ in\ngeological structure, the inhabitants, though they may be all peculiar\nspecies, are essentially American. We may look back to past ages, as\nshown in the last chapter, and we find American types then prevalent on\nthe American continent and in the American seas. We see in these facts\nsome deep organic bond, prevailing throughout space and time, over\nthe same areas of land and water, and independent of their physical\nconditions. The naturalist must feel little curiosity, who is not led to\ninquire what this bond is.\n\nThis bond, on my theory, is simply inheritance, that cause which alone,\nas far as we positively know, produces organisms quite like, or, as we\nsee in the case of varieties nearly like each other. The dissimilarity\nof the inhabitants of different regions may be attributed to\nmodification through natural selection, and in a quite subordinate\ndegree to the direct influence of different physical conditions.\nThe degree of dissimilarity will depend on the migration of the more\ndominant forms of life from one region into another having been effected\nwith more or less ease, at periods more or less remote;--on the nature\nand number of the former immigrants;--and on their action and reaction,\nin their mutual struggles for life;--the relation of organism to\norganism being, as I have already often remarked, the most important of\nall relations. Thus the high importance of barriers comes into play by\nchecking migration; as does time for the slow process of modification\nthrough natural selection. Widely-ranging species, abounding in\nindividuals, which have already triumphed over many competitors in their\nown widely-extended homes will have the best chance of seizing on new\nplaces, when they spread into new countries. In their new homes they\nwill be exposed to new conditions, and will frequently undergo further\nmodification and improvement; and thus they will become still further\nvictorious, and will produce groups of modified descendants. On this\nprinciple of inheritance with modification, we can understand how it is\nthat sections of genera, whole genera, and even families are confined to\nthe same areas, as is so commonly and notoriously the case.\n\nI believe, as was remarked in the last chapter, in no law of necessary\ndevelopment. As the variability of each species is an independent\nproperty, and will be taken advantage of by natural selection, only so\nfar as it profits the individual in its complex struggle for life,\nso the degree of modification in different species will be no uniform\nquantity. If, for instance, a number of species, which stand in direct\ncompetition with each other, migrate in a body into a new and afterwards\nisolated country, they will be little liable to modification; for\nneither migration nor isolation in themselves can do anything. These\nprinciples come into play only by bringing organisms into new relations\nwith each other, and in a lesser degree with the surrounding physical\nconditions. As we have seen in the last chapter that some forms have\nretained nearly the same character from an enormously remote geological\nperiod, so certain species have migrated over vast spaces, and have not\nbecome greatly modified.\n\nOn these views, it is obvious, that the several species of the same\ngenus, though inhabiting the most distant quarters of the world, must\noriginally have proceeded from the same source, as they have descended\nfrom the same progenitor. In the case of those species, which have\nundergone during whole geological periods but little modification, there\nis not much difficulty in believing that they may have migrated from the\nsame region; for during the vast geographical and climatal changes which\nwill have supervened since ancient times, almost any amount of migration\nis possible. But in many other cases, in which we have reason to believe\nthat the species of a genus have been produced within comparatively\nrecent times, there is great difficulty on this head. It is also obvious\nthat the individuals of the same species, though now inhabiting distant\nand isolated regions, must have proceeded from one spot, where their\nparents were first produced: for, as explained in the last chapter, it\nis incredible that individuals identically the same should ever have\nbeen produced through natural selection from parents specifically\ndistinct.\n\nWe are thus brought to the question which has been largely discussed by\nnaturalists, namely, whether species have been created at one or more\npoints of the earth's surface. Undoubtedly there are very many cases of\nextreme difficulty, in understanding how the same species could possibly\nhave migrated from some one point to the several distant and isolated\npoints, where now found. Nevertheless the simplicity of the view that\neach species was first produced within a single region captivates the\nmind. He who rejects it, rejects the vera causa of ordinary generation\nwith subsequent migration, and calls in the agency of a miracle. It is\nuniversally admitted, that in most cases the area inhabited by a species\nis continuous; and when a plant or animal inhabits two points so distant\nfrom each other, or with an interval of such a nature, that the space\ncould not be easily passed over by migration, the fact is given as\nsomething remarkable and exceptional. The capacity of migrating across\nthe sea is more distinctly limited in terrestrial mammals, than perhaps\nin any other organic beings; and, accordingly, we find no inexplicable\ncases of the same mammal inhabiting distant points of the world. No\ngeologist will feel any difficulty in such cases as Great Britain having\nbeen formerly united to Europe, and consequently possessing the same\nquadrupeds. But if the same species can be produced at two separate\npoints, why do we not find a single mammal common to Europe and\nAustralia or South America? The conditions of life are nearly the\nsame, so that a multitude of European animals and plants have become\nnaturalised in America and Australia; and some of the aboriginal plants\nare identically the same at these distant points of the northern and\nsouthern hemispheres? The answer, as I believe, is, that mammals have\nnot been able to migrate, whereas some plants, from their varied means\nof dispersal, have migrated across the vast and broken interspace. The\ngreat and striking influence which barriers of every kind have had on\ndistribution, is intelligible only on the view that the great majority\nof species have been produced on one side alone, and have not been able\nto migrate to the other side. Some few families, many sub-families,\nvery many genera, and a still greater number of sections of genera\nare confined to a single region; and it has been observed by several\nnaturalists, that the most natural genera, or those genera in which the\nspecies are most closely related to each other, are generally local,\nor confined to one area. What a strange anomaly it would be, if, when\ncoming one step lower in the series, to the individuals of the same\nspecies, a directly opposite rule prevailed; and species were not local,\nbut had been produced in two or more distinct areas!\n\nHence it seems to me, as it has to many other naturalists, that the\nview of each species having been produced in one area alone, and having\nsubsequently migrated from that area as far as its powers of migration\nand subsistence under past and present conditions permitted, is the most\nprobable. Undoubtedly many cases occur, in which we cannot explain how\nthe same species could have passed from one point to the other. But the\ngeographical and climatal changes, which have certainly occurred within\nrecent geological times, must have interrupted or rendered discontinuous\nthe formerly continuous range of many species. So that we are reduced to\nconsider whether the exceptions to continuity of range are so numerous\nand of so grave a nature, that we ought to give up the belief, rendered\nprobable by general considerations, that each species has been produced\nwithin one area, and has migrated thence as far as it could. It would\nbe hopelessly tedious to discuss all the exceptional cases of the same\nspecies, now living at distant and separated points; nor do I for a\nmoment pretend that any explanation could be offered of many such cases.\nBut after some preliminary remarks, I will discuss a few of the most\nstriking classes of facts; namely, the existence of the same species\non the summits of distant mountain-ranges, and at distant points in the\narctic and antarctic regions; and secondly (in the following chapter),\nthe wide distribution of freshwater productions; and thirdly, the\noccurrence of the same terrestrial species on islands and on the\nmainland, though separated by hundreds of miles of open sea. If the\nexistence of the same species at distant and isolated points of the\nearth's surface, can in many instances be explained on the view of each\nspecies having migrated from a single birthplace; then, considering our\nignorance with respect to former climatal and geographical changes and\nvarious occasional means of transport, the belief that this has been the\nuniversal law, seems to me incomparably the safest.\n\nIn discussing this subject, we shall be enabled at the same time to\nconsider a point equally important for us, namely, whether the several\ndistinct species of a genus, which on my theory have all descended from\na common progenitor, can have migrated (undergoing modification\nduring some part of their migration) from the area inhabited by their\nprogenitor. If it can be shown to be almost invariably the case, that\na region, of which most of its inhabitants are closely related to,\nor belong to the same genera with the species of a second region, has\nprobably received at some former period immigrants from this other\nregion, my theory will be strengthened; for we can clearly understand,\non the principle of modification, why the inhabitants of a region should\nbe related to those of another region, whence it has been stocked. A\nvolcanic island, for instance, upheaved and formed at the distance of a\nfew hundreds of miles from a continent, would probably receive from it\nin the course of time a few colonists, and their descendants, though\nmodified, would still be plainly related by inheritance to the\ninhabitants of the continent. Cases of this nature are common, and are,\nas we shall hereafter more fully see, inexplicable on the theory of\nindependent creation. This view of the relation of species in one region\nto those in another, does not differ much (by substituting the word\nvariety for species) from that lately advanced in an ingenious paper by\nMr. Wallace, in which he concludes, that \"every species has come into\nexistence coincident both in space and time with a pre-existing\nclosely allied species.\" And I now know from correspondence, that this\ncoincidence he attributes to generation with modification.\n\nThe previous remarks on \"single and multiple centres of creation\" do\nnot directly bear on another allied question,--namely whether all the\nindividuals of the same species have descended from a single pair, or\nsingle hermaphrodite, or whether, as some authors suppose, from many\nindividuals simultaneously created. With those organic beings which\nnever intercross (if such exist), the species, on my theory, must have\ndescended from a succession of improved varieties, which will never have\nblended with other individuals or varieties, but will have supplanted\neach other; so that, at each successive stage of modification and\nimprovement, all the individuals of each variety will have descended\nfrom a single parent. But in the majority of cases, namely, with\nall organisms which habitually unite for each birth, or which often\nintercross, I believe that during the slow process of modification\nthe individuals of the species will have been kept nearly uniform by\nintercrossing; so that many individuals will have gone on simultaneously\nchanging, and the whole amount of modification will not have been due,\nat each stage, to descent from a single parent. To illustrate what I\nmean: our English racehorses differ slightly from the horses of every\nother breed; but they do not owe their difference and superiority to\ndescent from any single pair, but to continued care in selecting and\ntraining many individuals during many generations.\n\nBefore discussing the three classes of facts, which I have selected as\npresenting the greatest amount of difficulty on the theory of \"single\ncentres of creation,\" I must say a few words on the means of dispersal.\n\nMEANS OF DISPERSAL.\n\nSir C. Lyell and other authors have ably treated this subject. I can\ngive here only the briefest abstract of the more important facts. Change\nof climate must have had a powerful influence on migration: a region\nwhen its climate was different may have been a high road for migration,\nbut now be impassable; I shall, however, presently have to discuss this\nbranch of the subject in some detail. Changes of level in the land must\nalso have been highly influential: a narrow isthmus now separates two\nmarine faunas; submerge it, or let it formerly have been submerged, and\nthe two faunas will now blend or may formerly have blended: where the\nsea now extends, land may at a former period have connected islands or\npossibly even continents together, and thus have allowed terrestrial\nproductions to pass from one to the other. No geologist will dispute\nthat great mutations of level have occurred within the period of\nexisting organisms. Edward Forbes insisted that all the islands in the\nAtlantic must recently have been connected with Europe or Africa, and\nEurope likewise with America. Other authors have thus hypothetically\nbridged over every ocean, and have united almost every island to some\nmainland. If indeed the arguments used by Forbes are to be trusted,\nit must be admitted that scarcely a single island exists which has not\nrecently been united to some continent. This view cuts the Gordian knot\nof the dispersal of the same species to the most distant points, and\nremoves many a difficulty: but to the best of my judgment we are not\nauthorized in admitting such enormous geographical changes within\nthe period of existing species. It seems to me that we have abundant\nevidence of great oscillations of level in our continents; but not of\nsuch vast changes in their position and extension, as to have united\nthem within the recent period to each other and to the several\nintervening oceanic islands. I freely admit the former existence of many\nislands, now buried beneath the sea, which may have served as halting\nplaces for plants and for many animals during their migration. In the\ncoral-producing oceans such sunken islands are now marked, as I believe,\nby rings of coral or atolls standing over them. Whenever it is fully\nadmitted, as I believe it will some day be, that each species has\nproceeded from a single birthplace, and when in the course of time we\nknow something definite about the means of distribution, we shall be\nenabled to speculate with security on the former extension of the land.\nBut I do not believe that it will ever be proved that within the recent\nperiod continents which are now quite separate, have been continuously,\nor almost continuously, united with each other, and with the many\nexisting oceanic islands. Several facts in distribution,--such as the\ngreat difference in the marine faunas on the opposite sides of almost\nevery continent,--the close relation of the tertiary inhabitants of\nseveral lands and even seas to their present inhabitants,--a certain\ndegree of relation (as we shall hereafter see) between the distribution\nof mammals and the depth of the sea,--these and other such facts seem to\nme opposed to the admission of such prodigious geographical revolutions\nwithin the recent period, as are necessitated on the view advanced\nby Forbes and admitted by his many followers. The nature and relative\nproportions of the inhabitants of oceanic islands likewise seem to me\nopposed to the belief of their former continuity with continents. Nor\ndoes their almost universally volcanic composition favour the admission\nthat they are the wrecks of sunken continents;--if they had originally\nexisted as mountain-ranges on the land, some at least of the islands\nwould have been formed, like other mountain-summits, of granite,\nmetamorphic schists, old fossiliferous or other such rocks, instead of\nconsisting of mere piles of volcanic matter.\n\nI must now say a few words on what are called accidental means, but\nwhich more properly might be called occasional means of distribution.\nI shall here confine myself to plants. In botanical works, this or\nthat plant is stated to be ill adapted for wide dissemination; but for\ntransport across the sea, the greater or less facilities may be said to\nbe almost wholly unknown. Until I tried, with Mr. Berkeley's aid, a\nfew experiments, it was not even known how far seeds could resist the\ninjurious action of sea-water. To my surprise I found that out of 87\nkinds, 64 germinated after an immersion of 28 days, and a few survived\nan immersion of 137 days. For convenience sake I chiefly tried small\nseeds, without the capsule or fruit; and as all of these sank in a few\ndays, they could not be floated across wide spaces of the sea, whether\nor not they were injured by the salt-water. Afterwards I tried some\nlarger fruits, capsules, etc., and some of these floated for a long\ntime. It is well known what a difference there is in the buoyancy of\ngreen and seasoned timber; and it occurred to me that floods might wash\ndown plants or branches, and that these might be dried on the banks, and\nthen by a fresh rise in the stream be washed into the sea. Hence I was\nled to dry stems and branches of 94 plants with ripe fruit, and to place\nthem on sea water. The majority sank quickly, but some which whilst\ngreen floated for a very short time, when dried floated much longer; for\ninstance, ripe hazel-nuts sank immediately, but when dried, they floated\nfor 90 days and afterwards when planted they germinated; an asparagus\nplant with ripe berries floated for 23 days, when dried it floated\nfor 85 days, and the seeds afterwards germinated: the ripe seeds of\nHelosciadium sank in two days, when dried they floated for above 90\ndays, and afterwards germinated. Altogether out of the 94 dried plants,\n18 floated for above 28 days, and some of the 18 floated for a very much\nlonger period. So that as 64/87 seeds germinated after an immersion\nof 28 days; and as 18/94 plants with ripe fruit (but not all the same\nspecies as in the foregoing experiment) floated, after being dried, for\nabove 28 days, as far as we may infer anything from these scanty facts,\nwe may conclude that the seeds of 14/100 plants of any country might be\nfloated by sea-currents during 28 days, and would retain their power\nof germination. In Johnston's Physical Atlas, the average rate of the\nseveral Atlantic currents is 33 miles per diem (some currents running\nat the rate of 60 miles per diem); on this average, the seeds of 14/100\nplants belonging to one country might be floated across 924 miles of sea\nto another country; and when stranded, if blown to a favourable spot by\nan inland gale, they would germinate.\n\nSubsequently to my experiments, M. Martens tried similar ones, but in a\nmuch better manner, for he placed the seeds in a box in the actual sea,\nso that they were alternately wet and exposed to the air like really\nfloating plants. He tried 98 seeds, mostly different from mine; but he\nchose many large fruits and likewise seeds from plants which live\nnear the sea; and this would have favoured the average length of\ntheir flotation and of their resistance to the injurious action of the\nsalt-water. On the other hand he did not previously dry the plants or\nbranches with the fruit; and this, as we have seen, would have caused\nsome of them to have floated much longer. The result was that 18/98 of\nhis seeds floated for 42 days, and were then capable of germination. But\nI do not doubt that plants exposed to the waves would float for a less\ntime than those protected from violent movement as in our experiments.\nTherefore it would perhaps be safer to assume that the seeds of about\n10/100 plants of a flora, after having been dried, could be floated\nacross a space of sea 900 miles in width, and would then germinate.\nThe fact of the larger fruits often floating longer than the small,\nis interesting; as plants with large seeds or fruit could hardly be\ntransported by any other means; and Alph. de Candolle has shown that\nsuch plants generally have restricted ranges.\n\nBut seeds may be occasionally transported in another manner. Drift\ntimber is thrown up on most islands, even on those in the midst of the\nwidest oceans; and the natives of the coral-islands in the Pacific,\nprocure stones for their tools, solely from the roots of drifted trees,\nthese stones being a valuable royal tax. I find on examination, that\nwhen irregularly shaped stones are embedded in the roots of trees, small\nparcels of earth are very frequently enclosed in their interstices and\nbehind them,--so perfectly that not a particle could be washed away in\nthe longest transport: out of one small portion of earth thus COMPLETELY\nenclosed by wood in an oak about 50 years old, three dicotyledonous\nplants germinated: I am certain of the accuracy of this observation.\nAgain, I can show that the carcasses of birds, when floating on the sea,\nsometimes escape being immediately devoured; and seeds of many kinds\nin the crops of floating birds long retain their vitality: peas and\nvetches, for instance, are killed by even a few days' immersion in\nsea-water; but some taken out of the crop of a pigeon, which had\nfloated on artificial salt-water for 30 days, to my surprise nearly all\ngerminated.\n\nLiving birds can hardly fail to be highly effective agents in the\ntransportation of seeds. I could give many facts showing how frequently\nbirds of many kinds are blown by gales to vast distances across the\nocean. We may I think safely assume that under such circumstances their\nrate of flight would often be 35 miles an hour; and some authors have\ngiven a far higher estimate. I have never seen an instance of nutritious\nseeds passing through the intestines of a bird; but hard seeds of fruit\nwill pass uninjured through even the digestive organs of a turkey. In\nthe course of two months, I picked up in my garden 12 kinds of seeds,\nout of the excrement of small birds, and these seemed perfect, and\nsome of them, which I tried, germinated. But the following fact is more\nimportant: the crops of birds do not secrete gastric juice, and do not\nin the least injure, as I know by trial, the germination of seeds;\nnow after a bird has found and devoured a large supply of food, it is\npositively asserted that all the grains do not pass into the gizzard for\n12 or even 18 hours. A bird in this interval might easily be blown to\nthe distance of 500 miles, and hawks are known to look out for tired\nbirds, and the contents of their torn crops might thus readily get\nscattered. Mr. Brent informs me that a friend of his had to give up\nflying carrier-pigeons from France to England, as the hawks on the\nEnglish coast destroyed so many on their arrival. Some hawks and owls\nbolt their prey whole, and after an interval of from twelve to twenty\nhours, disgorge pellets, which, as I know from experiments made in the\nZoological Gardens, include seeds capable of germination. Some seeds of\nthe oat, wheat, millet, canary, hemp, clover, and beet germinated after\nhaving been from twelve to twenty-one hours in the stomachs of different\nbirds of prey; and two seeds of beet grew after having been thus\nretained for two days and fourteen hours. Freshwater fish, I find, eat\nseeds of many land and water plants: fish are frequently devoured by\nbirds, and thus the seeds might be transported from place to place. I\nforced many kinds of seeds into the stomachs of dead fish, and then gave\ntheir bodies to fishing-eagles, storks, and pelicans; these birds after\nan interval of many hours, either rejected the seeds in pellets or\npassed them in their excrement; and several of these seeds retained\ntheir power of germination. Certain seeds, however, were always killed\nby this process.\n\nAlthough the beaks and feet of birds are generally quite clean, I can\nshow that earth sometimes adheres to them: in one instance I removed\ntwenty-two grains of dry argillaceous earth from one foot of a\npartridge, and in this earth there was a pebble quite as large as the\nseed of a vetch. Thus seeds might occasionally be transported to great\ndistances; for many facts could be given showing that soil almost\neverywhere is charged with seeds. Reflect for a moment on the millions\nof quails which annually cross the Mediterranean; and can we doubt that\nthe earth adhering to their feet would sometimes include a few minute\nseeds? But I shall presently have to recur to this subject.\n\nAs icebergs are known to be sometimes loaded with earth and stones, and\nhave even carried brushwood, bones, and the nest of a land-bird, I can\nhardly doubt that they must occasionally have transported seeds from\none part to another of the arctic and antarctic regions, as suggested by\nLyell; and during the Glacial period from one part of the now temperate\nregions to another. In the Azores, from the large number of the species\nof plants common to Europe, in comparison with the plants of other\noceanic islands nearer to the mainland, and (as remarked by Mr. H. C.\nWatson) from the somewhat northern character of the flora in comparison\nwith the latitude, I suspected that these islands had been partly\nstocked by ice-borne seeds, during the Glacial epoch. At my request Sir\nC. Lyell wrote to M. Hartung to inquire whether he had observed erratic\nboulders on these islands, and he answered that he had found large\nfragments of granite and other rocks, which do not occur in the\narchipelago. Hence we may safely infer that icebergs formerly landed\ntheir rocky burthens on the shores of these mid-ocean islands, and it\nis at least possible that they may have brought thither the seeds of\nnorthern plants.\n\nConsidering that the several above means of transport, and that several\nother means, which without doubt remain to be discovered, have been in\naction year after year, for centuries and tens of thousands of years,\nit would I think be a marvellous fact if many plants had not thus\nbecome widely transported. These means of transport are sometimes called\naccidental, but this is not strictly correct: the currents of the sea\nare not accidental, nor is the direction of prevalent gales of wind.\nIt should be observed that scarcely any means of transport would carry\nseeds for very great distances; for seeds do not retain their vitality\nwhen exposed for a great length of time to the action of seawater; nor\ncould they be long carried in the crops or intestines of birds. These\nmeans, however, would suffice for occasional transport across tracts of\nsea some hundred miles in breadth, or from island to island, or from a\ncontinent to a neighbouring island, but not from one distant continent\nto another. The floras of distant continents would not by such means\nbecome mingled in any great degree; but would remain as distinct as we\nnow see them to be. The currents, from their course, would never bring\nseeds from North America to Britain, though they might and do bring\nseeds from the West Indies to our western shores, where, if not killed\nby so long an immersion in salt-water, they could not endure our\nclimate. Almost every year, one or two land-birds are blown across\nthe whole Atlantic Ocean, from North America to the western shores of\nIreland and England; but seeds could be transported by these wanderers\nonly by one means, namely, in dirt sticking to their feet, which is in\nitself a rare accident. Even in this case, how small would the chance\nbe of a seed falling on favourable soil, and coming to maturity! But it\nwould be a great error to argue that because a well-stocked island,\nlike Great Britain, has not, as far as is known (and it would be very\ndifficult to prove this), received within the last few centuries,\nthrough occasional means of transport, immigrants from Europe or any\nother continent, that a poorly-stocked island, though standing more\nremote from the mainland, would not receive colonists by similar means.\nI do not doubt that out of twenty seeds or animals transported to an\nisland, even if far less well-stocked than Britain, scarcely more than\none would be so well fitted to its new home, as to become naturalised.\nBut this, as it seems to me, is no valid argument against what would\nbe effected by occasional means of transport, during the long lapse of\ngeological time, whilst an island was being upheaved and formed, and\nbefore it had become fully stocked with inhabitants. On almost bare\nland, with few or no destructive insects or birds living there, nearly\nevery seed, which chanced to arrive, would be sure to germinate and\nsurvive.\n\nDISPERSAL DURING THE GLACIAL PERIOD.\n\nThe identity of many plants and animals, on mountain-summits, separated\nfrom each other by hundreds of miles of lowlands, where the Alpine\nspecies could not possibly exist, is one of the most striking cases\nknown of the same species living at distant points, without the apparent\npossibility of their having migrated from one to the other. It is indeed\na remarkable fact to see so many of the same plants living on the snowy\nregions of the Alps or Pyrenees, and in the extreme northern parts of\nEurope; but it is far more remarkable, that the plants on the White\nMountains, in the United States of America, are all the same with those\nof Labrador, and nearly all the same, as we hear from Asa Gray, with\nthose on the loftiest mountains of Europe. Even as long ago as 1747,\nsuch facts led Gmelin to conclude that the same species must have been\nindependently created at several distinct points; and we might have\nremained in this same belief, had not Agassiz and others called vivid\nattention to the Glacial period, which, as we shall immediately see,\naffords a simple explanation of these facts. We have evidence of almost\nevery conceivable kind, organic and inorganic, that within a very recent\ngeological period, central Europe and North America suffered under an\nArctic climate. The ruins of a house burnt by fire do not tell their\ntale more plainly, than do the mountains of Scotland and Wales, with\ntheir scored flanks, polished surfaces, and perched boulders, of the icy\nstreams with which their valleys were lately filled. So greatly has the\nclimate of Europe changed, that in Northern Italy, gigantic moraines,\nleft by old glaciers, are now clothed by the vine and maize. Throughout\na large part of the United States, erratic boulders, and rocks scored by\ndrifted icebergs and coast-ice, plainly reveal a former cold period.\n\nThe former influence of the glacial climate on the distribution of the\ninhabitants of Europe, as explained with remarkable clearness by Edward\nForbes, is substantially as follows. But we shall follow the changes\nmore readily, by supposing a new glacial period to come slowly on, and\nthen pass away, as formerly occurred. As the cold came on, and as each\nmore southern zone became fitted for arctic beings and ill-fitted for\ntheir former more temperate inhabitants, the latter would be supplanted\nand arctic productions would take their places. The inhabitants of the\nmore temperate regions would at the same time travel southward, unless\nthey were stopped by barriers, in which case they would perish. The\nmountains would become covered with snow and ice, and their former\nAlpine inhabitants would descend to the plains. By the time that the\ncold had reached its maximum, we should have a uniform arctic fauna and\nflora, covering the central parts of Europe, as far south as the Alps\nand Pyrenees, and even stretching into Spain. The now temperate regions\nof the United States would likewise be covered by arctic plants and\nanimals, and these would be nearly the same with those of Europe; for\nthe present circumpolar inhabitants, which we suppose to have everywhere\ntravelled southward, are remarkably uniform round the world. We may\nsuppose that the Glacial period came on a little earlier or later in\nNorth America than in Europe, so will the southern migration there have\nbeen a little earlier or later; but this will make no difference in the\nfinal result.\n\nAs the warmth returned, the arctic forms would retreat northward,\nclosely followed up in their retreat by the productions of the more\ntemperate regions. And as the snow melted from the bases of the\nmountains, the arctic forms would seize on the cleared and thawed\nground, always ascending higher and higher, as the warmth increased,\nwhilst their brethren were pursuing their northern journey. Hence, when\nthe warmth had fully returned, the same arctic species, which had lately\nlived in a body together on the lowlands of the Old and New Worlds,\nwould be left isolated on distant mountain-summits (having been\nexterminated on all lesser heights) and in the arctic regions of both\nhemispheres.\n\nThus we can understand the identity of many plants at points so\nimmensely remote as on the mountains of the United States and of Europe.\nWe can thus also understand the fact that the Alpine plants of each\nmountain-range are more especially related to the arctic forms living\ndue north or nearly due north of them: for the migration as the cold\ncame on, and the re-migration on the returning warmth, will generally\nhave been due south and north. The Alpine plants, for example, of\nScotland, as remarked by Mr. H. C. Watson, and those of the Pyrenees, as\nremarked by Ramond, are more especially allied to the plants of northern\nScandinavia; those of the United States to Labrador; those of the\nmountains of Siberia to the arctic regions of that country. These views,\ngrounded as they are on the perfectly well-ascertained occurrence of a\nformer Glacial period, seem to me to explain in so satisfactory a manner\nthe present distribution of the Alpine and Arctic productions of Europe\nand America, that when in other regions we find the same species on\ndistant mountain-summits, we may almost conclude without other evidence,\nthat a colder climate permitted their former migration across the low\nintervening tracts, since become too warm for their existence.\n\nIf the climate, since the Glacial period, has ever been in any degree\nwarmer than at present (as some geologists in the United States believe\nto have been the case, chiefly from the distribution of the fossil\nGnathodon), then the arctic and temperate productions will at a very\nlate period have marched a little further north, and subsequently have\nretreated to their present homes; but I have met with no satisfactory\nevidence with respect to this intercalated slightly warmer period, since\nthe Glacial period.\n\nThe arctic forms, during their long southern migration and re-migration\nnorthward, will have been exposed to nearly the same climate, and, as\nis especially to be noticed, they will have kept in a body together;\nconsequently their mutual relations will not have been much disturbed,\nand, in accordance with the principles inculcated in this volume, they\nwill not have been liable to much modification. But with our Alpine\nproductions, left isolated from the moment of the returning warmth,\nfirst at the bases and ultimately on the summits of the mountains, the\ncase will have been somewhat different; for it is not likely that all\nthe same arctic species will have been left on mountain ranges distant\nfrom each other, and have survived there ever since; they will, also, in\nall probability have become mingled with ancient Alpine species, which\nmust have existed on the mountains before the commencement of the\nGlacial epoch, and which during its coldest period will have been\ntemporarily driven down to the plains; they will, also, have been\nexposed to somewhat different climatal influences. Their mutual\nrelations will thus have been in some degree disturbed; consequently\nthey will have been liable to modification; and this we find has been\nthe case; for if we compare the present Alpine plants and animals of the\nseveral great European mountain-ranges, though very many of the species\nare identically the same, some present varieties, some are ranked\nas doubtful forms, and some few are distinct yet closely allied or\nrepresentative species.\n\nIn illustrating what, as I believe, actually took place during\nthe Glacial period, I assumed that at its commencement the arctic\nproductions were as uniform round the polar regions as they are at the\npresent day. But the foregoing remarks on distribution apply not only\nto strictly arctic forms, but also to many sub-arctic and to some few\nnorthern temperate forms, for some of these are the same on the lower\nmountains and on the plains of North America and Europe; and it may be\nreasonably asked how I account for the necessary degree of uniformity\nof the sub-arctic and northern temperate forms round the world, at the\ncommencement of the Glacial period. At the present day, the sub-arctic\nand northern temperate productions of the Old and New Worlds are\nseparated from each other by the Atlantic Ocean and by the extreme\nnorthern part of the Pacific. During the Glacial period, when the\ninhabitants of the Old and New Worlds lived further southwards than at\npresent, they must have been still more completely separated by wider\nspaces of ocean. I believe the above difficulty may be surmounted by\nlooking to still earlier changes of climate of an opposite nature.\nWe have good reason to believe that during the newer Pliocene period,\nbefore the Glacial epoch, and whilst the majority of the inhabitants of\nthe world were specifically the same as now, the climate was warmer than\nat the present day. Hence we may suppose that the organisms now living\nunder the climate of latitude 60 deg, during the Pliocene period lived\nfurther north under the Polar Circle, in latitude 66 deg-67 deg; and\nthat the strictly arctic productions then lived on the broken land still\nnearer to the pole. Now if we look at a globe, we shall see that under\nthe Polar Circle there is almost continuous land from western Europe,\nthrough Siberia, to eastern America. And to this continuity of the\ncircumpolar land, and to the consequent freedom for intermigration\nunder a more favourable climate, I attribute the necessary amount of\nuniformity in the sub-arctic and northern temperate productions of the\nOld and New Worlds, at a period anterior to the Glacial epoch.\n\nBelieving, from reasons before alluded to, that our continents have\nlong remained in nearly the same relative position, though subjected\nto large, but partial oscillations of level, I am strongly inclined to\nextend the above view, and to infer that during some earlier and still\nwarmer period, such as the older Pliocene period, a large number of\nthe same plants and animals inhabited the almost continuous circumpolar\nland; and that these plants and animals, both in the Old and New Worlds,\nbegan slowly to migrate southwards as the climate became less warm, long\nbefore the commencement of the Glacial period. We now see, as I believe,\ntheir descendants, mostly in a modified condition, in the central parts\nof Europe and the United States. On this view we can understand the\nrelationship, with very little identity, between the productions of\nNorth America and Europe,--a relationship which is most remarkable,\nconsidering the distance of the two areas, and their separation by the\nAtlantic Ocean. We can further understand the singular fact remarked on\nby several observers, that the productions of Europe and America during\nthe later tertiary stages were more closely related to each other\nthan they are at the present time; for during these warmer periods\nthe northern parts of the Old and New Worlds will have been almost\ncontinuously united by land, serving as a bridge, since rendered\nimpassable by cold, for the inter-migration of their inhabitants.\n\nDuring the slowly decreasing warmth of the Pliocene period, as soon as\nthe species in common, which inhabited the New and Old Worlds, migrated\nsouth of the Polar Circle, they must have been completely cut off from\neach other. This separation, as far as the more temperate productions\nare concerned, took place long ages ago. And as the plants and animals\nmigrated southward, they will have become mingled in the one great\nregion with the native American productions, and have had to compete\nwith them; and in the other great region, with those of the Old\nWorld. Consequently we have here everything favourable for much\nmodification,--for far more modification than with the Alpine\nproductions, left isolated, within a much more recent period, on the\nseveral mountain-ranges and on the arctic lands of the two Worlds. Hence\nit has come, that when we compare the now living productions of the\ntemperate regions of the New and Old Worlds, we find very few identical\nspecies (though Asa Gray has lately shown that more plants are identical\nthan was formerly supposed), but we find in every great class many\nforms, which some naturalists rank as geographical races, and others as\ndistinct species; and a host of closely allied or representative forms\nwhich are ranked by all naturalists as specifically distinct.\n\nAs on the land, so in the waters of the sea, a slow southern migration\nof a marine fauna, which during the Pliocene or even a somewhat earlier\nperiod, was nearly uniform along the continuous shores of the Polar\nCircle, will account, on the theory of modification, for many closely\nallied forms now living in areas completely sundered. Thus, I think, we\ncan understand the presence of many existing and tertiary representative\nforms on the eastern and western shores of temperate North America;\nand the still more striking case of many closely allied crustaceans\n(as described in Dana's admirable work), of some fish and other marine\nanimals, in the Mediterranean and in the seas of Japan,--areas now\nseparated by a continent and by nearly a hemisphere of equatorial ocean.\n\nThese cases of relationship, without identity, of the inhabitants of\nseas now disjoined, and likewise of the past and present inhabitants of\nthe temperate lands of North America and Europe, are inexplicable on the\ntheory of creation. We cannot say that they have been created alike, in\ncorrespondence with the nearly similar physical conditions of the areas;\nfor if we compare, for instance, certain parts of South America with\nthe southern continents of the Old World, we see countries closely\ncorresponding in all their physical conditions, but with their\ninhabitants utterly dissimilar.\n\nBut we must return to our more immediate subject, the Glacial period.\nI am convinced that Forbes's view may be largely extended. In Europe we\nhave the plainest evidence of the cold period, from the western shores\nof Britain to the Oural range, and southward to the Pyrenees. We may\ninfer, from the frozen mammals and nature of the mountain vegetation,\nthat Siberia was similarly affected. Along the Himalaya, at points 900\nmiles apart, glaciers have left the marks of their former low descent;\nand in Sikkim, Dr. Hooker saw maize growing on gigantic ancient\nmoraines. South of the equator, we have some direct evidence of former\nglacial action in New Zealand; and the same plants, found on widely\nseparated mountains in this island, tell the same story. If one account\nwhich has been published can be trusted, we have direct evidence of\nglacial action in the south-eastern corner of Australia.\n\nLooking to America; in the northern half, ice-borne fragments of rock\nhave been observed on the eastern side as far south as lat. 36 deg-37\ndeg, and on the shores of the Pacific, where the climate is now so\ndifferent, as far south as lat. 46 deg; erratic boulders have, also,\nbeen noticed on the Rocky Mountains. In the Cordillera of Equatorial\nSouth America, glaciers once extended far below their present level.\nIn central Chile I was astonished at the structure of a vast mound of\ndetritus, about 800 feet in height, crossing a valley of the Andes; and\nthis I now feel convinced was a gigantic moraine, left far below any\nexisting glacier. Further south on both sides of the continent, from\nlat. 41 deg to the southernmost extremity, we have the clearest evidence\nof former glacial action, in huge boulders transported far from their\nparent source.\n\nWe do not know that the Glacial epoch was strictly simultaneous at these\nseveral far distant points on opposite sides of the world. But we have\ngood evidence in almost every case, that the epoch was included within\nthe latest geological period. We have, also, excellent evidence, that it\nendured for an enormous time, as measured by years, at each point. The\ncold may have come on, or have ceased, earlier at one point of the globe\nthan at another, but seeing that it endured for long at each, and that\nit was contemporaneous in a geological sense, it seems to me probable\nthat it was, during a part at least of the period, actually simultaneous\nthroughout the world. Without some distinct evidence to the contrary, we\nmay at least admit as probable that the glacial action was simultaneous\non the eastern and western sides of North America, in the Cordillera\nunder the equator and under the warmer temperate zones, and on both\nsides of the southern extremity of the continent. If this be admitted,\nit is difficult to avoid believing that the temperature of the whole\nworld was at this period simultaneously cooler. But it would suffice for\nmy purpose, if the temperature was at the same time lower along certain\nbroad belts of longitude.\n\nOn this view of the whole world, or at least of broad longitudinal\nbelts, having been simultaneously colder from pole to pole, much light\ncan be thrown on the present distribution of identical and allied\nspecies. In America, Dr. Hooker has shown that between forty and fifty\nof the flowering plants of Tierra del Fuego, forming no inconsiderable\npart of its scanty flora, are common to Europe, enormously remote as\nthese two points are; and there are many closely allied species. On\nthe lofty mountains of equatorial America a host of peculiar species\nbelonging to European genera occur. On the highest mountains of Brazil,\nsome few European genera were found by Gardner, which do not exist in\nthe wide intervening hot countries. So on the Silla of Caraccas\nthe illustrious Humboldt long ago found species belonging to genera\ncharacteristic of the Cordillera. On the mountains of Abyssinia, several\nEuropean forms and some few representatives of the peculiar flora of the\nCape of Good Hope occur. At the Cape of Good Hope a very few European\nspecies, believed not to have been introduced by man, and on the\nmountains, some few representative European forms are found, which\nhave not been discovered in the intertropical parts of Africa. On the\nHimalaya, and on the isolated mountain-ranges of the peninsula of India,\non the heights of Ceylon, and on the volcanic cones of Java, many plants\noccur, either identically the same or representing each other, and\nat the same time representing plants of Europe, not found in the\nintervening hot lowlands. A list of the genera collected on the loftier\npeaks of Java raises a picture of a collection made on a hill in Europe!\nStill more striking is the fact that southern Australian forms are\nclearly represented by plants growing on the summits of the mountains\nof Borneo. Some of these Australian forms, as I hear from Dr. Hooker,\nextend along the heights of the peninsula of Malacca, and are thinly\nscattered, on the one hand over India and on the other as far north as\nJapan.\n\nOn the southern mountains of Australia, Dr. F. Muller has discovered\nseveral European species; other species, not introduced by man, occur\non the lowlands; and a long list can be given, as I am informed by\nDr. Hooker, of European genera, found in Australia, but not in the\nintermediate torrid regions. In the admirable 'Introduction to the Flora\nof New Zealand,' by Dr. Hooker, analogous and striking facts are\ngiven in regard to the plants of that large island. Hence we see that\nthroughout the world, the plants growing on the more lofty mountains,\nand on the temperate lowlands of the northern and southern hemispheres,\nare sometimes identically the same; but they are much oftener\nspecifically distinct, though related to each other in a most remarkable\nmanner.\n\nThis brief abstract applies to plants alone: some strictly analogous\nfacts could be given on the distribution of terrestrial animals. In\nmarine productions, similar cases occur; as an example, I may quote a\nremark by the highest authority, Professor Dana, that \"it is certainly a\nwonderful fact that New Zealand should have a closer resemblance in its\ncrustacea to Great Britain, its antipode, than to any other part of\nthe world.\" Sir J. Richardson, also, speaks of the reappearance on the\nshores of New Zealand, Tasmania, etc., of northern forms of fish. Dr.\nHooker informs me that twenty-five species of Algae are common to New\nZealand and to Europe, but have not been found in the intermediate\ntropical seas.\n\nIt should be observed that the northern species and forms found in the\nsouthern parts of the southern hemisphere, and on the mountain-ranges\nof the intertropical regions, are not arctic, but belong to the northern\ntemperate zones. As Mr. H. C. Watson has recently remarked, \"In receding\nfrom polar towards equatorial latitudes, the Alpine or mountain floras\nreally become less and less arctic.\" Many of the forms living on\nthe mountains of the warmer regions of the earth and in the southern\nhemisphere are of doubtful value, being ranked by some naturalists as\nspecifically distinct, by others as varieties; but some are certainly\nidentical, and many, though closely related to northern forms, must be\nranked as distinct species.\n\nNow let us see what light can be thrown on the foregoing facts, on the\nbelief, supported as it is by a large body of geological evidence, that\nthe whole world, or a large part of it, was during the Glacial period\nsimultaneously much colder than at present. The Glacial period, as\nmeasured by years, must have been very long; and when we remember over\nwhat vast spaces some naturalised plants and animals have spread within\na few centuries, this period will have been ample for any amount of\nmigration. As the cold came slowly on, all the tropical plants and other\nproductions will have retreated from both sides towards the equator,\nfollowed in the rear by the temperate productions, and these by the\narctic; but with the latter we are not now concerned. The tropical\nplants probably suffered much extinction; how much no one can say;\nperhaps formerly the tropics supported as many species as we see at the\npresent day crowded together at the Cape of Good Hope, and in parts of\ntemperate Australia. As we know that many tropical plants and animals\ncan withstand a considerable amount of cold, many might have escaped\nextermination during a moderate fall of temperature, more especially by\nescaping into the warmest spots. But the great fact to bear in mind is,\nthat all tropical productions will have suffered to a certain extent. On\nthe other hand, the temperate productions, after migrating nearer to\nthe equator, though they will have been placed under somewhat new\nconditions, will have suffered less. And it is certain that many\ntemperate plants, if protected from the inroads of competitors, can\nwithstand a much warmer climate than their own. Hence, it seems to\nme possible, bearing in mind that the tropical productions were in\na suffering state and could not have presented a firm front against\nintruders, that a certain number of the more vigorous and dominant\ntemperate forms might have penetrated the native ranks and have reached\nor even crossed the equator. The invasion would, of course, have been\ngreatly favoured by high land, and perhaps by a dry climate; for Dr.\nFalconer informs me that it is the damp with the heat of the tropics\nwhich is so destructive to perennial plants from a temperate climate. On\nthe other hand, the most humid and hottest districts will have afforded\nan asylum to the tropical natives. The mountain-ranges north-west of the\nHimalaya, and the long line of the Cordillera, seem to have afforded two\ngreat lines of invasion: and it is a striking fact, lately communicated\nto me by Dr. Hooker, that all the flowering plants, about forty-six in\nnumber, common to Tierra del Fuego and to Europe still exist in North\nAmerica, which must have lain on the line of march. But I do not doubt\nthat some temperate productions entered and crossed even the LOWLANDS of\nthe tropics at the period when the cold was most intense,--when arctic\nforms had migrated some twenty-five degrees of latitude from their\nnative country and covered the land at the foot of the Pyrenees. At this\nperiod of extreme cold, I believe that the climate under the equator at\nthe level of the sea was about the same with that now felt there at the\nheight of six or seven thousand feet. During this the coldest period, I\nsuppose that large spaces of the tropical lowlands were clothed with a\nmingled tropical and temperate vegetation, like that now growing with\nstrange luxuriance at the base of the Himalaya, as graphically described\nby Hooker.\n\nThus, as I believe, a considerable number of plants, a few terrestrial\nanimals, and some marine productions, migrated during the Glacial period\nfrom the northern and southern temperate zones into the intertropical\nregions, and some even crossed the equator. As the warmth returned,\nthese temperate forms would naturally ascend the higher mountains, being\nexterminated on the lowlands; those which had not reached the equator,\nwould re-migrate northward or southward towards their former homes; but\nthe forms, chiefly northern, which had crossed the equator, would travel\nstill further from their homes into the more temperate latitudes of the\nopposite hemisphere. Although we have reason to believe from geological\nevidence that the whole body of arctic shells underwent scarcely any\nmodification during their long southern migration and re-migration\nnorthward, the case may have been wholly different with those intruding\nforms which settled themselves on the intertropical mountains, and in\nthe southern hemisphere. These being surrounded by strangers will have\nhad to compete with many new forms of life; and it is probable that\nselected modifications in their structure, habits, and constitutions\nwill have profited them. Thus many of these wanderers, though still\nplainly related by inheritance to their brethren of the northern or\nsouthern hemispheres, now exist in their new homes as well-marked\nvarieties or as distinct species.\n\nIt is a remarkable fact, strongly insisted on by Hooker in regard to\nAmerica, and by Alph. de Candolle in regard to Australia, that many\nmore identical plants and allied forms have apparently migrated from the\nnorth to the south, than in a reversed direction. We see, however, a\nfew southern vegetable forms on the mountains of Borneo and Abyssinia.\nI suspect that this preponderant migration from north to south is due\nto the greater extent of land in the north, and to the northern forms\nhaving existed in their own homes in greater numbers, and having\nconsequently been advanced through natural selection and competition\nto a higher stage of perfection or dominating power, than the southern\nforms. And thus, when they became commingled during the Glacial period,\nthe northern forms were enabled to beat the less powerful southern\nforms. Just in the same manner as we see at the present day, that very\nmany European productions cover the ground in La Plata, and in a lesser\ndegree in Australia, and have to a certain extent beaten the natives;\nwhereas extremely few southern forms have become naturalised in any part\nof Europe, though hides, wool, and other objects likely to carry seeds\nhave been largely imported into Europe during the last two or three\ncenturies from La Plata, and during the last thirty or forty years\nfrom Australia. Something of the same kind must have occurred on the\nintertropical mountains: no doubt before the Glacial period they were\nstocked with endemic Alpine forms; but these have almost everywhere\nlargely yielded to the more dominant forms, generated in the larger\nareas and more efficient workshops of the north. In many islands the\nnative productions are nearly equalled or even outnumbered by the\nnaturalised; and if the natives have not been actually exterminated,\ntheir numbers have been greatly reduced, and this is the first stage\ntowards extinction. A mountain is an island on the land; and the\nintertropical mountains before the Glacial period must have been\ncompletely isolated; and I believe that the productions of these islands\non the land yielded to those produced within the larger areas of the\nnorth, just in the same way as the productions of real islands have\neverywhere lately yielded to continental forms, naturalised by man's\nagency.\n\nI am far from supposing that all difficulties are removed on the view\nhere given in regard to the range and affinities of the allied species\nwhich live in the northern and southern temperate zones and on the\nmountains of the intertropical regions. Very many difficulties remain\nto be solved. I do not pretend to indicate the exact lines and means\nof migration, or the reason why certain species and not others have\nmigrated; why certain species have been modified and have given rise to\nnew groups of forms, and others have remained unaltered. We cannot hope\nto explain such facts, until we can say why one species and not another\nbecomes naturalised by man's agency in a foreign land; why one ranges\ntwice or thrice as far, and is twice or thrice as common, as another\nspecies within their own homes.\n\nI have said that many difficulties remain to be solved: some of the\nmost remarkable are stated with admirable clearness by Dr. Hooker in\nhis botanical works on the antarctic regions. These cannot be here\ndiscussed. I will only say that as far as regards the occurrence of\nidentical species at points so enormously remote as Kerguelen Land, New\nZealand, and Fuegia, I believe that towards the close of the Glacial\nperiod, icebergs, as suggested by Lyell, have been largely concerned in\ntheir dispersal. But the existence of several quite distinct species,\nbelonging to genera exclusively confined to the south, at these and\nother distant points of the southern hemisphere, is, on my theory of\ndescent with modification, a far more remarkable case of difficulty. For\nsome of these species are so distinct, that we cannot suppose that there\nhas been time since the commencement of the Glacial period for their\nmigration, and for their subsequent modification to the necessary\ndegree. The facts seem to me to indicate that peculiar and very distinct\nspecies have migrated in radiating lines from some common centre; and I\nam inclined to look in the southern, as in the northern hemisphere, to a\nformer and warmer period, before the commencement of the Glacial period,\nwhen the antarctic lands, now covered with ice, supported a highly\npeculiar and isolated flora. I suspect that before this flora was\nexterminated by the Glacial epoch, a few forms were widely dispersed\nto various points of the southern hemisphere by occasional means of\ntransport, and by the aid, as halting-places, of existing and now sunken\nislands, and perhaps at the commencement of the Glacial period, by\nicebergs. By these means, as I believe, the southern shores of America,\nAustralia, New Zealand have become slightly tinted by the same peculiar\nforms of vegetable life.\n\nSir C. Lyell in a striking passage has speculated, in language almost\nidentical with mine, on the effects of great alternations of climate on\ngeographical distribution. I believe that the world has recently felt\none of his great cycles of change; and that on this view, combined with\nmodification through natural selection, a multitude of facts in the\npresent distribution both of the same and of allied forms of life can be\nexplained. The living waters may be said to have flowed during one short\nperiod from the north and from the south, and to have crossed at the\nequator; but to have flowed with greater force from the north so as\nto have freely inundated the south. As the tide leaves its drift in\nhorizontal lines, though rising higher on the shores where the tide\nrises highest, so have the living waters left their living drift on our\nmountain-summits, in a line gently rising from the arctic lowlands to\na great height under the equator. The various beings thus left stranded\nmay be compared with savage races of man, driven up and surviving in the\nmountain-fastnesses of almost every land, which serve as a record,\nfull of interest to us, of the former inhabitants of the surrounding\nlowlands.\n\n\n\n\n12. GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION--continued.\n\nDistribution of fresh-water productions. On the inhabitants of oceanic\nislands. Absence of Batrachians and of terrestrial Mammals. On the\nrelation of the inhabitants of islands to those of the nearest mainland.\nOn colonisation from the nearest source with subsequent modification.\nSummary of the last and present chapters.\n\nAs lakes and river-systems are separated from each other by barriers of\nland, it might have been thought that fresh-water productions would not\nhave ranged widely within the same country, and as the sea is apparently\na still more impassable barrier, that they never would have extended to\ndistant countries. But the case is exactly the reverse. Not only have\nmany fresh-water species, belonging to quite different classes, an\nenormous range, but allied species prevail in a remarkable manner\nthroughout the world. I well remember, when first collecting in the\nfresh waters of Brazil, feeling much surprise at the similarity of\nthe fresh-water insects, shells, etc., and at the dissimilarity of the\nsurrounding terrestrial beings, compared with those of Britain.\n\nBut this power in fresh-water productions of ranging widely, though so\nunexpected, can, I think, in most cases be explained by their having\nbecome fitted, in a manner highly useful to them, for short and frequent\nmigrations from pond to pond, or from stream to stream; and liability\nto wide dispersal would follow from this capacity as an almost necessary\nconsequence. We can here consider only a few cases. In regard to fish, I\nbelieve that the same species never occur in the fresh waters of distant\ncontinents. But on the same continent the species often range widely and\nalmost capriciously; for two river-systems will have some fish in common\nand some different. A few facts seem to favour the possibility of their\noccasional transport by accidental means; like that of the live fish\nnot rarely dropped by whirlwinds in India, and the vitality of their\nova when removed from the water. But I am inclined to attribute the\ndispersal of fresh-water fish mainly to slight changes within the recent\nperiod in the level of the land, having caused rivers to flow into each\nother. Instances, also, could be given of this having occurred during\nfloods, without any change of level. We have evidence in the loess of\nthe Rhine of considerable changes of level in the land within a very\nrecent geological period, and when the surface was peopled by existing\nland and fresh-water shells. The wide difference of the fish on opposite\nsides of continuous mountain-ranges, which from an early period must\nhave parted river-systems and completely prevented their inosculation,\nseems to lead to this same conclusion. With respect to allied\nfresh-water fish occurring at very distant points of the world, no doubt\nthere are many cases which cannot at present be explained: but some\nfresh-water fish belong to very ancient forms, and in such cases\nthere will have been ample time for great geographical changes, and\nconsequently time and means for much migration. In the second place,\nsalt-water fish can with care be slowly accustomed to live in fresh\nwater; and, according to Valenciennes, there is hardly a single group of\nfishes confined exclusively to fresh water, so that we may imagine that\na marine member of a fresh-water group might travel far along the shores\nof the sea, and subsequently become modified and adapted to the fresh\nwaters of a distant land.\n\nSome species of fresh-water shells have a very wide range, and allied\nspecies, which, on my theory, are descended from a common parent and\nmust have proceeded from a single source, prevail throughout the world.\nTheir distribution at first perplexed me much, as their ova are not\nlikely to be transported by birds, and they are immediately killed\nby sea water, as are the adults. I could not even understand how some\nnaturalised species have rapidly spread throughout the same country. But\ntwo facts, which I have observed--and no doubt many others remain to be\nobserved--throw some light on this subject. When a duck suddenly emerges\nfrom a pond covered with duck-weed, I have twice seen these little\nplants adhering to its back; and it has happened to me, in removing\na little duck-weed from one aquarium to another, that I have quite\nunintentionally stocked the one with fresh-water shells from the other.\nBut another agency is perhaps more effectual: I suspended a duck's feet,\nwhich might represent those of a bird sleeping in a natural pond, in\nan aquarium, where many ova of fresh-water shells were hatching; and\nI found that numbers of the extremely minute and just hatched shells\ncrawled on the feet, and clung to them so firmly that when taken out\nof the water they could not be jarred off, though at a somewhat more\nadvanced age they would voluntarily drop off. These just hatched\nmolluscs, though aquatic in their nature, survived on the duck's feet,\nin damp air, from twelve to twenty hours; and in this length of time a\nduck or heron might fly at least six or seven hundred miles, and would\nbe sure to alight on a pool or rivulet, if blown across sea to an\noceanic island or to any other distant point. Sir Charles Lyell also\ninforms me that a Dyticus has been caught with an Ancylus (a fresh-water\nshell like a limpet) firmly adhering to it; and a water-beetle of\nthe same family, a Colymbetes, once flew on board the 'Beagle,' when\nforty-five miles distant from the nearest land: how much farther it\nmight have flown with a favouring gale no one can tell.\n\nWith respect to plants, it has long been known what enormous ranges many\nfresh-water and even marsh-species have, both over continents and to the\nmost remote oceanic islands. This is strikingly shown, as remarked by\nAlph. de Candolle, in large groups of terrestrial plants, which have\nonly a very few aquatic members; for these latter seem immediately to\nacquire, as if in consequence, a very wide range. I think favourable\nmeans of dispersal explain this fact. I have before mentioned that earth\noccasionally, though rarely, adheres in some quantity to the feet and\nbeaks of birds. Wading birds, which frequent the muddy edges of ponds,\nif suddenly flushed, would be the most likely to have muddy feet.\nBirds of this order I can show are the greatest wanderers, and are\noccasionally found on the most remote and barren islands in the open\nocean; they would not be likely to alight on the surface of the sea, so\nthat the dirt would not be washed off their feet; when making land,\nthey would be sure to fly to their natural fresh-water haunts. I do not\nbelieve that botanists are aware how charged the mud of ponds is with\nseeds: I have tried several little experiments, but will here give only\nthe most striking case: I took in February three table-spoonfuls of\nmud from three different points, beneath water, on the edge of a little\npond; this mud when dry weighed only 6 3/4 ounces; I kept it covered\nup in my study for six months, pulling up and counting each plant as it\ngrew; the plants were of many kinds, and were altogether 537 in number;\nand yet the viscid mud was all contained in a breakfast cup! Considering\nthese facts, I think it would be an inexplicable circumstance if\nwater-birds did not transport the seeds of fresh-water plants to vast\ndistances, and if consequently the range of these plants was not very\ngreat. The same agency may have come into play with the eggs of some of\nthe smaller fresh-water animals.\n\nOther and unknown agencies probably have also played a part. I have\nstated that fresh-water fish eat some kinds of seeds, though they reject\nmany other kinds after having swallowed them; even small fish swallow\nseeds of moderate size, as of the yellow water-lily and Potamogeton.\nHerons and other birds, century after century, have gone on daily\ndevouring fish; they then take flight and go to other waters, or are\nblown across the sea; and we have seen that seeds retain their power\nof germination, when rejected in pellets or in excrement, many hours\nafterwards. When I saw the great size of the seeds of that fine\nwater-lily, the Nelumbium, and remembered Alph. de Candolle's remarks\non this plant, I thought that its distribution must remain quite\ninexplicable; but Audubon states that he found the seeds of the great\nsouthern water-lily (probably, according to Dr. Hooker, the Nelumbium\nluteum) in a heron's stomach; although I do not know the fact, yet\nanalogy makes me believe that a heron flying to another pond and getting\na hearty meal of fish, would probably reject from its stomach a pellet\ncontaining the seeds of the Nelumbium undigested; or the seeds might be\ndropped by the bird whilst feeding its young, in the same way as fish\nare known sometimes to be dropped.\n\nIn considering these several means of distribution, it should be\nremembered that when a pond or stream is first formed, for instance,\non a rising islet, it will be unoccupied; and a single seed or egg\nwill have a good chance of succeeding. Although there will always be a\nstruggle for life between the individuals of the species, however\nfew, already occupying any pond, yet as the number of kinds is small,\ncompared with those on the land, the competition will probably be less\nsevere between aquatic than between terrestrial species; consequently\nan intruder from the waters of a foreign country, would have a better\nchance of seizing on a place, than in the case of terrestrial colonists.\nWe should, also, remember that some, perhaps many, fresh-water\nproductions are low in the scale of nature, and that we have reason to\nbelieve that such low beings change or become modified less quickly\nthan the high; and this will give longer time than the average for\nthe migration of the same aquatic species. We should not forget the\nprobability of many species having formerly ranged as continuously as\nfresh-water productions ever can range, over immense areas, and having\nsubsequently become extinct in intermediate regions. But the wide\ndistribution of fresh-water plants and of the lower animals, whether\nretaining the same identical form or in some degree modified, I believe\nmainly depends on the wide dispersal of their seeds and eggs by animals,\nmore especially by fresh-water birds, which have large powers of flight,\nand naturally travel from one to another and often distant piece of\nwater. Nature, like a careful gardener, thus takes her seeds from a bed\nof a particular nature, and drops them in another equally well fitted\nfor them.\n\nON THE INHABITANTS OF OCEANIC ISLANDS.\n\nWe now come to the last of the three classes of facts, which I have\nselected as presenting the greatest amount of difficulty, on the view\nthat all the individuals both of the same and of allied species have\ndescended from a single parent; and therefore have all proceeded from a\ncommon birthplace, notwithstanding that in the course of time they have\ncome to inhabit distant points of the globe. I have already stated that\nI cannot honestly admit Forbes's view on continental extensions, which,\nif legitimately followed out, would lead to the belief that within the\nrecent period all existing islands have been nearly or quite joined to\nsome continent. This view would remove many difficulties, but it would\nnot, I think, explain all the facts in regard to insular productions. In\nthe following remarks I shall not confine myself to the mere question of\ndispersal; but shall consider some other facts, which bear on the\ntruth of the two theories of independent creation and of descent with\nmodification.\n\nThe species of all kinds which inhabit oceanic islands are few in number\ncompared with those on equal continental areas: Alph. de Candolle admits\nthis for plants, and Wollaston for insects. If we look to the large\nsize and varied stations of New Zealand, extending over 780 miles of\nlatitude, and compare its flowering plants, only 750 in number, with\nthose on an equal area at the Cape of Good Hope or in Australia,\nwe must, I think, admit that something quite independently of any\ndifference in physical conditions has caused so great a difference in\nnumber. Even the uniform county of Cambridge has 847 plants, and the\nlittle island of Anglesea 764, but a few ferns and a few introduced\nplants are included in these numbers, and the comparison in some other\nrespects is not quite fair. We have evidence that the barren island of\nAscension aboriginally possessed under half-a-dozen flowering plants;\nyet many have become naturalised on it, as they have on New Zealand and\non every other oceanic island which can be named. In St. Helena there is\nreason to believe that the naturalised plants and animals have nearly or\nquite exterminated many native productions. He who admits the doctrine\nof the creation of each separate species, will have to admit, that a\nsufficient number of the best adapted plants and animals have not been\ncreated on oceanic islands; for man has unintentionally stocked them\nfrom various sources far more fully and perfectly than has nature.\n\nAlthough in oceanic islands the number of kinds of inhabitants is\nscanty, the proportion of endemic species (i.e. those found nowhere else\nin the world) is often extremely large. If we compare, for instance, the\nnumber of the endemic land-shells in Madeira, or of the endemic birds in\nthe Galapagos Archipelago, with the number found on any continent, and\nthen compare the area of the islands with that of the continent, we\nshall see that this is true. This fact might have been expected on my\ntheory, for, as already explained, species occasionally arriving after\nlong intervals in a new and isolated district, and having to compete\nwith new associates, will be eminently liable to modification, and\nwill often produce groups of modified descendants. But it by no means\nfollows, that, because in an island nearly all the species of one class\nare peculiar, those of another class, or of another section of the same\nclass, are peculiar; and this difference seems to depend on the species\nwhich do not become modified having immigrated with facility and in a\nbody, so that their mutual relations have not been much disturbed. Thus\nin the Galapagos Islands nearly every land-bird, but only two out of the\neleven marine birds, are peculiar; and it is obvious that marine birds\ncould arrive at these islands more easily than land-birds. Bermuda, on\nthe other hand, which lies at about the same distance from North America\nas the Galapagos Islands do from South America, and which has a very\npeculiar soil, does not possess one endemic land bird; and we know from\nMr. J. M. Jones's admirable account of Bermuda, that very many North\nAmerican birds, during their great annual migrations, visit either\nperiodically or occasionally this island. Madeira does not possess one\npeculiar bird, and many European and African birds are almost every year\nblown there, as I am informed by Mr. E. V. Harcourt. So that these two\nislands of Bermuda and Madeira have been stocked by birds, which for\nlong ages have struggled together in their former homes, and have become\nmutually adapted to each other; and when settled in their new homes,\neach kind will have been kept by the others to their proper places and\nhabits, and will consequently have been little liable to modification.\nMadeira, again, is inhabited by a wonderful number of peculiar\nland-shells, whereas not one species of sea-shell is confined to its\nshores: now, though we do not know how seashells are dispersed, yet\nwe can see that their eggs or larvae, perhaps attached to seaweed or\nfloating timber, or to the feet of wading-birds, might be transported\nfar more easily than land-shells, across three or four hundred miles of\nopen sea. The different orders of insects in Madeira apparently present\nanalogous facts.\n\nOceanic islands are sometimes deficient in certain classes, and\ntheir places are apparently occupied by the other inhabitants; in the\nGalapagos Islands reptiles, and in New Zealand gigantic wingless birds,\ntake the place of mammals. In the plants of the Galapagos Islands, Dr.\nHooker has shown that the proportional numbers of the different\norders are very different from what they are elsewhere. Such cases are\ngenerally accounted for by the physical conditions of the islands;\nbut this explanation seems to me not a little doubtful. Facility of\nimmigration, I believe, has been at least as important as the nature of\nthe conditions.\n\nMany remarkable little facts could be given with respect to the\ninhabitants of remote islands. For instance, in certain islands not\ntenanted by mammals, some of the endemic plants have beautifully hooked\nseeds; yet few relations are more striking than the adaptation of hooked\nseeds for transportal by the wool and fur of quadrupeds. This\ncase presents no difficulty on my view, for a hooked seed might be\ntransported to an island by some other means; and the plant then\nbecoming slightly modified, but still retaining its hooked seeds,\nwould form an endemic species, having as useless an appendage as any\nrudimentary organ,--for instance, as the shrivelled wings under the\nsoldered elytra of many insular beetles. Again, islands often possess\ntrees or bushes belonging to orders which elsewhere include only\nherbaceous species; now trees, as Alph. de Candolle has shown, generally\nhave, whatever the cause may be, confined ranges. Hence trees would be\nlittle likely to reach distant oceanic islands; and an herbaceous plant,\nthough it would have no chance of successfully competing in stature\nwith a fully developed tree, when established on an island and having to\ncompete with herbaceous plants alone, might readily gain an advantage\nby growing taller and taller and overtopping the other plants. If so,\nnatural selection would often tend to add to the stature of herbaceous\nplants when growing on an island, to whatever order they belonged, and\nthus convert them first into bushes and ultimately into trees.\n\nWith respect to the absence of whole orders on oceanic islands, Bory St.\nVincent long ago remarked that Batrachians (frogs, toads, newts) have\nnever been found on any of the many islands with which the great oceans\nare studded. I have taken pains to verify this assertion, and I have\nfound it strictly true. I have, however, been assured that a frog exists\non the mountains of the great island of New Zealand; but I suspect that\nthis exception (if the information be correct) may be explained through\nglacial agency. This general absence of frogs, toads, and newts on\nso many oceanic islands cannot be accounted for by their physical\nconditions; indeed it seems that islands are peculiarly well fitted for\nthese animals; for frogs have been introduced into Madeira, the Azores,\nand Mauritius, and have multiplied so as to become a nuisance. But as\nthese animals and their spawn are known to be immediately killed by\nsea-water, on my view we can see that there would be great difficulty in\ntheir transportal across the sea, and therefore why they do not exist on\nany oceanic island. But why, on the theory of creation, they should not\nhave been created there, it would be very difficult to explain.\n\nMammals offer another and similar case. I have carefully searched the\noldest voyages, but have not finished my search; as yet I have not found\na single instance, free from doubt, of a terrestrial mammal (excluding\ndomesticated animals kept by the natives) inhabiting an island situated\nabove 300 miles from a continent or great continental island; and\nmany islands situated at a much less distance are equally barren. The\nFalkland Islands, which are inhabited by a wolf-like fox, come nearest\nto an exception; but this group cannot be considered as oceanic, as it\nlies on a bank connected with the mainland; moreover, icebergs formerly\nbrought boulders to its western shores, and they may have formerly\ntransported foxes, as so frequently now happens in the arctic regions.\nYet it cannot be said that small islands will not support small mammals,\nfor they occur in many parts of the world on very small islands, if\nclose to a continent; and hardly an island can be named on which our\nsmaller quadrupeds have not become naturalised and greatly multiplied.\nIt cannot be said, on the ordinary view of creation, that there has\nnot been time for the creation of mammals; many volcanic islands are\nsufficiently ancient, as shown by the stupendous degradation which they\nhave suffered and by their tertiary strata: there has also been time\nfor the production of endemic species belonging to other classes; and on\ncontinents it is thought that mammals appear and disappear at a quicker\nrate than other and lower animals. Though terrestrial mammals do not\noccur on oceanic islands, aerial mammals do occur on almost every\nisland. New Zealand possesses two bats found nowhere else in the world:\nNorfolk Island, the Viti Archipelago, the Bonin Islands, the Caroline\nand Marianne Archipelagoes, and Mauritius, all possess their peculiar\nbats. Why, it may be asked, has the supposed creative force produced\nbats and no other mammals on remote islands? On my view this question\ncan easily be answered; for no terrestrial mammal can be transported\nacross a wide space of sea, but bats can fly across. Bats have been seen\nwandering by day far over the Atlantic Ocean; and two North American\nspecies either regularly or occasionally visit Bermuda, at the distance\nof 600 miles from the mainland. I hear from Mr. Tomes, who has specially\nstudied this family, that many of the same species have enormous ranges,\nand are found on continents and on far distant islands. Hence we have\nonly to suppose that such wandering species have been modified through\nnatural selection in their new homes in relation to their new position,\nand we can understand the presence of endemic bats on islands, with the\nabsence of all terrestrial mammals.\n\nBesides the absence of terrestrial mammals in relation to the remoteness\nof islands from continents, there is also a relation, to a certain\nextent independent of distance, between the depth of the sea separating\nan island from the neighbouring mainland, and the presence in both of\nthe same mammiferous species or of allied species in a more or less\nmodified condition. Mr. Windsor Earl has made some striking observations\non this head in regard to the great Malay Archipelago, which is\ntraversed near Celebes by a space of deep ocean; and this space\nseparates two widely distinct mammalian faunas. On either side the\nislands are situated on moderately deep submarine banks, and they are\ninhabited by closely allied or identical quadrupeds. No doubt some few\nanomalies occur in this great archipelago, and there is much difficulty\nin forming a judgment in some cases owing to the probable naturalisation\nof certain mammals through man's agency; but we shall soon have much\nlight thrown on the natural history of this archipelago by the admirable\nzeal and researches of Mr. Wallace. I have not as yet had time to follow\nup this subject in all other quarters of the world; but as far as I have\ngone, the relation generally holds good. We see Britain separated by a\nshallow channel from Europe, and the mammals are the same on both\nsides; we meet with analogous facts on many islands separated by similar\nchannels from Australia. The West Indian Islands stand on a deeply\nsubmerged bank, nearly 1000 fathoms in depth, and here we find American\nforms, but the species and even the genera are distinct. As the amount\nof modification in all cases depends to a certain degree on the lapse\nof time, and as during changes of level it is obvious that islands\nseparated by shallow channels are more likely to have been continuously\nunited within a recent period to the mainland than islands separated\nby deeper channels, we can understand the frequent relation between the\ndepth of the sea and the degree of affinity of the mammalian inhabitants\nof islands with those of a neighbouring continent,--an inexplicable\nrelation on the view of independent acts of creation.\n\nAll the foregoing remarks on the inhabitants of oceanic\nislands,--namely, the scarcity of kinds--the richness in endemic forms\nin particular classes or sections of classes,--the absence of whole\ngroups, as of batrachians, and of terrestrial mammals notwithstanding\nthe presence of aerial bats,--the singular proportions of certain\norders of plants,--herbaceous forms having been developed into trees,\netc.,--seem to me to accord better with the view of occasional means of\ntransport having been largely efficient in the long course of time, than\nwith the view of all our oceanic islands having been formerly connected\nby continuous land with the nearest continent; for on this latter\nview the migration would probably have been more complete; and if\nmodification be admitted, all the forms of life would have been more\nequally modified, in accordance with the paramount importance of the\nrelation of organism to organism.\n\nI do not deny that there are many and grave difficulties in\nunderstanding how several of the inhabitants of the more remote islands,\nwhether still retaining the same specific form or modified since their\narrival, could have reached their present homes. But the probability of\nmany islands having existed as halting-places, of which not a wreck now\nremains, must not be overlooked. I will here give a single instance of\none of the cases of difficulty. Almost all oceanic islands, even the\nmost isolated and smallest, are inhabited by land-shells, generally by\nendemic species, but sometimes by species found elsewhere. Dr. Aug. A.\nGould has given several interesting cases in regard to the land-shells\nof the islands of the Pacific. Now it is notorious that land-shells are\nvery easily killed by salt; their eggs, at least such as I have tried,\nsink in sea-water and are killed by it. Yet there must be, on my view,\nsome unknown, but highly efficient means for their transportal. Would\nthe just-hatched young occasionally crawl on and adhere to the feet of\nbirds roosting on the ground, and thus get transported? It occurred to\nme that land-shells, when hybernating and having a membranous diaphragm\nover the mouth of the shell, might be floated in chinks of drifted\ntimber across moderately wide arms of the sea. And I found that several\nspecies did in this state withstand uninjured an immersion in sea-water\nduring seven days: one of these shells was the Helix pomatia, and after\nit had again hybernated I put it in sea-water for twenty days, and it\nperfectly recovered. As this species has a thick calcareous operculum,\nI removed it, and when it had formed a new membranous one, I immersed it\nfor fourteen days in sea-water, and it recovered and crawled away:\nbut more experiments are wanted on this head. The most striking and\nimportant fact for us in regard to the inhabitants of islands, is their\naffinity to those of the nearest mainland, without being actually the\nsame species. Numerous instances could be given of this fact. I will\ngive only one, that of the Galapagos Archipelago, situated under the\nequator, between 500 and 600 miles from the shores of South America.\nHere almost every product of the land and water bears the unmistakeable\nstamp of the American continent. There are twenty-six land birds,\nand twenty-five of these are ranked by Mr. Gould as distinct species,\nsupposed to have been created here; yet the close affinity of most of\nthese birds to American species in every character, in their habits,\ngestures, and tones of voice, was manifest. So it is with the other\nanimals, and with nearly all the plants, as shown by Dr. Hooker in\nhis admirable memoir on the Flora of this archipelago. The naturalist,\nlooking at the inhabitants of these volcanic islands in the Pacific,\ndistant several hundred miles from the continent, yet feels that he is\nstanding on American land. Why should this be so? why should the species\nwhich are supposed to have been created in the Galapagos Archipelago,\nand nowhere else, bear so plain a stamp of affinity to those created in\nAmerica? There is nothing in the conditions of life, in the geological\nnature of the islands, in their height or climate, or in the proportions\nin which the several classes are associated together, which resembles\nclosely the conditions of the South American coast: in fact there is\na considerable dissimilarity in all these respects. On the other hand,\nthere is a considerable degree of resemblance in the volcanic nature\nof the soil, in climate, height, and size of the islands, between\nthe Galapagos and Cape de Verde Archipelagos: but what an entire and\nabsolute difference in their inhabitants! The inhabitants of the Cape\nde Verde Islands are related to those of Africa, like those of the\nGalapagos to America. I believe this grand fact can receive no sort of\nexplanation on the ordinary view of independent creation; whereas on the\nview here maintained, it is obvious that the Galapagos Islands would be\nlikely to receive colonists, whether by occasional means of transport or\nby formerly continuous land, from America; and the Cape de Verde\nIslands from Africa; and that such colonists would be liable to\nmodification;--the principle of inheritance still betraying their\noriginal birthplace.\n\nMany analogous facts could be given: indeed it is an almost universal\nrule that the endemic productions of islands are related to those of the\nnearest continent, or of other near islands. The exceptions are few, and\nmost of them can be explained. Thus the plants of Kerguelen Land, though\nstanding nearer to Africa than to America, are related, and that very\nclosely, as we know from Dr. Hooker's account, to those of America: but\non the view that this island has been mainly stocked by seeds brought\nwith earth and stones on icebergs, drifted by the prevailing currents,\nthis anomaly disappears. New Zealand in its endemic plants is much more\nclosely related to Australia, the nearest mainland, than to any other\nregion: and this is what might have been expected; but it is also\nplainly related to South America, which, although the next nearest\ncontinent, is so enormously remote, that the fact becomes an anomaly.\nBut this difficulty almost disappears on the view that both New Zealand,\nSouth America, and other southern lands were long ago partially stocked\nfrom a nearly intermediate though distant point, namely from the\nantarctic islands, when they were clothed with vegetation, before the\ncommencement of the Glacial period. The affinity, which, though\nfeeble, I am assured by Dr. Hooker is real, between the flora of the\nsouth-western corner of Australia and of the Cape of Good Hope, is a far\nmore remarkable case, and is at present inexplicable: but this affinity\nis confined to the plants, and will, I do not doubt, be some day\nexplained.\n\nThe law which causes the inhabitants of an archipelago, though\nspecifically distinct, to be closely allied to those of the nearest\ncontinent, we sometimes see displayed on a small scale, yet in a most\ninteresting manner, within the limits of the same archipelago. Thus the\nseveral islands of the Galapagos Archipelago are tenanted, as I have\nelsewhere shown, in a quite marvellous manner, by very closely related\nspecies; so that the inhabitants of each separate island, though mostly\ndistinct, are related in an incomparably closer degree to each other\nthan to the inhabitants of any other part of the world. And this is just\nwhat might have been expected on my view, for the islands are situated\nso near each other that they would almost certainly receive\nimmigrants from the same original source, or from each other. But this\ndissimilarity between the endemic inhabitants of the islands may be\nused as an argument against my views; for it may be asked, how has it\nhappened in the several islands situated within sight of each other,\nhaving the same geological nature, the same height, climate, etc., that\nmany of the immigrants should have been differently modified, though\nonly in a small degree. This long appeared to me a great difficulty: but\nit arises in chief part from the deeply-seated error of considering\nthe physical conditions of a country as the most important for its\ninhabitants; whereas it cannot, I think, be disputed that the nature of\nthe other inhabitants, with which each has to compete, is at least as\nimportant, and generally a far more important element of success. Now\nif we look to those inhabitants of the Galapagos Archipelago which are\nfound in other parts of the world (laying on one side for the moment\nthe endemic species, which cannot be here fairly included, as we are\nconsidering how they have come to be modified since their arrival), we\nfind a considerable amount of difference in the several islands. This\ndifference might indeed have been expected on the view of the islands\nhaving been stocked by occasional means of transport--a seed, for\ninstance, of one plant having been brought to one island, and that of\nanother plant to another island. Hence when in former times an immigrant\nsettled on any one or more of the islands, or when it subsequently\nspread from one island to another, it would undoubtedly be exposed to\ndifferent conditions of life in the different islands, for it would\nhave to compete with different sets of organisms: a plant, for instance,\nwould find the best-fitted ground more perfectly occupied by distinct\nplants in one island than in another, and it would be exposed to the\nattacks of somewhat different enemies. If then it varied, natural\nselection would probably favour different varieties in the different\nislands. Some species, however, might spread and yet retain the same\ncharacter throughout the group, just as we see on continents some\nspecies spreading widely and remaining the same.\n\nThe really surprising fact in this case of the Galapagos Archipelago,\nand in a lesser degree in some analogous instances, is that the new\nspecies formed in the separate islands have not quickly spread to the\nother islands. But the islands, though in sight of each other, are\nseparated by deep arms of the sea, in most cases wider than the British\nChannel, and there is no reason to suppose that they have at any former\nperiod been continuously united. The currents of the sea are rapid and\nsweep across the archipelago, and gales of wind are extraordinarily\nrare; so that the islands are far more effectually separated from each\nother than they appear to be on a map. Nevertheless a good many species,\nboth those found in other parts of the world and those confined to the\narchipelago, are common to the several islands, and we may infer from\ncertain facts that these have probably spread from some one island\nto the others. But we often take, I think, an erroneous view of the\nprobability of closely allied species invading each other's territory,\nwhen put into free intercommunication. Undoubtedly if one species has\nany advantage whatever over another, it will in a very brief time wholly\nor in part supplant it; but if both are equally well fitted for their\nown places in nature, both probably will hold their own places and keep\nseparate for almost any length of time. Being familiar with the fact\nthat many species, naturalised through man's agency, have spread with\nastonishing rapidity over new countries, we are apt to infer that most\nspecies would thus spread; but we should remember that the forms which\nbecome naturalised in new countries are not generally closely allied to\nthe aboriginal inhabitants, but are very distinct species, belonging in\na large proportion of cases, as shown by Alph. de Candolle, to distinct\ngenera. In the Galapagos Archipelago, many even of the birds, though\nso well adapted for flying from island to island, are distinct on each;\nthus there are three closely-allied species of mocking-thrush, each\nconfined to its own island. Now let us suppose the mocking-thrush\nof Chatham Island to be blown to Charles Island, which has its own\nmocking-thrush: why should it succeed in establishing itself there?\nWe may safely infer that Charles Island is well stocked with its own\nspecies, for annually more eggs are laid there than can possibly be\nreared; and we may infer that the mocking-thrush peculiar to Charles\nIsland is at least as well fitted for its home as is the species\npeculiar to Chatham Island. Sir C. Lyell and Mr. Wollaston have\ncommunicated to me a remarkable fact bearing on this subject; namely,\nthat Madeira and the adjoining islet of Porto Santo possess many\ndistinct but representative land-shells, some of which live in\ncrevices of stone; and although large quantities of stone are annually\ntransported from Porto Santo to Madeira, yet this latter island has not\nbecome colonised by the Porto Santo species: nevertheless both islands\nhave been colonised by some European land-shells, which no doubt had\nsome advantage over the indigenous species. From these considerations\nI think we need not greatly marvel at the endemic and representative\nspecies, which inhabit the several islands of the Galapagos Archipelago,\nnot having universally spread from island to island. In many other\ninstances, as in the several districts of the same continent,\npre-occupation has probably played an important part in checking the\ncommingling of species under the same conditions of life. Thus, the\nsouth-east and south-west corners of Australia have nearly the same\nphysical conditions, and are united by continuous land, yet they are\ninhabited by a vast number of distinct mammals, birds, and plants.\n\nThe principle which determines the general character of the fauna\nand flora of oceanic islands, namely, that the inhabitants, when not\nidentically the same, yet are plainly related to the inhabitants of\nthat region whence colonists could most readily have been derived,--the\ncolonists having been subsequently modified and better fitted to their\nnew homes,--is of the widest application throughout nature. We see\nthis on every mountain, in every lake and marsh. For Alpine species,\nexcepting in so far as the same forms, chiefly of plants, have spread\nwidely throughout the world during the recent Glacial epoch, are related\nto those of the surrounding lowlands;--thus we have in South America,\nAlpine humming-birds, Alpine rodents, Alpine plants, etc., all of\nstrictly American forms, and it is obvious that a mountain, as it became\nslowly upheaved, would naturally be colonised from the surrounding\nlowlands. So it is with the inhabitants of lakes and marshes, excepting\nin so far as great facility of transport has given the same general\nforms to the whole world. We see this same principle in the blind\nanimals inhabiting the caves of America and of Europe. Other analogous\nfacts could be given. And it will, I believe, be universally found to\nbe true, that wherever in two regions, let them be ever so distant, many\nclosely allied or representative species occur, there will likewise be\nfound some identical species, showing, in accordance with the foregoing\nview, that at some former period there has been intercommunication or\nmigration between the two regions. And wherever many closely-allied\nspecies occur, there will be found many forms which some naturalists\nrank as distinct species, and some as varieties; these doubtful forms\nshowing us the steps in the process of modification.\n\nThis relation between the power and extent of migration of a species,\neither at the present time or at some former period under different\nphysical conditions, and the existence at remote points of the world of\nother species allied to it, is shown in another and more general way.\nMr. Gould remarked to me long ago, that in those genera of birds which\nrange over the world, many of the species have very wide ranges. I\ncan hardly doubt that this rule is generally true, though it would be\ndifficult to prove it. Amongst mammals, we see it strikingly displayed\nin Bats, and in a lesser degree in the Felidae and Canidae. We see it,\nif we compare the distribution of butterflies and beetles. So it is with\nmost fresh-water productions, in which so many genera range over the\nworld, and many individual species have enormous ranges. It is not meant\nthat in world-ranging genera all the species have a wide range, or even\nthat they have on an AVERAGE a wide range; but only that some of the\nspecies range very widely; for the facility with which widely-ranging\nspecies vary and give rise to new forms will largely determine their\naverage range. For instance, two varieties of the same species inhabit\nAmerica and Europe, and the species thus has an immense range; but, if\nthe variation had been a little greater, the two varieties would have\nbeen ranked as distinct species, and the common range would have been\ngreatly reduced. Still less is it meant, that a species which apparently\nhas the capacity of crossing barriers and ranging widely, as in the case\nof certain powerfully-winged birds, will necessarily range widely; for\nwe should never forget that to range widely implies not only the power\nof crossing barriers, but the more important power of being victorious\nin distant lands in the struggle for life with foreign associates. But\non the view of all the species of a genus having descended from a single\nparent, though now distributed to the most remote points of the world,\nwe ought to find, and I believe as a general rule we do find, that some\nat least of the species range very widely; for it is necessary that the\nunmodified parent should range widely, undergoing modification during\nits diffusion, and should place itself under diverse conditions\nfavourable for the conversion of its offspring, firstly into new\nvarieties and ultimately into new species.\n\nIn considering the wide distribution of certain genera, we should bear\nin mind that some are extremely ancient, and must have branched off from\na common parent at a remote epoch; so that in such cases there will\nhave been ample time for great climatal and geographical changes and for\naccidents of transport; and consequently for the migration of some of\nthe species into all quarters of the world, where they may have become\nslightly modified in relation to their new conditions. There is, also,\nsome reason to believe from geological evidence that organisms low in\nthe scale within each great class, generally change at a slower rate\nthan the higher forms; and consequently the lower forms will have had a\nbetter chance of ranging widely and of still retaining the same specific\ncharacter. This fact, together with the seeds and eggs of many low forms\nbeing very minute and better fitted for distant transportation, probably\naccounts for a law which has long been observed, and which has lately\nbeen admirably discussed by Alph. de Candolle in regard to plants,\nnamely, that the lower any group of organisms is, the more widely it is\napt to range.\n\nThe relations just discussed,--namely, low and slowly-changing\norganisms ranging more widely than the high,--some of the species of\nwidely-ranging genera themselves ranging widely,--such facts, as alpine,\nlacustrine, and marsh productions being related (with the exceptions\nbefore specified) to those on the surrounding low lands and dry lands,\nthough these stations are so different--the very close relation of the\ndistinct species which inhabit the islets of the same archipelago,--and\nespecially the striking relation of the inhabitants of each whole\narchipelago or island to those of the nearest mainland,--are, I think,\nutterly inexplicable on the ordinary view of the independent creation\nof each species, but are explicable on the view of colonisation from the\nnearest and readiest source, together with the subsequent modification\nand better adaptation of the colonists to their new homes.\n\nSUMMARY OF LAST AND PRESENT CHAPTERS.\n\nIn these chapters I have endeavoured to show, that if we make due\nallowance for our ignorance of the full effects of all the changes of\nclimate and of the level of the land, which have certainly occurred\nwithin the recent period, and of other similar changes which may have\noccurred within the same period; if we remember how profoundly ignorant\nwe are with respect to the many and curious means of occasional\ntransport,--a subject which has hardly ever been properly experimentised\non; if we bear in mind how often a species may have ranged continuously\nover a wide area, and then have become extinct in the intermediate\ntracts, I think the difficulties in believing that all the individuals\nof the same species, wherever located, have descended from the same\nparents, are not insuperable. And we are led to this conclusion, which\nhas been arrived at by many naturalists under the designation of single\ncentres of creation, by some general considerations, more especially\nfrom the importance of barriers and from the analogical distribution of\nsub-genera, genera, and families.\n\nWith respect to the distinct species of the same genus, which on my\ntheory must have spread from one parent-source; if we make the same\nallowances as before for our ignorance, and remember that some forms of\nlife change most slowly, enormous periods of time being thus granted for\ntheir migration, I do not think that the difficulties are insuperable;\nthough they often are in this case, and in that of the individuals of\nthe same species, extremely grave.\n\nAs exemplifying the effects of climatal changes on distribution, I have\nattempted to show how important has been the influence of the modern\nGlacial period, which I am fully convinced simultaneously affected\nthe whole world, or at least great meridional belts. As showing how\ndiversified are the means of occasional transport, I have discussed at\nsome little length the means of dispersal of fresh-water productions.\n\nIf the difficulties be not insuperable in admitting that in the long\ncourse of time the individuals of the same species, and likewise of\nallied species, have proceeded from some one source; then I think all\nthe grand leading facts of geographical distribution are explicable on\nthe theory of migration (generally of the more dominant forms of life),\ntogether with subsequent modification and the multiplication of new\nforms. We can thus understand the high importance of barriers, whether\nof land or water, which separate our several zoological and botanical\nprovinces. We can thus understand the localisation of sub-genera,\ngenera, and families; and how it is that under different latitudes, for\ninstance in South America, the inhabitants of the plains and mountains,\nof the forests, marshes, and deserts, are in so mysterious a manner\nlinked together by affinity, and are likewise linked to the extinct\nbeings which formerly inhabited the same continent. Bearing in mind\nthat the mutual relations of organism to organism are of the highest\nimportance, we can see why two areas having nearly the same physical\nconditions should often be inhabited by very different forms of\nlife; for according to the length of time which has elapsed since\nnew inhabitants entered one region; according to the nature of the\ncommunication which allowed certain forms and not others to enter,\neither in greater or lesser numbers; according or not, as those which\nentered happened to come in more or less direct competition with each\nother and with the aborigines; and according as the immigrants were\ncapable of varying more or less rapidly, there would ensue in different\nregions, independently of their physical conditions, infinitely\ndiversified conditions of life,--there would be an almost endless amount\nof organic action and reaction,--and we should find, as we do find,\nsome groups of beings greatly, and some only slightly modified,--some\ndeveloped in great force, some existing in scanty numbers--in the\ndifferent great geographical provinces of the world.\n\nOn these same principles, we can understand, as I have endeavoured to\nshow, why oceanic islands should have few inhabitants, but of these a\ngreat number should be endemic or peculiar; and why, in relation to the\nmeans of migration, one group of beings, even within the same class,\nshould have all its species endemic, and another group should have all\nits species common to other quarters of the world. We can see why whole\ngroups of organisms, as batrachians and terrestrial mammals, should be\nabsent from oceanic islands, whilst the most isolated islands possess\ntheir own peculiar species of aerial mammals or bats. We can see why\nthere should be some relation between the presence of mammals, in a more\nor less modified condition, and the depth of the sea between an island\nand the mainland. We can clearly see why all the inhabitants of an\narchipelago, though specifically distinct on the several islets, should\nbe closely related to each other, and likewise be related, but less\nclosely, to those of the nearest continent or other source whence\nimmigrants were probably derived. We can see why in two areas, however\ndistant from each other, there should be a correlation, in the presence\nof identical species, of varieties, of doubtful species, and of distinct\nbut representative species.\n\nAs the late Edward Forbes often insisted, there is a striking\nparallelism in the laws of life throughout time and space: the laws\ngoverning the succession of forms in past times being nearly the same\nwith those governing at the present time the differences in different\nareas. We see this in many facts. The endurance of each species and\ngroup of species is continuous in time; for the exceptions to the rule\nare so few, that they may fairly be attributed to our not having as\nyet discovered in an intermediate deposit the forms which are therein\nabsent, but which occur above and below: so in space, it certainly is\nthe general rule that the area inhabited by a single species, or by a\ngroup of species, is continuous; and the exceptions, which are not rare,\nmay, as I have attempted to show, be accounted for by migration at\nsome former period under different conditions or by occasional means of\ntransport, and by the species having become extinct in the intermediate\ntracts. Both in time and space, species and groups of species have their\npoints of maximum development. Groups of species, belonging either to a\ncertain period of time, or to a certain area, are often characterised by\ntrifling characters in common, as of sculpture or colour. In looking\nto the long succession of ages, as in now looking to distant provinces\nthroughout the world, we find that some organisms differ little, whilst\nothers belonging to a different class, or to a different order, or even\nonly to a different family of the same order, differ greatly. In both\ntime and space the lower members of each class generally change less\nthan the higher; but there are in both cases marked exceptions to the\nrule. On my theory these several relations throughout time and space\nare intelligible; for whether we look to the forms of life which have\nchanged during successive ages within the same quarter of the world, or\nto those which have changed after having migrated into distant quarters,\nin both cases the forms within each class have been connected by the\nsame bond of ordinary generation; and the more nearly any two forms are\nrelated in blood, the nearer they will generally stand to each other in\ntime and space; in both cases the laws of variation have been the same,\nand modifications have been accumulated by the same power of natural\nselection.\n\n\n\n\n13. MUTUAL AFFINITIES OF ORGANIC BEINGS: MORPHOLOGY:\nEMBRYOLOGY: RUDIMENTARY ORGANS.\n\nCLASSIFICATION, groups subordinate to groups. Natural system. Rules and\ndifficulties in classification, explained on the theory of descent\nwith modification. Classification of varieties. Descent always used in\nclassification. Analogical or adaptive characters. Affinities, general,\ncomplex and radiating. Extinction separates and defines groups.\nMORPHOLOGY, between members of the same class, between parts of the same\nindividual. EMBRYOLOGY, laws of, explained by variations not supervening\nat an early age, and being inherited at a corresponding age. RUDIMENTARY\nORGANS; their origin explained. Summary.\n\nFrom the first dawn of life, all organic beings are found to resemble\neach other in descending degrees, so that they can be classed in groups\nunder groups. This classification is evidently not arbitrary like the\ngrouping of the stars in constellations. The existence of groups would\nhave been of simple signification, if one group had been exclusively\nfitted to inhabit the land, and another the water; one to feed on flesh,\nanother on vegetable matter, and so on; but the case is widely different\nin nature; for it is notorious how commonly members of even the same\nsubgroup have different habits. In our second and fourth chapters, on\nVariation and on Natural Selection, I have attempted to show that it is\nthe widely ranging, the much diffused and common, that is the dominant\nspecies belonging to the larger genera, which vary most. The varieties,\nor incipient species, thus produced ultimately become converted, as I\nbelieve, into new and distinct species; and these, on the principle\nof inheritance, tend to produce other new and dominant species.\nConsequently the groups which are now large, and which generally include\nmany dominant species, tend to go on increasing indefinitely in size.\nI further attempted to show that from the varying descendants of each\nspecies trying to occupy as many and as different places as possible in\nthe economy of nature, there is a constant tendency in their characters\nto diverge. This conclusion was supported by looking at the great\ndiversity of the forms of life which, in any small area, come into the\nclosest competition, and by looking to certain facts in naturalisation.\n\nI attempted also to show that there is a constant tendency in the forms\nwhich are increasing in number and diverging in character, to supplant\nand exterminate the less divergent, the less improved, and preceding\nforms. I request the reader to turn to the diagram illustrating the\naction, as formerly explained, of these several principles; and he\nwill see that the inevitable result is that the modified descendants\nproceeding from one progenitor become broken up into groups subordinate\nto groups. In the diagram each letter on the uppermost line may\nrepresent a genus including several species; and all the genera on this\nline form together one class, for all have descended from one ancient\nbut unseen parent, and, consequently, have inherited something in\ncommon. But the three genera on the left hand have, on this same\nprinciple, much in common, and form a sub-family, distinct from that\nincluding the next two genera on the right hand, which diverged from a\ncommon parent at the fifth stage of descent. These five genera have also\nmuch, though less, in common; and they form a family distinct from\nthat including the three genera still further to the right hand, which\ndiverged at a still earlier period. And all these genera, descended from\n(A), form an order distinct from the genera descended from (I). So that\nwe here have many species descended from a single progenitor grouped\ninto genera; and the genera are included in, or subordinate to,\nsub-families, families, and orders, all united into one class. Thus, the\ngrand fact in natural history of the subordination of group under group,\nwhich, from its familiarity, does not always sufficiently strike us, is\nin my judgment fully explained.\n\nNaturalists try to arrange the species, genera, and families in each\nclass, on what is called the Natural System. But what is meant by\nthis system? Some authors look at it merely as a scheme for arranging\ntogether those living objects which are most alike, and for separating\nthose which are most unlike; or as an artificial means for enunciating,\nas briefly as possible, general propositions,--that is, by one sentence\nto give the characters common, for instance, to all mammals, by another\nthose common to all carnivora, by another those common to the dog-genus,\nand then by adding a single sentence, a full description is given\nof each kind of dog. The ingenuity and utility of this system are\nindisputable. But many naturalists think that something more is meant\nby the Natural System; they believe that it reveals the plan of the\nCreator; but unless it be specified whether order in time or space,\nor what else is meant by the plan of the Creator, it seems to me that\nnothing is thus added to our knowledge. Such expressions as that\nfamous one of Linnaeus, and which we often meet with in a more or less\nconcealed form, that the characters do not make the genus, but that\nthe genus gives the characters, seem to imply that something more is\nincluded in our classification, than mere resemblance. I believe that\nsomething more is included; and that propinquity of descent,--the only\nknown cause of the similarity of organic beings,--is the bond, hidden as\nit is by various degrees of modification, which is partially revealed to\nus by our classifications.\n\nLet us now consider the rules followed in classification, and the\ndifficulties which are encountered on the view that classification\neither gives some unknown plan of creation, or is simply a scheme for\nenunciating general propositions and of placing together the forms most\nlike each other. It might have been thought (and was in ancient times\nthought) that those parts of the structure which determined the habits\nof life, and the general place of each being in the economy of nature,\nwould be of very high importance in classification. Nothing can be more\nfalse. No one regards the external similarity of a mouse to a shrew, of\na dugong to a whale, of a whale to a fish, as of any importance. These\nresemblances, though so intimately connected with the whole life of the\nbeing, are ranked as merely \"adaptive or analogical characters;\" but to\nthe consideration of these resemblances we shall have to recur. It\nmay even be given as a general rule, that the less any part of the\norganisation is concerned with special habits, the more important it\nbecomes for classification. As an instance: Owen, in speaking of the\ndugong, says, \"The generative organs being those which are most remotely\nrelated to the habits and food of an animal, I have always regarded as\naffording very clear indications of its true affinities. We are least\nlikely in the modifications of these organs to mistake a merely adaptive\nfor an essential character.\" So with plants, how remarkable it is that\nthe organs of vegetation, on which their whole life depends, are of\nlittle signification, excepting in the first main divisions; whereas the\norgans of reproduction, with their product the seed, are of paramount\nimportance!\n\nWe must not, therefore, in classifying, trust to resemblances in parts\nof the organisation, however important they may be for the welfare of\nthe being in relation to the outer world. Perhaps from this cause it has\npartly arisen, that almost all naturalists lay the greatest stress on\nresemblances in organs of high vital or physiological importance. No\ndoubt this view of the classificatory importance of organs which\nare important is generally, but by no means always, true. But their\nimportance for classification, I believe, depends on their greater\nconstancy throughout large groups of species; and this constancy depends\non such organs having generally been subjected to less change in the\nadaptation of the species to their conditions of life. That the\nmere physiological importance of an organ does not determine its\nclassificatory value, is almost shown by the one fact, that in allied\ngroups, in which the same organ, as we have every reason to suppose, has\nnearly the same physiological value, its classificatory value is widely\ndifferent. No naturalist can have worked at any group without being\nstruck with this fact; and it has been most fully acknowledged in the\nwritings of almost every author. It will suffice to quote the highest\nauthority, Robert Brown, who in speaking of certain organs in the\nProteaceae, says their generic importance, \"like that of all their\nparts, not only in this but, as I apprehend, in every natural family,\nis very unequal, and in some cases seems to be entirely lost.\" Again in\nanother work he says, the genera of the Connaraceae \"differ in having\none or more ovaria, in the existence or absence of albumen, in the\nimbricate or valvular aestivation. Any one of these characters singly\nis frequently of more than generic importance, though here even when\nall taken together they appear insufficient to separate Cnestis from\nConnarus.\" To give an example amongst insects, in one great division\nof the Hymenoptera, the antennae, as Westwood has remarked, are most\nconstant in structure; in another division they differ much, and the\ndifferences are of quite subordinate value in classification; yet no one\nprobably will say that the antennae in these two divisions of the same\norder are of unequal physiological importance. Any number of instances\ncould be given of the varying importance for classification of the same\nimportant organ within the same group of beings.\n\nAgain, no one will say that rudimentary or atrophied organs are of high\nphysiological or vital importance; yet, undoubtedly, organs in this\ncondition are often of high value in classification. No one will dispute\nthat the rudimentary teeth in the upper jaws of young ruminants,\nand certain rudimentary bones of the leg, are highly serviceable in\nexhibiting the close affinity between Ruminants and Pachyderms. Robert\nBrown has strongly insisted on the fact that the rudimentary florets are\nof the highest importance in the classification of the Grasses.\n\nNumerous instances could be given of characters derived from parts which\nmust be considered of very trifling physiological importance, but which\nare universally admitted as highly serviceable in the definition of\nwhole groups. For instance, whether or not there is an open passage from\nthe nostrils to the mouth, the only character, according to Owen, which\nabsolutely distinguishes fishes and reptiles--the inflection of the\nangle of the jaws in Marsupials--the manner in which the wings of\ninsects are folded--mere colour in certain Algae--mere pubescence on\nparts of the flower in grasses--the nature of the dermal covering, as\nhair or feathers, in the Vertebrata. If the Ornithorhynchus had been\ncovered with feathers instead of hair, this external and trifling\ncharacter would, I think, have been considered by naturalists as\nimportant an aid in determining the degree of affinity of this strange\ncreature to birds and reptiles, as an approach in structure in any one\ninternal and important organ.\n\nThe importance, for classification, of trifling characters, mainly\ndepends on their being correlated with several other characters of more\nor less importance. The value indeed of an aggregate of characters is\nvery evident in natural history. Hence, as has often been remarked, a\nspecies may depart from its allies in several characters, both of high\nphysiological importance and of almost universal prevalence, and yet\nleave us in no doubt where it should be ranked. Hence, also, it has been\nfound, that a classification founded on any single character,\nhowever important that may be, has always failed; for no part of the\norganisation is universally constant. The importance of an aggregate of\ncharacters, even when none are important, alone explains, I think, that\nsaying of Linnaeus, that the characters do not give the genus, but\nthe genus gives the characters; for this saying seems founded on an\nappreciation of many trifling points of resemblance, too slight to be\ndefined. Certain plants, belonging to the Malpighiaceae, bear perfect\nand degraded flowers; in the latter, as A. de Jussieu has remarked, \"the\ngreater number of the characters proper to the species, to the genus,\nto the family, to the class, disappear, and thus laugh at our\nclassification.\" But when Aspicarpa produced in France, during several\nyears, only degraded flowers, departing so wonderfully in a number\nof the most important points of structure from the proper type of the\norder, yet M. Richard sagaciously saw, as Jussieu observes, that this\ngenus should still be retained amongst the Malpighiaceae. This case\nseems to me well to illustrate the spirit with which our classifications\nare sometimes necessarily founded.\n\nPractically when naturalists are at work, they do not trouble themselves\nabout the physiological value of the characters which they use in\ndefining a group, or in allocating any particular species. If they find\na character nearly uniform, and common to a great number of forms, and\nnot common to others, they use it as one of high value; if common to\nsome lesser number, they use it as of subordinate value. This principle\nhas been broadly confessed by some naturalists to be the true one; and\nby none more clearly than by that excellent botanist, Aug. St. Hilaire.\nIf certain characters are always found correlated with others, though\nno apparent bond of connexion can be discovered between them, especial\nvalue is set on them. As in most groups of animals, important organs,\nsuch as those for propelling the blood, or for aerating it, or those for\npropagating the race, are found nearly uniform, they are considered as\nhighly serviceable in classification; but in some groups of animals all\nthese, the most important vital organs, are found to offer characters of\nquite subordinate value.\n\nWe can see why characters derived from the embryo should be of equal\nimportance with those derived from the adult, for our classifications of\ncourse include all ages of each species. But it is by no means obvious,\non the ordinary view, why the structure of the embryo should be more\nimportant for this purpose than that of the adult, which alone plays its\nfull part in the economy of nature. Yet it has been strongly urged\nby those great naturalists, Milne Edwards and Agassiz, that embryonic\ncharacters are the most important of any in the classification of\nanimals; and this doctrine has very generally been admitted as true.\nThe same fact holds good with flowering plants, of which the two main\ndivisions have been founded on characters derived from the embryo,--on\nthe number and position of the embryonic leaves or cotyledons, and on\nthe mode of development of the plumule and radicle. In our discussion\non embryology, we shall see why such characters are so valuable, on the\nview of classification tacitly including the idea of descent.\n\nOur classifications are often plainly influenced by chains of\naffinities. Nothing can be easier than to define a number of characters\ncommon to all birds; but in the case of crustaceans, such definition has\nhitherto been found impossible. There are crustaceans at the opposite\nends of the series, which have hardly a character in common; yet the\nspecies at both ends, from being plainly allied to others, and these to\nothers, and so onwards, can be recognised as unequivocally belonging to\nthis, and to no other class of the Articulata.\n\nGeographical distribution has often been used, though perhaps not quite\nlogically, in classification, more especially in very large groups of\nclosely allied forms. Temminck insists on the utility or even necessity\nof this practice in certain groups of birds; and it has been followed by\nseveral entomologists and botanists.\n\nFinally, with respect to the comparative value of the various groups of\nspecies, such as orders, sub-orders, families, sub-families, and genera,\nthey seem to be, at least at present, almost arbitrary. Several of the\nbest botanists, such as Mr. Bentham and others, have strongly insisted\non their arbitrary value. Instances could be given amongst plants and\ninsects, of a group of forms, first ranked by practised naturalists as\nonly a genus, and then raised to the rank of a sub-family or family; and\nthis has been done, not because further research has detected important\nstructural differences, at first overlooked, but because numerous\nallied species, with slightly different grades of difference, have been\nsubsequently discovered.\n\nAll the foregoing rules and aids and difficulties in classification\nare explained, if I do not greatly deceive myself, on the view that\nthe natural system is founded on descent with modification; that the\ncharacters which naturalists consider as showing true affinity between\nany two or more species, are those which have been inherited from a\ncommon parent, and, in so far, all true classification is genealogical;\nthat community of descent is the hidden bond which naturalists have been\nunconsciously seeking, and not some unknown plan of creation, or the\nenunciation of general propositions, and the mere putting together and\nseparating objects more or less alike.\n\nBut I must explain my meaning more fully. I believe that the ARRANGEMENT\nof the groups within each class, in due subordination and relation to\nthe other groups, must be strictly genealogical in order to be natural;\nbut that the AMOUNT of difference in the several branches or groups,\nthough allied in the same degree in blood to their common progenitor,\nmay differ greatly, being due to the different degrees of modification\nwhich they have undergone; and this is expressed by the forms being\nranked under different genera, families, sections, or orders. The reader\nwill best understand what is meant, if he will take the trouble of\nreferring to the diagram in the fourth chapter. We will suppose the\nletters A to L to represent allied genera, which lived during the\nSilurian epoch, and these have descended from a species which existed at\nan unknown anterior period. Species of three of these genera (A, F, and\nI) have transmitted modified descendants to the present day, represented\nby the fifteen genera (a14 to z14) on the uppermost horizontal line. Now\nall these modified descendants from a single species, are represented as\nrelated in blood or descent to the same degree; they may metaphorically\nbe called cousins to the same millionth degree; yet they differ widely\nand in different degrees from each other. The forms descended from A,\nnow broken up into two or three families, constitute a distinct order\nfrom those descended from I, also broken up into two families. Nor can\nthe existing species, descended from A, be ranked in the same genus with\nthe parent A; or those from I, with the parent I. But the existing genus\nF14 may be supposed to have been but slightly modified; and it will\nthen rank with the parent-genus F; just as some few still living organic\nbeings belong to Silurian genera. So that the amount or value of the\ndifferences between organic beings all related to each other in the same\ndegree in blood, has come to be widely different. Nevertheless their\ngenealogical ARRANGEMENT remains strictly true, not only at the present\ntime, but at each successive period of descent. All the modified\ndescendants from A will have inherited something in common from their\ncommon parent, as will all the descendants from I; so will it be with\neach subordinate branch of descendants, at each successive period. If,\nhowever, we choose to suppose that any of the descendants of A or of\nI have been so much modified as to have more or less completely lost\ntraces of their parentage, in this case, their places in a natural\nclassification will have been more or less completely lost,--as\nsometimes seems to have occurred with existing organisms. All the\ndescendants of the genus F, along its whole line of descent, are\nsupposed to have been but little modified, and they yet form a single\ngenus. But this genus, though much isolated, will still occupy its\nproper intermediate position; for F originally was intermediate in\ncharacter between A and I, and the several genera descended from these\ntwo genera will have inherited to a certain extent their characters.\nThis natural arrangement is shown, as far as is possible on paper, in\nthe diagram, but in much too simple a manner. If a branching diagram had\nnot been used, and only the names of the groups had been written in a\nlinear series, it would have been still less possible to have given a\nnatural arrangement; and it is notoriously not possible to represent in\na series, on a flat surface, the affinities which we discover in nature\namongst the beings of the same group. Thus, on the view which I hold,\nthe natural system is genealogical in its arrangement, like a pedigree;\nbut the degrees of modification which the different groups have\nundergone, have to be expressed by ranking them under different\nso-called genera, sub-families, families, sections, orders, and classes.\n\nIt may be worth while to illustrate this view of classification, by\ntaking the case of languages. If we possessed a perfect pedigree of\nmankind, a genealogical arrangement of the races of man would afford the\nbest classification of the various languages now spoken throughout the\nworld; and if all extinct languages, and all intermediate and slowly\nchanging dialects, had to be included, such an arrangement would, I\nthink, be the only possible one. Yet it might be that some very ancient\nlanguage had altered little, and had given rise to few new languages,\nwhilst others (owing to the spreading and subsequent isolation and\nstates of civilisation of the several races, descended from a common\nrace) had altered much, and had given rise to many new languages and\ndialects. The various degrees of difference in the languages from the\nsame stock, would have to be expressed by groups subordinate to\ngroups; but the proper or even only possible arrangement would still be\ngenealogical; and this would be strictly natural, as it would connect\ntogether all languages, extinct and modern, by the closest affinities,\nand would give the filiation and origin of each tongue.\n\nIn confirmation of this view, let us glance at the classification\nof varieties, which are believed or known to have descended from one\nspecies. These are grouped under species, with sub-varieties under\nvarieties; and with our domestic productions, several other grades of\ndifference are requisite, as we have seen with pigeons. The origin\nof the existence of groups subordinate to groups, is the same with\nvarieties as with species, namely, closeness of descent with various\ndegrees of modification. Nearly the same rules are followed in\nclassifying varieties, as with species. Authors have insisted on the\nnecessity of classing varieties on a natural instead of an artificial\nsystem; we are cautioned, for instance, not to class two varieties of\nthe pine-apple together, merely because their fruit, though the most\nimportant part, happens to be nearly identical; no one puts the swedish\nand common turnips together, though the esculent and thickened stems\nare so similar. Whatever part is found to be most constant, is used in\nclassing varieties: thus the great agriculturist Marshall says the horns\nare very useful for this purpose with cattle, because they are less\nvariable than the shape or colour of the body, etc.; whereas with sheep\nthe horns are much less serviceable, because less constant. In classing\nvarieties, I apprehend if we had a real pedigree, a genealogical\nclassification would be universally preferred; and it has been attempted\nby some authors. For we might feel sure, whether there had been more\nor less modification, the principle of inheritance would keep the forms\ntogether which were allied in the greatest number of points. In tumbler\npigeons, though some sub-varieties differ from the others in the\nimportant character of having a longer beak, yet all are kept together\nfrom having the common habit of tumbling; but the short-faced breed has\nnearly or quite lost this habit; nevertheless, without any reasoning\nor thinking on the subject, these tumblers are kept in the same group,\nbecause allied in blood and alike in some other respects. If it could be\nproved that the Hottentot had descended from the Negro, I think he would\nbe classed under the Negro group, however much he might differ in colour\nand other important characters from negroes.\n\nWith species in a state of nature, every naturalist has in fact brought\ndescent into his classification; for he includes in his lowest grade,\nor that of a species, the two sexes; and how enormously these sometimes\ndiffer in the most important characters, is known to every naturalist:\nscarcely a single fact can be predicated in common of the males and\nhermaphrodites of certain cirripedes, when adult, and yet no one dreams\nof separating them. The naturalist includes as one species the several\nlarval stages of the same individual, however much they may differ from\neach other and from the adult; as he likewise includes the so-called\nalternate generations of Steenstrup, which can only in a technical sense\nbe considered as the same individual. He includes monsters; he includes\nvarieties, not solely because they closely resemble the parent-form, but\nbecause they are descended from it. He who believes that the cowslip\nis descended from the primrose, or conversely, ranks them together as\na single species, and gives a single definition. As soon as three\nOrchidean forms (Monochanthus, Myanthus, and Catasetum), which had\npreviously been ranked as three distinct genera, were known to be\nsometimes produced on the same spike, they were immediately included as\na single species. But it may be asked, what ought we to do, if it could\nbe proved that one species of kangaroo had been produced, by a long\ncourse of modification, from a bear? Ought we to rank this one\nspecies with bears, and what should we do with the other species?\nThe supposition is of course preposterous; and I might answer by the\nargumentum ad hominem, and ask what should be done if a perfect kangaroo\nwere seen to come out of the womb of a bear? According to all analogy,\nit would be ranked with bears; but then assuredly all the other species\nof the kangaroo family would have to be classed under the bear genus.\nThe whole case is preposterous; for where there has been close descent\nin common, there will certainly be close resemblance or affinity.\n\nAs descent has universally been used in classing together the\nindividuals of the same species, though the males and females and larvae\nare sometimes extremely different; and as it has been used in classing\nvarieties which have undergone a certain, and sometimes a considerable\namount of modification, may not this same element of descent have been\nunconsciously used in grouping species under genera, and genera under\nhigher groups, though in these cases the modification has been greater\nin degree, and has taken a longer time to complete? I believe it has\nthus been unconsciously used; and only thus can I understand the several\nrules and guides which have been followed by our best systematists. We\nhave no written pedigrees; we have to make out community of descent by\nresemblances of any kind. Therefore we choose those characters which,\nas far as we can judge, are the least likely to have been modified\nin relation to the conditions of life to which each species has been\nrecently exposed. Rudimentary structures on this view are as good as, or\neven sometimes better than, other parts of the organisation. We care not\nhow trifling a character may be--let it be the mere inflection of\nthe angle of the jaw, the manner in which an insect's wing is folded,\nwhether the skin be covered by hair or feathers--if it prevail\nthroughout many and different species, especially those having very\ndifferent habits of life, it assumes high value; for we can account for\nits presence in so many forms with such different habits, only by its\ninheritance from a common parent. We may err in this respect in regard\nto single points of structure, but when several characters, let them\nbe ever so trifling, occur together throughout a large group of beings\nhaving different habits, we may feel almost sure, on the theory of\ndescent, that these characters have been inherited from a common\nancestor. And we know that such correlated or aggregated characters have\nespecial value in classification.\n\nWe can understand why a species or a group of species may depart, in\nseveral of its most important characteristics, from its allies, and yet\nbe safely classed with them. This may be safely done, and is often\ndone, as long as a sufficient number of characters, let them be ever so\nunimportant, betrays the hidden bond of community of descent. Let two\nforms have not a single character in common, yet if these extreme forms\nare connected together by a chain of intermediate groups, we may at\nonce infer their community of descent, and we put them all into the same\nclass. As we find organs of high physiological importance--those\nwhich serve to preserve life under the most diverse conditions of\nexistence--are generally the most constant, we attach especial value to\nthem; but if these same organs, in another group or section of a\ngroup, are found to differ much, we at once value them less in\nour classification. We shall hereafter, I think, clearly see why\nembryological characters are of such high classificatory importance.\nGeographical distribution may sometimes be brought usefully into play in\nclassing large and widely-distributed genera, because all the species of\nthe same genus, inhabiting any distinct and isolated region, have in all\nprobability descended from the same parents.\n\nWe can understand, on these views, the very important distinction\nbetween real affinities and analogical or adaptive resemblances.\nLamarck first called attention to this distinction, and he has been ably\nfollowed by Macleay and others. The resemblance, in the shape of the\nbody and in the fin-like anterior limbs, between the dugong, which is a\npachydermatous animal, and the whale, and between both these mammals and\nfishes, is analogical. Amongst insects there are innumerable instances:\nthus Linnaeus, misled by external appearances, actually classed an\nhomopterous insect as a moth. We see something of the same kind even\nin our domestic varieties, as in the thickened stems of the common and\nswedish turnip. The resemblance of the greyhound and racehorse is hardly\nmore fanciful than the analogies which have been drawn by some authors\nbetween very distinct animals. On my view of characters being of real\nimportance for classification, only in so far as they reveal descent, we\ncan clearly understand why analogical or adaptive character, although of\nthe utmost importance to the welfare of the being, are almost valueless\nto the systematist. For animals, belonging to two most distinct lines\nof descent, may readily become adapted to similar conditions, and thus\nassume a close external resemblance; but such resemblances will not\nreveal--will rather tend to conceal their blood-relationship to their\nproper lines of descent. We can also understand the apparent paradox,\nthat the very same characters are analogical when one class or order is\ncompared with another, but give true affinities when the members of the\nsame class or order are compared one with another: thus the shape of\nthe body and fin-like limbs are only analogical when whales are compared\nwith fishes, being adaptations in both classes for swimming through the\nwater; but the shape of the body and fin-like limbs serve as characters\nexhibiting true affinity between the several members of the whale\nfamily; for these cetaceans agree in so many characters, great and\nsmall, that we cannot doubt that they have inherited their general shape\nof body and structure of limbs from a common ancestor. So it is with\nfishes.\n\nAs members of distinct classes have often been adapted by successive\nslight modifications to live under nearly similar circumstances,--to\ninhabit for instance the three elements of land, air, and water,--we can\nperhaps understand how it is that a numerical parallelism has sometimes\nbeen observed between the sub-groups in distinct classes. A naturalist,\nstruck by a parallelism of this nature in any one class, by arbitrarily\nraising or sinking the value of the groups in other classes (and all our\nexperience shows that this valuation has hitherto been arbitrary), could\neasily extend the parallelism over a wide range; and thus the septenary,\nquinary, quaternary, and ternary classifications have probably arisen.\n\nAs the modified descendants of dominant species, belonging to the larger\ngenera, tend to inherit the advantages, which made the groups to which\nthey belong large and their parents dominant, they are almost sure to\nspread widely, and to seize on more and more places in the economy\nof nature. The larger and more dominant groups thus tend to go on\nincreasing in size; and they consequently supplant many smaller and\nfeebler groups. Thus we can account for the fact that all organisms,\nrecent and extinct, are included under a few great orders, under still\nfewer classes, and all in one great natural system. As showing how\nfew the higher groups are in number, and how widely spread they are\nthroughout the world, the fact is striking, that the discovery of\nAustralia has not added a single insect belonging to a new order; and\nthat in the vegetable kingdom, as I learn from Dr. Hooker, it has added\nonly two or three orders of small size.\n\nIn the chapter on geological succession I attempted to show, on the\nprinciple of each group having generally diverged much in character\nduring the long-continued process of modification, how it is that the\nmore ancient forms of life often present characters in some slight\ndegree intermediate between existing groups. A few old and intermediate\nparent-forms having occasionally transmitted to the present day\ndescendants but little modified, will give to us our so-called osculant\nor aberrant groups. The more aberrant any form is, the greater must be\nthe number of connecting forms which on my theory have been exterminated\nand utterly lost. And we have some evidence of aberrant forms having\nsuffered severely from extinction, for they are generally represented by\nextremely few species; and such species as do occur are generally very\ndistinct from each other, which again implies extinction. The genera\nOrnithorhynchus and Lepidosiren, for example, would not have been less\naberrant had each been represented by a dozen species instead of by\na single one; but such richness in species, as I find after some\ninvestigation, does not commonly fall to the lot of aberrant genera. We\ncan, I think, account for this fact only by looking at aberrant forms\nas failing groups conquered by more successful competitors, with a\nfew members preserved by some unusual coincidence of favourable\ncircumstances.\n\nMr. Waterhouse has remarked that, when a member belonging to one group\nof animals exhibits an affinity to a quite distinct group, this affinity\nin most cases is general and not special: thus, according to Mr.\nWaterhouse, of all Rodents, the bizcacha is most nearly related to\nMarsupials; but in the points in which it approaches this order, its\nrelations are general, and not to any one marsupial species more than\nto another. As the points of affinity of the bizcacha to Marsupials are\nbelieved to be real and not merely adaptive, they are due on my theory\nto inheritance in common. Therefore we must suppose either that all\nRodents, including the bizcacha, branched off from some very ancient\nMarsupial, which will have had a character in some degree intermediate\nwith respect to all existing Marsupials; or that both Rodents and\nMarsupials branched off from a common progenitor, and that both groups\nhave since undergone much modification in divergent directions.\nOn either view we may suppose that the bizcacha has retained, by\ninheritance, more of the character of its ancient progenitor than have\nother Rodents; and therefore it will not be specially related to any one\nexisting Marsupial, but indirectly to all or nearly all Marsupials, from\nhaving partially retained the character of their common progenitor, or\nof an early member of the group. On the other hand, of all Marsupials,\nas Mr. Waterhouse has remarked, the phascolomys resembles most nearly,\nnot any one species, but the general order of Rodents. In this case,\nhowever, it may be strongly suspected that the resemblance is only\nanalogical, owing to the phascolomys having become adapted to habits\nlike those of a Rodent. The elder De Candolle has made nearly similar\nobservations on the general nature of the affinities of distinct orders\nof plants.\n\nOn the principle of the multiplication and gradual divergence in\ncharacter of the species descended from a common parent, together with\ntheir retention by inheritance of some characters in common, we can\nunderstand the excessively complex and radiating affinities by which all\nthe members of the same family or higher group are connected together.\nFor the common parent of a whole family of species, now broken up by\nextinction into distinct groups and sub-groups, will have transmitted\nsome of its characters, modified in various ways and degrees, to all;\nand the several species will consequently be related to each other by\ncircuitous lines of affinity of various lengths (as may be seen in the\ndiagram so often referred to), mounting up through many predecessors.\nAs it is difficult to show the blood-relationship between the\nnumerous kindred of any ancient and noble family, even by the aid of a\ngenealogical tree, and almost impossible to do this without this aid,\nwe can understand the extraordinary difficulty which naturalists have\nexperienced in describing, without the aid of a diagram, the various\naffinities which they perceive between the many living and extinct\nmembers of the same great natural class.\n\nExtinction, as we have seen in the fourth chapter, has played an\nimportant part in defining and widening the intervals between the\nseveral groups in each class. We may thus account even for the\ndistinctness of whole classes from each other--for instance, of birds\nfrom all other vertebrate animals--by the belief that many ancient forms\nof life have been utterly lost, through which the early progenitors of\nbirds were formerly connected with the early progenitors of the other\nvertebrate classes. There has been less entire extinction of the forms\nof life which once connected fishes with batrachians. There has been\nstill less in some other classes, as in that of the Crustacea, for here\nthe most wonderfully diverse forms are still tied together by a long,\nbut broken, chain of affinities. Extinction has only separated groups:\nit has by no means made them; for if every form which has ever lived\non this earth were suddenly to reappear, though it would be\nquite impossible to give definitions by which each group could be\ndistinguished from other groups, as all would blend together by steps\nas fine as those between the finest existing varieties, nevertheless\na natural classification, or at least a natural arrangement, would be\npossible. We shall see this by turning to the diagram: the letters, A\nto L, may represent eleven Silurian genera, some of which have produced\nlarge groups of modified descendants. Every intermediate link between\nthese eleven genera and their primordial parent, and every intermediate\nlink in each branch and sub-branch of their descendants, may be supposed\nto be still alive; and the links to be as fine as those between the\nfinest varieties. In this case it would be quite impossible to give any\ndefinition by which the several members of the several groups could be\ndistinguished from their more immediate parents; or these parents from\ntheir ancient and unknown progenitor. Yet the natural arrangement in the\ndiagram would still hold good; and, on the principle of inheritance, all\nthe forms descended from A, or from I, would have something in common.\nIn a tree we can specify this or that branch, though at the actual fork\nthe two unite and blend together. We could not, as I have said, define\nthe several groups; but we could pick out types, or forms, representing\nmost of the characters of each group, whether large or small, and thus\ngive a general idea of the value of the differences between them. This\nis what we should be driven to, if we were ever to succeed in collecting\nall the forms in any class which have lived throughout all time\nand space. We shall certainly never succeed in making so perfect a\ncollection: nevertheless, in certain classes, we are tending in this\ndirection; and Milne Edwards has lately insisted, in an able paper, on\nthe high importance of looking to types, whether or not we can separate\nand define the groups to which such types belong.\n\nFinally, we have seen that natural selection, which results from the\nstruggle for existence, and which almost inevitably induces extinction\nand divergence of character in the many descendants from one dominant\nparent-species, explains that great and universal feature in the\naffinities of all organic beings, namely, their subordination in group\nunder group. We use the element of descent in classing the individuals\nof both sexes and of all ages, although having few characters in common,\nunder one species; we use descent in classing acknowledged varieties,\nhowever different they may be from their parent; and I believe this\nelement of descent is the hidden bond of connexion which naturalists\nhave sought under the term of the Natural System. On this idea of the\nnatural system being, in so far as it has been perfected, genealogical\nin its arrangement, with the grades of difference between the\ndescendants from a common parent, expressed by the terms genera,\nfamilies, orders, etc., we can understand the rules which we are\ncompelled to follow in our classification. We can understand why we\nvalue certain resemblances far more than others; why we are permitted to\nuse rudimentary and useless organs, or others of trifling physiological\nimportance; why, in comparing one group with a distinct group, we\nsummarily reject analogical or adaptive characters, and yet use these\nsame characters within the limits of the same group. We can clearly see\nhow it is that all living and extinct forms can be grouped together\nin one great system; and how the several members of each class\nare connected together by the most complex and radiating lines of\naffinities. We shall never, probably, disentangle the inextricable web\nof affinities between the members of any one class; but when we have\na distinct object in view, and do not look to some unknown plan of\ncreation, we may hope to make sure but slow progress.\n\nMORPHOLOGY.\n\nWe have seen that the members of the same class, independently of\ntheir habits of life, resemble each other in the general plan of their\norganisation. This resemblance is often expressed by the term \"unity of\ntype;\" or by saying that the several parts and organs in the different\nspecies of the class are homologous. The whole subject is included under\nthe general name of Morphology. This is the most interesting department\nof natural history, and may be said to be its very soul. What can be\nmore curious than that the hand of a man, formed for grasping, that of a\nmole for digging, the leg of the horse, the paddle of the porpoise, and\nthe wing of the bat, should all be constructed on the same pattern, and\nshould include the same bones, in the same relative positions? Geoffroy\nSt. Hilaire has insisted strongly on the high importance of relative\nconnexion in homologous organs: the parts may change to almost any\nextent in form and size, and yet they always remain connected together\nin the same order. We never find, for instance, the bones of the arm and\nforearm, or of the thigh and leg, transposed. Hence the same names can\nbe given to the homologous bones in widely different animals. We see the\nsame great law in the construction of the mouths of insects: what can\nbe more different than the immensely long spiral proboscis of a\nsphinx-moth, the curious folded one of a bee or bug, and the great jaws\nof a beetle?--yet all these organs, serving for such different purposes,\nare formed by infinitely numerous modifications of an upper lip,\nmandibles, and two pairs of maxillae. Analogous laws govern the\nconstruction of the mouths and limbs of crustaceans. So it is with the\nflowers of plants.\n\nNothing can be more hopeless than to attempt to explain this similarity\nof pattern in members of the same class, by utility or by the doctrine\nof final causes. The hopelessness of the attempt has been expressly\nadmitted by Owen in his most interesting work on the 'Nature of Limbs.'\nOn the ordinary view of the independent creation of each being, we can\nonly say that so it is;--that it has so pleased the Creator to construct\neach animal and plant.\n\nThe explanation is manifest on the theory of the natural selection of\nsuccessive slight modifications,--each modification being profitable\nin some way to the modified form, but often affecting by correlation of\ngrowth other parts of the organisation. In changes of this nature, there\nwill be little or no tendency to modify the original pattern, or to\ntranspose parts. The bones of a limb might be shortened and widened to\nany extent, and become gradually enveloped in thick membrane, so as to\nserve as a fin; or a webbed foot might have all its bones, or certain\nbones, lengthened to any extent, and the membrane connecting them\nincreased to any extent, so as to serve as a wing: yet in all this great\namount of modification there will be no tendency to alter the framework\nof bones or the relative connexion of the several parts. If we suppose\nthat the ancient progenitor, the archetype as it may be called, of all\nmammals, had its limbs constructed on the existing general pattern,\nfor whatever purpose they served, we can at once perceive the plain\nsignification of the homologous construction of the limbs throughout the\nwhole class. So with the mouths of insects, we have only to suppose that\ntheir common progenitor had an upper lip, mandibles, and two pair\nof maxillae, these parts being perhaps very simple in form; and then\nnatural selection will account for the infinite diversity in structure\nand function of the mouths of insects. Nevertheless, it is conceivable\nthat the general pattern of an organ might become so much obscured as to\nbe finally lost, by the atrophy and ultimately by the complete abortion\nof certain parts, by the soldering together of other parts, and by the\ndoubling or multiplication of others,--variations which we know to be\nwithin the limits of possibility. In the paddles of the extinct gigantic\nsea-lizards, and in the mouths of certain suctorial crustaceans, the\ngeneral pattern seems to have been thus to a certain extent obscured.\n\nThere is another and equally curious branch of the present subject;\nnamely, the comparison not of the same part in different members of a\nclass, but of the different parts or organs in the same individual.\nMost physiologists believe that the bones of the skull are homologous\nwith--that is correspond in number and in relative connexion with--the\nelemental parts of a certain number of vertebrae. The anterior and\nposterior limbs in each member of the vertebrate and articulate classes\nare plainly homologous. We see the same law in comparing the wonderfully\ncomplex jaws and legs in crustaceans. It is familiar to almost every\none, that in a flower the relative position of the sepals, petals,\nstamens, and pistils, as well as their intimate structure, are\nintelligible on the view that they consist of metamorphosed leaves,\narranged in a spire. In monstrous plants, we often get direct evidence\nof the possibility of one organ being transformed into another; and we\ncan actually see in embryonic crustaceans and in many other animals, and\nin flowers, that organs, which when mature become extremely different,\nare at an early stage of growth exactly alike.\n\nHow inexplicable are these facts on the ordinary view of creation! Why\nshould the brain be enclosed in a box composed of such numerous and such\nextraordinarily shaped pieces of bone? As Owen has remarked, the\nbenefit derived from the yielding of the separate pieces in the act of\nparturition of mammals, will by no means explain the same construction\nin the skulls of birds. Why should similar bones have been created in\nthe formation of the wing and leg of a bat, used as they are for such\ntotally different purposes? Why should one crustacean, which has an\nextremely complex mouth formed of many parts, consequently always have\nfewer legs; or conversely, those with many legs have simpler mouths?\nWhy should the sepals, petals, stamens, and pistils in any individual\nflower, though fitted for such widely different purposes, be all\nconstructed on the same pattern?\n\nOn the theory of natural selection, we can satisfactorily answer these\nquestions. In the vertebrata, we see a series of internal vertebrae\nbearing certain processes and appendages; in the articulata, we see the\nbody divided into a series of segments, bearing external appendages;\nand in flowering plants, we see a series of successive spiral whorls of\nleaves. An indefinite repetition of the same part or organ is the common\ncharacteristic (as Owen has observed) of all low or little-modified\nforms; therefore we may readily believe that the unknown progenitor of\nthe vertebrata possessed many vertebrae; the unknown progenitor of\nthe articulata, many segments; and the unknown progenitor of flowering\nplants, many spiral whorls of leaves. We have formerly seen that\nparts many times repeated are eminently liable to vary in number and\nstructure; consequently it is quite probable that natural selection,\nduring a long-continued course of modification, should have seized on\na certain number of the primordially similar elements, many times\nrepeated, and have adapted them to the most diverse purposes. And as\nthe whole amount of modification will have been effected by slight\nsuccessive steps, we need not wonder at discovering in such parts or\norgans, a certain degree of fundamental resemblance, retained by the\nstrong principle of inheritance.\n\nIn the great class of molluscs, though we can homologise the parts of\none species with those of another and distinct species, we can indicate\nbut few serial homologies; that is, we are seldom enabled to say that\none part or organ is homologous with another in the same individual. And\nwe can understand this fact; for in molluscs, even in the lowest members\nof the class, we do not find nearly so much indefinite repetition of\nany one part, as we find in the other great classes of the animal and\nvegetable kingdoms.\n\nNaturalists frequently speak of the skull as formed of metamorphosed\nvertebrae: the jaws of crabs as metamorphosed legs; the stamens and\npistils of flowers as metamorphosed leaves; but it would in these cases\nprobably be more correct, as Professor Huxley has remarked, to speak\nof both skull and vertebrae, both jaws and legs, etc.,--as having been\nmetamorphosed, not one from the other, but from some common element.\nNaturalists, however, use such language only in a metaphorical sense:\nthey are far from meaning that during a long course of descent,\nprimordial organs of any kind--vertebrae in the one case and legs in the\nother--have actually been modified into skulls or jaws. Yet so strong\nis the appearance of a modification of this nature having occurred,\nthat naturalists can hardly avoid employing language having this plain\nsignification. On my view these terms may be used literally; and the\nwonderful fact of the jaws, for instance, of a crab retaining numerous\ncharacters, which they would probably have retained through inheritance,\nif they had really been metamorphosed during a long course of descent\nfrom true legs, or from some simple appendage, is explained.\n\nEMBRYOLOGY.\n\nIt has already been casually remarked that certain organs in the\nindividual, which when mature become widely different and serve for\ndifferent purposes, are in the embryo exactly alike. The embryos, also,\nof distinct animals within the same class are often strikingly similar:\na better proof of this cannot be given, than a circumstance mentioned\nby Agassiz, namely, that having forgotten to ticket the embryo of some\nvertebrate animal, he cannot now tell whether it be that of a mammal,\nbird, or reptile. The vermiform larvae of moths, flies, beetles, etc.,\nresemble each other much more closely than do the mature insects; but\nin the case of larvae, the embryos are active, and have been adapted\nfor special lines of life. A trace of the law of embryonic resemblance,\nsometimes lasts till a rather late age: thus birds of the same genus,\nand of closely allied genera, often resemble each other in their first\nand second plumage; as we see in the spotted feathers in the thrush\ngroup. In the cat tribe, most of the species are striped or spotted\nin lines; and stripes can be plainly distinguished in the whelp of\nthe lion. We occasionally though rarely see something of this kind in\nplants: thus the embryonic leaves of the ulex or furze, and the first\nleaves of the phyllodineous acaceas, are pinnate or divided like the\nordinary leaves of the leguminosae.\n\nThe points of structure, in which the embryos of widely different\nanimals of the same class resemble each other, often have no direct\nrelation to their conditions of existence. We cannot, for instance,\nsuppose that in the embryos of the vertebrata the peculiar loop-like\ncourse of the arteries near the branchial slits are related to similar\nconditions,--in the young mammal which is nourished in the womb of its\nmother, in the egg of the bird which is hatched in a nest, and in the\nspawn of a frog under water. We have no more reason to believe in such\na relation, than we have to believe that the same bones in the hand of\na man, wing of a bat, and fin of a porpoise, are related to similar\nconditions of life. No one will suppose that the stripes on the whelp\nof a lion, or the spots on the young blackbird, are of any use to these\nanimals, or are related to the conditions to which they are exposed.\n\nThe case, however, is different when an animal during any part of its\nembryonic career is active, and has to provide for itself. The period of\nactivity may come on earlier or later in life; but whenever it comes on,\nthe adaptation of the larva to its conditions of life is just as perfect\nand as beautiful as in the adult animal. From such special adaptations,\nthe similarity of the larvae or active embryos of allied animals is\nsometimes much obscured; and cases could be given of the larvae of two\nspecies, or of two groups of species, differing quite as much, or\neven more, from each other than do their adult parents. In most cases,\nhowever, the larvae, though active, still obey more or less closely the\nlaw of common embryonic resemblance. Cirripedes afford a good instance\nof this: even the illustrious Cuvier did not perceive that a barnacle\nwas, as it certainly is, a crustacean; but a glance at the larva shows\nthis to be the case in an unmistakeable manner. So again the two main\ndivisions of cirripedes, the pedunculated and sessile, which differ\nwidely in external appearance, have larvae in all their several stages\nbarely distinguishable.\n\nThe embryo in the course of development generally rises in organisation:\nI use this expression, though I am aware that it is hardly possible to\ndefine clearly what is meant by the organisation being higher or lower.\nBut no one probably will dispute that the butterfly is higher than the\ncaterpillar. In some cases, however, the mature animal is generally\nconsidered as lower in the scale than the larva, as with certain\nparasitic crustaceans. To refer once again to cirripedes: the larvae in\nthe first stage have three pairs of legs, a very simple single eye, and\na probosciformed mouth, with which they feed largely, for they increase\nmuch in size. In the second stage, answering to the chrysalis stage of\nbutterflies, they have six pairs of beautifully constructed natatory\nlegs, a pair of magnificent compound eyes, and extremely complex\nantennae; but they have a closed and imperfect mouth, and cannot feed:\ntheir function at this stage is, to search by their well-developed\norgans of sense, and to reach by their active powers of swimming, a\nproper place on which to become attached and to undergo their final\nmetamorphosis. When this is completed they are fixed for life: their\nlegs are now converted into prehensile organs; they again obtain a\nwell-constructed mouth; but they have no antennae, and their two eyes\nare now reconverted into a minute, single, and very simple eye-spot.\nIn this last and complete state, cirripedes may be considered as\neither more highly or more lowly organised than they were in the larval\ncondition. But in some genera the larvae become developed either into\nhermaphrodites having the ordinary structure, or into what I have called\ncomplemental males: and in the latter, the development has assuredly\nbeen retrograde; for the male is a mere sack, which lives for a short\ntime, and is destitute of mouth, stomach, or other organ of importance,\nexcepting for reproduction.\n\nWe are so much accustomed to see differences in structure between the\nembryo and the adult, and likewise a close similarity in the embryos of\nwidely different animals within the same class, that we might be led to\nlook at these facts as necessarily contingent in some manner on growth.\nBut there is no obvious reason why, for instance, the wing of a bat, or\nthe fin of a porpoise, should not have been sketched out with all the\nparts in proper proportion, as soon as any structure became visible in\nthe embryo. And in some whole groups of animals and in certain members\nof other groups, the embryo does not at any period differ widely from\nthe adult: thus Owen has remarked in regard to cuttle-fish, \"there is no\nmetamorphosis; the cephalopodic character is manifested long before\nthe parts of the embryo are completed;\" and again in spiders, \"there\nis nothing worthy to be called a metamorphosis.\" The larvae of insects,\nwhether adapted to the most diverse and active habits, or quite\ninactive, being fed by their parents or placed in the midst of proper\nnutriment, yet nearly all pass through a similar worm-like stage of\ndevelopment; but in some few cases, as in that of Aphis, if we look to\nthe admirable drawings by Professor Huxley of the development of this\ninsect, we see no trace of the vermiform stage.\n\nHow, then, can we explain these several facts in embryology,--namely\nthe very general, but not universal difference in structure between the\nembryo and the adult;--of parts in the same individual embryo, which\nultimately become very unlike and serve for diverse purposes, being\nat this early period of growth alike;--of embryos of different species\nwithin the same class, generally, but not universally, resembling each\nother;--of the structure of the embryo not being closely related to its\nconditions of existence, except when the embryo becomes at any period\nof life active and has to provide for itself;--of the embryo apparently\nhaving sometimes a higher organisation than the mature animal, into\nwhich it is developed. I believe that all these facts can be explained,\nas follows, on the view of descent with modification.\n\nIt is commonly assumed, perhaps from monstrosities often affecting the\nembryo at a very early period, that slight variations necessarily\nappear at an equally early period. But we have little evidence on\nthis head--indeed the evidence rather points the other way; for it is\nnotorious that breeders of cattle, horses, and various fancy animals,\ncannot positively tell, until some time after the animal has been born,\nwhat its merits or form will ultimately turn out. We see this plainly in\nour own children; we cannot always tell whether the child will be tall\nor short, or what its precise features will be. The question is not, at\nwhat period of life any variation has been caused, but at what period\nit is fully displayed. The cause may have acted, and I believe generally\nhas acted, even before the embryo is formed; and the variation may be\ndue to the male and female sexual elements having been affected by\nthe conditions to which either parent, or their ancestors, have been\nexposed. Nevertheless an effect thus caused at a very early period, even\nbefore the formation of the embryo, may appear late in life; as when\nan hereditary disease, which appears in old age alone, has been\ncommunicated to the offspring from the reproductive element of one\nparent. Or again, as when the horns of cross-bred cattle have been\naffected by the shape of the horns of either parent. For the welfare of\na very young animal, as long as it remains in its mother's womb, or in\nthe egg, or as long as it is nourished and protected by its parent,\nit must be quite unimportant whether most of its characters are fully\nacquired a little earlier or later in life. It would not signify, for\ninstance, to a bird which obtained its food best by having a long beak,\nwhether or not it assumed a beak of this particular length, as long as\nit was fed by its parents. Hence, I conclude, that it is quite possible,\nthat each of the many successive modifications, by which each species\nhas acquired its present structure, may have supervened at a not very\nearly period of life; and some direct evidence from our domestic animals\nsupports this view. But in other cases it is quite possible that each\nsuccessive modification, or most of them, may have appeared at an\nextremely early period.\n\nI have stated in the first chapter, that there is some evidence to\nrender it probable, that at whatever age any variation first appears\nin the parent, it tends to reappear at a corresponding age in the\noffspring. Certain variations can only appear at corresponding ages, for\ninstance, peculiarities in the caterpillar, cocoon, or imago states of\nthe silk-moth; or, again, in the horns of almost full-grown cattle. But\nfurther than this, variations which, for all that we can see, might have\nappeared earlier or later in life, tend to appear at a corresponding\nage in the offspring and parent. I am far from meaning that this is\ninvariably the case; and I could give a good many cases of variations\n(taking the word in the largest sense) which have supervened at an\nearlier age in the child than in the parent.\n\nThese two principles, if their truth be admitted, will, I believe,\nexplain all the above specified leading facts in embryology. But first\nlet us look at a few analogous cases in domestic varieties. Some authors\nwho have written on Dogs, maintain that the greyhound and bulldog,\nthough appearing so different, are really varieties most closely allied,\nand have probably descended from the same wild stock; hence I was\ncurious to see how far their puppies differed from each other: I was\ntold by breeders that they differed just as much as their parents, and\nthis, judging by the eye, seemed almost to be the case; but on actually\nmeasuring the old dogs and their six-days old puppies, I found that\nthe puppies had not nearly acquired their full amount of proportional\ndifference. So, again, I was told that the foals of cart and race-horses\ndiffered as much as the full-grown animals; and this surprised me\ngreatly, as I think it probable that the difference between these two\nbreeds has been wholly caused by selection under domestication; but\nhaving had careful measurements made of the dam and of a three-days old\ncolt of a race and heavy cart-horse, I find that the colts have by no\nmeans acquired their full amount of proportional difference.\n\nAs the evidence appears to me conclusive, that the several domestic\nbreeds of Pigeon have descended from one wild species, I compared young\npigeons of various breeds, within twelve hours after being hatched; I\ncarefully measured the proportions (but will not here give details) of\nthe beak, width of mouth, length of nostril and of eyelid, size of\nfeet and length of leg, in the wild stock, in pouters, fantails, runts,\nbarbs, dragons, carriers, and tumblers. Now some of these birds, when\nmature, differ so extraordinarily in length and form of beak, that\nthey would, I cannot doubt, be ranked in distinct genera, had they been\nnatural productions. But when the nestling birds of these several breeds\nwere placed in a row, though most of them could be distinguished from\neach other, yet their proportional differences in the above specified\nseveral points were incomparably less than in the full-grown birds. Some\ncharacteristic points of difference--for instance, that of the width\nof mouth--could hardly be detected in the young. But there was one\nremarkable exception to this rule, for the young of the short-faced\ntumbler differed from the young of the wild rock-pigeon and of the other\nbreeds, in all its proportions, almost exactly as much as in the adult\nstate.\n\nThe two principles above given seem to me to explain these facts in\nregard to the later embryonic stages of our domestic varieties. Fanciers\nselect their horses, dogs, and pigeons, for breeding, when they are\nnearly grown up: they are indifferent whether the desired qualities\nand structures have been acquired earlier or later in life, if the\nfull-grown animal possesses them. And the cases just given, more\nespecially that of pigeons, seem to show that the characteristic\ndifferences which give value to each breed, and which have been\naccumulated by man's selection, have not generally first appeared at\nan early period of life, and have been inherited by the offspring at a\ncorresponding not early period. But the case of the short-faced tumbler,\nwhich when twelve hours old had acquired its proper proportions,\nproves that this is not the universal rule; for here the characteristic\ndifferences must either have appeared at an earlier period than usual,\nor, if not so, the differences must have been inherited, not at the\ncorresponding, but at an earlier age.\n\nNow let us apply these facts and the above two principles--which latter,\nthough not proved true, can be shown to be in some degree probable--to\nspecies in a state of nature. Let us take a genus of birds, descended\non my theory from some one parent-species, and of which the several new\nspecies have become modified through natural selection in accordance\nwith their diverse habits. Then, from the many slight successive steps\nof variation having supervened at a rather late age, and having been\ninherited at a corresponding age, the young of the new species of our\nsupposed genus will manifestly tend to resemble each other much more\nclosely than do the adults, just as we have seen in the case of\npigeons. We may extend this view to whole families or even classes. The\nfore-limbs, for instance, which served as legs in the parent-species,\nmay become, by a long course of modification, adapted in one descendant\nto act as hands, in another as paddles, in another as wings; and on the\nabove two principles--namely of each successive modification supervening\nat a rather late age, and being inherited at a corresponding late\nage--the fore-limbs in the embryos of the several descendants of the\nparent-species will still resemble each other closely, for they will not\nhave been modified. But in each individual new species, the embryonic\nfore-limbs will differ greatly from the fore-limbs in the mature animal;\nthe limbs in the latter having undergone much modification at a rather\nlate period of life, and having thus been converted into hands, or\npaddles, or wings. Whatever influence long-continued exercise or use on\nthe one hand, and disuse on the other, may have in modifying an organ,\nsuch influence will mainly affect the mature animal, which has come\nto its full powers of activity and has to gain its own living; and the\neffects thus produced will be inherited at a corresponding mature age.\nWhereas the young will remain unmodified, or be modified in a lesser\ndegree, by the effects of use and disuse.\n\nIn certain cases the successive steps of variation might supervene, from\ncauses of which we are wholly ignorant, at a very early period of life,\nor each step might be inherited at an earlier period than that at which\nit first appeared. In either case (as with the short-faced tumbler) the\nyoung or embryo would closely resemble the mature parent-form. We have\nseen that this is the rule of development in certain whole groups of\nanimals, as with cuttle-fish and spiders, and with a few members of the\ngreat class of insects, as with Aphis. With respect to the final cause\nof the young in these cases not undergoing any metamorphosis, or closely\nresembling their parents from their earliest age, we can see that this\nwould result from the two following contingencies; firstly, from the\nyoung, during a course of modification carried on for many generations,\nhaving to provide for their own wants at a very early stage of\ndevelopment, and secondly, from their following exactly the same habits\nof life with their parents; for in this case, it would be indispensable\nfor the existence of the species, that the child should be modified at\na very early age in the same manner with its parents, in accordance with\ntheir similar habits. Some further explanation, however, of the embryo\nnot undergoing any metamorphosis is perhaps requisite. If, on the other\nhand, it profited the young to follow habits of life in any degree\ndifferent from those of their parent, and consequently to be constructed\nin a slightly different manner, then, on the principle of inheritance at\ncorresponding ages, the active young or larvae might easily be rendered\nby natural selection different to any conceivable extent from their\nparents. Such differences might, also, become correlated with successive\nstages of development; so that the larvae, in the first stage, might\ndiffer greatly from the larvae in the second stage, as we have seen to\nbe the case with cirripedes. The adult might become fitted for sites or\nhabits, in which organs of locomotion or of the senses, etc., would be\nuseless; and in this case the final metamorphosis would be said to be\nretrograde.\n\nAs all the organic beings, extinct and recent, which have ever lived on\nthis earth have to be classed together, and as all have been connected\nby the finest gradations, the best, or indeed, if our collections were\nnearly perfect, the only possible arrangement, would be genealogical.\nDescent being on my view the hidden bond of connexion which naturalists\nhave been seeking under the term of the natural system. On this view\nwe can understand how it is that, in the eyes of most naturalists, the\nstructure of the embryo is even more important for classification than\nthat of the adult. For the embryo is the animal in its less modified\nstate; and in so far it reveals the structure of its progenitor. In\ntwo groups of animal, however much they may at present differ from each\nother in structure and habits, if they pass through the same or similar\nembryonic stages, we may feel assured that they have both descended from\nthe same or nearly similar parents, and are therefore in that degree\nclosely related. Thus, community in embryonic structure reveals\ncommunity of descent. It will reveal this community of descent, however\nmuch the structure of the adult may have been modified and obscured; we\nhave seen, for instance, that cirripedes can at once be recognised by\ntheir larvae as belonging to the great class of crustaceans. As the\nembryonic state of each species and group of species partially shows us\nthe structure of their less modified ancient progenitors, we can clearly\nsee why ancient and extinct forms of life should resemble the embryos of\ntheir descendants,--our existing species. Agassiz believes this to be a\nlaw of nature; but I am bound to confess that I only hope to see the\nlaw hereafter proved true. It can be proved true in those cases alone in\nwhich the ancient state, now supposed to be represented in many embryos,\nhas not been obliterated, either by the successive variations in a long\ncourse of modification having supervened at a very early age, or by the\nvariations having been inherited at an earlier period than that at which\nthey first appeared. It should also be borne in mind, that the supposed\nlaw of resemblance of ancient forms of life to the embryonic stages of\nrecent forms, may be true, but yet, owing to the geological record not\nextending far enough back in time, may remain for a long period, or for\never, incapable of demonstration.\n\nThus, as it seems to me, the leading facts in embryology, which are\nsecond in importance to none in natural history, are explained on the\nprinciple of slight modifications not appearing, in the many descendants\nfrom some one ancient progenitor, at a very early period in the life of\neach, though perhaps caused at the earliest, and being inherited at a\ncorresponding not early period. Embryology rises greatly in interest,\nwhen we thus look at the embryo as a picture, more or less obscured, of\nthe common parent-form of each great class of animals.\n\nRUDIMENTARY, ATROPHIED, OR ABORTED ORGANS.\n\nOrgans or parts in this strange condition, bearing the stamp of\ninutility, are extremely common throughout nature. For instance,\nrudimentary mammae are very general in the males of mammals: I presume\nthat the \"bastard-wing\" in birds may be safely considered as a digit\nin a rudimentary state: in very many snakes one lobe of the lungs is\nrudimentary; in other snakes there are rudiments of the pelvis and hind\nlimbs. Some of the cases of rudimentary organs are extremely curious;\nfor instance, the presence of teeth in foetal whales, which when grown\nup have not a tooth in their heads; and the presence of teeth, which\nnever cut through the gums, in the upper jaws of our unborn calves. It\nhas even been stated on good authority that rudiments of teeth can be\ndetected in the beaks of certain embryonic birds. Nothing can be plainer\nthan that wings are formed for flight, yet in how many insects do we see\nwings so reduced in size as to be utterly incapable of flight, and not\nrarely lying under wing-cases, firmly soldered together!\n\nThe meaning of rudimentary organs is often quite unmistakeable: for\ninstance there are beetles of the same genus (and even of the same\nspecies) resembling each other most closely in all respects, one\nof which will have full-sized wings, and another mere rudiments of\nmembrane; and here it is impossible to doubt, that the rudiments\nrepresent wings. Rudimentary organs sometimes retain their potentiality,\nand are merely not developed: this seems to be the case with the mammae\nof male mammals, for many instances are on record of these organs having\nbecome well developed in full-grown males, and having secreted milk. So\nagain there are normally four developed and two rudimentary teats in\nthe udders of the genus Bos, but in our domestic cows the two sometimes\nbecome developed and give milk. In individual plants of the same\nspecies the petals sometimes occur as mere rudiments, and sometimes in\na well-developed state. In plants with separated sexes, the male flowers\noften have a rudiment of a pistil; and Kolreuter found that by crossing\nsuch male plants with an hermaphrodite species, the rudiment of the\npistil in the hybrid offspring was much increased in size; and this\nshows that the rudiment and the perfect pistil are essentially alike in\nnature.\n\nAn organ serving for two purposes, may become rudimentary or utterly\naborted for one, even the more important purpose; and remain perfectly\nefficient for the other. Thus in plants, the office of the pistil is to\nallow the pollen-tubes to reach the ovules protected in the ovarium at\nits base. The pistil consists of a stigma supported on the style; but in\nsome Compositae, the male florets, which of course cannot be fecundated,\nhave a pistil, which is in a rudimentary state, for it is not crowned\nwith a stigma; but the style remains well developed, and is clothed with\nhairs as in other compositae, for the purpose of brushing the pollen out\nof the surrounding anthers. Again, an organ may become rudimentary for\nits proper purpose, and be used for a distinct object: in certain fish\nthe swim-bladder seems to be rudimentary for its proper function of\ngiving buoyancy, but has become converted into a nascent breathing organ\nor lung. Other similar instances could be given.\n\nRudimentary organs in the individuals of the same species are very\nliable to vary in degree of development and in other respects. Moreover,\nin closely allied species, the degree to which the same organ has been\nrendered rudimentary occasionally differs much. This latter fact is well\nexemplified in the state of the wings of the female moths in certain\ngroups. Rudimentary organs may be utterly aborted; and this implies,\nthat we find in an animal or plant no trace of an organ, which analogy\nwould lead us to expect to find, and which is occasionally found\nin monstrous individuals of the species. Thus in the snapdragon\n(antirrhinum) we generally do not find a rudiment of a fifth stamen; but\nthis may sometimes be seen. In tracing the homologies of the same\npart in different members of a class, nothing is more common, or more\nnecessary, than the use and discovery of rudiments. This is well shown\nin the drawings given by Owen of the bones of the leg of the horse, ox,\nand rhinoceros.\n\nIt is an important fact that rudimentary organs, such as teeth in the\nupper jaws of whales and ruminants, can often be detected in the embryo,\nbut afterwards wholly disappear. It is also, I believe, a universal\nrule, that a rudimentary part or organ is of greater size relatively to\nthe adjoining parts in the embryo, than in the adult; so that the organ\nat this early age is less rudimentary, or even cannot be said to be in\nany degree rudimentary. Hence, also, a rudimentary organ in the adult,\nis often said to have retained its embryonic condition.\n\nI have now given the leading facts with respect to rudimentary organs.\nIn reflecting on them, every one must be struck with astonishment: for\nthe same reasoning power which tells us plainly that most parts and\norgans are exquisitely adapted for certain purposes, tells us with equal\nplainness that these rudimentary or atrophied organs, are imperfect and\nuseless. In works on natural history rudimentary organs are generally\nsaid to have been created \"for the sake of symmetry,\" or in order \"to\ncomplete the scheme of nature;\" but this seems to me no explanation,\nmerely a restatement of the fact. Would it be thought sufficient to\nsay that because planets revolve in elliptic courses round the sun,\nsatellites follow the same course round the planets, for the sake of\nsymmetry, and to complete the scheme of nature? An eminent physiologist\naccounts for the presence of rudimentary organs, by supposing that they\nserve to excrete matter in excess, or injurious to the system; but can\nwe suppose that the minute papilla, which often represents the pistil\nin male flowers, and which is formed merely of cellular tissue, can thus\nact? Can we suppose that the formation of rudimentary teeth which are\nsubsequently absorbed, can be of any service to the rapidly growing\nembryonic calf by the excretion of precious phosphate of lime? When a\nman's fingers have been amputated, imperfect nails sometimes appear on\nthe stumps: I could as soon believe that these vestiges of nails have\nappeared, not from unknown laws of growth, but in order to excrete horny\nmatter, as that the rudimentary nails on the fin of the manatee were\nformed for this purpose.\n\nOn my view of descent with modification, the origin of rudimentary\norgans is simple. We have plenty of cases of rudimentary organs in our\ndomestic productions,--as the stump of a tail in tailless breeds,--the\nvestige of an ear in earless breeds,--the reappearance of minute\ndangling horns in hornless breeds of cattle, more especially, according\nto Youatt, in young animals,--and the state of the whole flower in the\ncauliflower. We often see rudiments of various parts in monsters. But\nI doubt whether any of these cases throw light on the origin of\nrudimentary organs in a state of nature, further than by showing that\nrudiments can be produced; for I doubt whether species under nature ever\nundergo abrupt changes. I believe that disuse has been the main agency;\nthat it has led in successive generations to the gradual reduction of\nvarious organs, until they have become rudimentary,--as in the case of\nthe eyes of animals inhabiting dark caverns, and of the wings of birds\ninhabiting oceanic islands, which have seldom been forced to take\nflight, and have ultimately lost the power of flying. Again, an organ\nuseful under certain conditions, might become injurious under others,\nas with the wings of beetles living on small and exposed islands; and in\nthis case natural selection would continue slowly to reduce the organ,\nuntil it was rendered harmless and rudimentary.\n\nAny change in function, which can be effected by insensibly small steps,\nis within the power of natural selection; so that an organ rendered,\nduring changed habits of life, useless or injurious for one purpose,\nmight easily be modified and used for another purpose. Or an organ\nmight be retained for one alone of its former functions. An organ, when\nrendered useless, may well be variable, for its variations cannot be\nchecked by natural selection. At whatever period of life disuse or\nselection reduces an organ, and this will generally be when the being\nhas come to maturity and to its full powers of action, the principle\nof inheritance at corresponding ages will reproduce the organ in its\nreduced state at the same age, and consequently will seldom affect or\nreduce it in the embryo. Thus we can understand the greater relative\nsize of rudimentary organs in the embryo, and their lesser relative size\nin the adult. But if each step of the process of reduction were to\nbe inherited, not at the corresponding age, but at an extremely early\nperiod of life (as we have good reason to believe to be possible) the\nrudimentary part would tend to be wholly lost, and we should have a case\nof complete abortion. The principle, also, of economy, explained in a\nformer chapter, by which the materials forming any part or structure, if\nnot useful to the possessor, will be saved as far as is possible, will\nprobably often come into play; and this will tend to cause the entire\nobliteration of a rudimentary organ.\n\nAs the presence of rudimentary organs is thus due to the tendency\nin every part of the organisation, which has long existed, to\nbe inherited--we can understand, on the genealogical view of\nclassification, how it is that systematists have found rudimentary\nparts as useful as, or even sometimes more useful than, parts of high\nphysiological importance. Rudimentary organs may be compared with the\nletters in a word, still retained in the spelling, but become useless\nin the pronunciation, but which serve as a clue in seeking for its\nderivation. On the view of descent with modification, we may conclude\nthat the existence of organs in a rudimentary, imperfect, and useless\ncondition, or quite aborted, far from presenting a strange difficulty,\nas they assuredly do on the ordinary doctrine of creation, might\neven have been anticipated, and can be accounted for by the laws of\ninheritance.\n\nSUMMARY.\n\nIn this chapter I have attempted to show, that the subordination of\ngroup to group in all organisms throughout all time; that the nature of\nthe relationship, by which all living and extinct beings are united by\ncomplex, radiating, and circuitous lines of affinities into one\ngrand system; the rules followed and the difficulties encountered by\nnaturalists in their classifications; the value set upon characters, if\nconstant and prevalent, whether of high vital importance, or of the most\ntrifling importance, or, as in rudimentary organs, of no importance; the\nwide opposition in value between analogical or adaptive characters, and\ncharacters of true affinity; and other such rules;--all naturally follow\non the view of the common parentage of those forms which are considered\nby naturalists as allied, together with their modification through\nnatural selection, with its contingencies of extinction and divergence\nof character. In considering this view of classification, it should be\nborne in mind that the element of descent has been universally used in\nranking together the sexes, ages, and acknowledged varieties of the same\nspecies, however different they may be in structure. If we extend the\nuse of this element of descent,--the only certainly known cause of\nsimilarity in organic beings,--we shall understand what is meant by the\nnatural system: it is genealogical in its attempted arrangement,\nwith the grades of acquired difference marked by the terms varieties,\nspecies, genera, families, orders, and classes.\n\nOn this same view of descent with modification, all the great facts in\nMorphology become intelligible,--whether we look to the same pattern\ndisplayed in the homologous organs, to whatever purpose applied, of the\ndifferent species of a class; or to the homologous parts constructed on\nthe same pattern in each individual animal and plant.\n\nOn the principle of successive slight variations, not necessarily\nor generally supervening at a very early period of life, and being\ninherited at a corresponding period, we can understand the great leading\nfacts in Embryology; namely, the resemblance in an individual embryo of\nthe homologous parts, which when matured will become widely different\nfrom each other in structure and function; and the resemblance in\ndifferent species of a class of the homologous parts or organs, though\nfitted in the adult members for purposes as different as possible.\nLarvae are active embryos, which have become specially modified in\nrelation to their habits of life, through the principle of modifications\nbeing inherited at corresponding ages. On this same principle--and\nbearing in mind, that when organs are reduced in size, either from\ndisuse or selection, it will generally be at that period of life when\nthe being has to provide for its own wants, and bearing in mind how\nstrong is the principle of inheritance--the occurrence of rudimentary\norgans and their final abortion, present to us no inexplicable\ndifficulties; on the contrary, their presence might have been even\nanticipated. The importance of embryological characters and of\nrudimentary organs in classification is intelligible, on the view that\nan arrangement is only so far natural as it is genealogical.\n\nFinally, the several classes of facts which have been considered in\nthis chapter, seem to me to proclaim so plainly, that the innumerable\nspecies, genera, and families of organic beings, with which this world\nis peopled, have all descended, each within its own class or group, from\ncommon parents, and have all been modified in the course of descent,\nthat I should without hesitation adopt this view, even if it were\nunsupported by other facts or arguments.\n\n\n\n\n14. RECAPITULATION AND CONCLUSION.\n\nRecapitulation of the difficulties on the theory of Natural Selection.\nRecapitulation of the general and special circumstances in its favour.\nCauses of the general belief in the immutability of species. How far the\ntheory of natural selection may be extended. Effects of its adoption on\nthe study of Natural history. Concluding remarks.\n\nAs this whole volume is one long argument, it may be convenient to the\nreader to have the leading facts and inferences briefly recapitulated.\n\nThat many and grave objections may be advanced against the theory of\ndescent with modification through natural selection, I do not deny. I\nhave endeavoured to give to them their full force. Nothing at first can\nappear more difficult to believe than that the more complex organs and\ninstincts should have been perfected, not by means superior to, though\nanalogous with, human reason, but by the accumulation of innumerable\nslight variations, each good for the individual possessor. Nevertheless,\nthis difficulty, though appearing to our imagination insuperably great,\ncannot be considered real if we admit the following propositions,\nnamely,--that gradations in the perfection of any organ or instinct,\nwhich we may consider, either do now exist or could have existed, each\ngood of its kind,--that all organs and instincts are, in ever so slight\na degree, variable,--and, lastly, that there is a struggle for existence\nleading to the preservation of each profitable deviation of structure or\ninstinct. The truth of these propositions cannot, I think, be disputed.\n\nIt is, no doubt, extremely difficult even to conjecture by what\ngradations many structures have been perfected, more especially amongst\nbroken and failing groups of organic beings; but we see so many strange\ngradations in nature, as is proclaimed by the canon, \"Natura non facit\nsaltum,\" that we ought to be extremely cautious in saying that any organ\nor instinct, or any whole being, could not have arrived at its present\nstate by many graduated steps. There are, it must be admitted, cases of\nspecial difficulty on the theory of natural selection; and one of the\nmost curious of these is the existence of two or three defined castes\nof workers or sterile females in the same community of ants; but I have\nattempted to show how this difficulty can be mastered.\n\nWith respect to the almost universal sterility of species when first\ncrossed, which forms so remarkable a contrast with the almost universal\nfertility of varieties when crossed, I must refer the reader to the\nrecapitulation of the facts given at the end of the eighth chapter,\nwhich seem to me conclusively to show that this sterility is no more\na special endowment than is the incapacity of two trees to be grafted\ntogether, but that it is incidental on constitutional differences in the\nreproductive systems of the intercrossed species. We see the truth of\nthis conclusion in the vast difference in the result, when the same two\nspecies are crossed reciprocally; that is, when one species is first\nused as the father and then as the mother.\n\nThe fertility of varieties when intercrossed and of their mongrel\noffspring cannot be considered as universal; nor is their very general\nfertility surprising when we remember that it is not likely that either\ntheir constitutions or their reproductive systems should have been\nprofoundly modified. Moreover, most of the varieties which have been\nexperimentised on have been produced under domestication; and as\ndomestication apparently tends to eliminate sterility, we ought not to\nexpect it also to produce sterility.\n\nThe sterility of hybrids is a very different case from that of first\ncrosses, for their reproductive organs are more or less functionally\nimpotent; whereas in first crosses the organs on both sides are in a\nperfect condition. As we continually see that organisms of all kinds\nare rendered in some degree sterile from their constitutions having been\ndisturbed by slightly different and new conditions of life, we need\nnot feel surprise at hybrids being in some degree sterile, for their\nconstitutions can hardly fail to have been disturbed from being\ncompounded of two distinct organisations. This parallelism is supported\nby another parallel, but directly opposite, class of facts; namely, that\nthe vigour and fertility of all organic beings are increased by slight\nchanges in their conditions of life, and that the offspring of slightly\nmodified forms or varieties acquire from being crossed increased vigour\nand fertility. So that, on the one hand, considerable changes in the\nconditions of life and crosses between greatly modified forms, lessen\nfertility; and on the other hand, lesser changes in the conditions of\nlife and crosses between less modified forms, increase fertility.\n\nTurning to geographical distribution, the difficulties encountered\non the theory of descent with modification are grave enough. All the\nindividuals of the same species, and all the species of the same genus,\nor even higher group, must have descended from common parents; and\ntherefore, in however distant and isolated parts of the world they are\nnow found, they must in the course of successive generations have passed\nfrom some one part to the others. We are often wholly unable even to\nconjecture how this could have been effected. Yet, as we have reason to\nbelieve that some species have retained the same specific form for very\nlong periods, enormously long as measured by years, too much stress\nought not to be laid on the occasional wide diffusion of the same\nspecies; for during very long periods of time there will always be a\ngood chance for wide migration by many means. A broken or interrupted\nrange may often be accounted for by the extinction of the species in\nthe intermediate regions. It cannot be denied that we are as yet very\nignorant of the full extent of the various climatal and geographical\nchanges which have affected the earth during modern periods; and\nsuch changes will obviously have greatly facilitated migration. As an\nexample, I have attempted to show how potent has been the influence\nof the Glacial period on the distribution both of the same and of\nrepresentative species throughout the world. We are as yet profoundly\nignorant of the many occasional means of transport. With respect to\ndistinct species of the same genus inhabiting very distant and isolated\nregions, as the process of modification has necessarily been slow,\nall the means of migration will have been possible during a very long\nperiod; and consequently the difficulty of the wide diffusion of species\nof the same genus is in some degree lessened.\n\nAs on the theory of natural selection an interminable number of\nintermediate forms must have existed, linking together all the species\nin each group by gradations as fine as our present varieties, it may be\nasked, Why do we not see these linking forms all around us? Why are\nnot all organic beings blended together in an inextricable chaos? With\nrespect to existing forms, we should remember that we have no right to\nexpect (excepting in rare cases) to discover DIRECTLY connecting links\nbetween them, but only between each and some extinct and supplanted\nform. Even on a wide area, which has during a long period remained\ncontinuous, and of which the climate and other conditions of life change\ninsensibly in going from a district occupied by one species into another\ndistrict occupied by a closely allied species, we have no just right to\nexpect often to find intermediate varieties in the intermediate zone.\nFor we have reason to believe that only a few species are undergoing\nchange at any one period; and all changes are slowly effected. I have\nalso shown that the intermediate varieties which will at first probably\nexist in the intermediate zones, will be liable to be supplanted by the\nallied forms on either hand; and the latter, from existing in greater\nnumbers, will generally be modified and improved at a quicker rate than\nthe intermediate varieties, which exist in lesser numbers; so that\nthe intermediate varieties will, in the long run, be supplanted and\nexterminated.\n\nOn this doctrine of the extermination of an infinitude of connecting\nlinks, between the living and extinct inhabitants of the world, and at\neach successive period between the extinct and still older species, why\nis not every geological formation charged with such links? Why does\nnot every collection of fossil remains afford plain evidence of the\ngradation and mutation of the forms of life? We meet with no such\nevidence, and this is the most obvious and forcible of the many\nobjections which may be urged against my theory. Why, again, do whole\ngroups of allied species appear, though certainly they often falsely\nappear, to have come in suddenly on the several geological stages? Why\ndo we not find great piles of strata beneath the Silurian system, stored\nwith the remains of the progenitors of the Silurian groups of fossils?\nFor certainly on my theory such strata must somewhere have been\ndeposited at these ancient and utterly unknown epochs in the world's\nhistory.\n\nI can answer these questions and grave objections only on the\nsupposition that the geological record is far more imperfect than most\ngeologists believe. It cannot be objected that there has not been time\nsufficient for any amount of organic change; for the lapse of time has\nbeen so great as to be utterly inappreciable by the human intellect. The\nnumber of specimens in all our museums is absolutely as nothing compared\nwith the countless generations of countless species which certainly have\nexisted. We should not be able to recognise a species as the parent\nof any one or more species if we were to examine them ever so closely,\nunless we likewise possessed many of the intermediate links between\ntheir past or parent and present states; and these many links we\ncould hardly ever expect to discover, owing to the imperfection of the\ngeological record. Numerous existing doubtful forms could be named which\nare probably varieties; but who will pretend that in future ages so\nmany fossil links will be discovered, that naturalists will be able\nto decide, on the common view, whether or not these doubtful forms are\nvarieties? As long as most of the links between any two species are\nunknown, if any one link or intermediate variety be discovered, it will\nsimply be classed as another and distinct species. Only a small portion\nof the world has been geologically explored. Only organic beings of\ncertain classes can be preserved in a fossil condition, at least in any\ngreat number. Widely ranging species vary most, and varieties are often\nat first local,--both causes rendering the discovery of intermediate\nlinks less likely. Local varieties will not spread into other and\ndistant regions until they are considerably modified and improved; and\nwhen they do spread, if discovered in a geological formation, they will\nappear as if suddenly created there, and will be simply classed as new\nspecies. Most formations have been intermittent in their accumulation;\nand their duration, I am inclined to believe, has been shorter than the\naverage duration of specific forms. Successive formations are separated\nfrom each other by enormous blank intervals of time; for fossiliferous\nformations, thick enough to resist future degradation, can be\naccumulated only where much sediment is deposited on the subsiding bed\nof the sea. During the alternate periods of elevation and of stationary\nlevel the record will be blank. During these latter periods there will\nprobably be more variability in the forms of life; during periods of\nsubsidence, more extinction.\n\nWith respect to the absence of fossiliferous formations beneath the\nlowest Silurian strata, I can only recur to the hypothesis given in the\nninth chapter. That the geological record is imperfect all will admit;\nbut that it is imperfect to the degree which I require, few will be\ninclined to admit. If we look to long enough intervals of time, geology\nplainly declares that all species have changed; and they have changed in\nthe manner which my theory requires, for they have changed slowly and\nin a graduated manner. We clearly see this in the fossil remains from\nconsecutive formations invariably being much more closely related to\neach other, than are the fossils from formations distant from each other\nin time.\n\nSuch is the sum of the several chief objections and difficulties\nwhich may justly be urged against my theory; and I have now briefly\nrecapitulated the answers and explanations which can be given to them. I\nhave felt these difficulties far too heavily during many years to doubt\ntheir weight. But it deserves especial notice that the more important\nobjections relate to questions on which we are confessedly ignorant;\nnor do we know how ignorant we are. We do not know all the possible\ntransitional gradations between the simplest and the most perfect\norgans; it cannot be pretended that we know all the varied means\nof Distribution during the long lapse of years, or that we know how\nimperfect the Geological Record is. Grave as these several difficulties\nare, in my judgment they do not overthrow the theory of descent with\nmodification.\n\nNow let us turn to the other side of the argument. Under domestication\nwe see much variability. This seems to be mainly due to the reproductive\nsystem being eminently susceptible to changes in the conditions of life;\nso that this system, when not rendered impotent, fails to reproduce\noffspring exactly like the parent-form. Variability is governed by many\ncomplex laws,--by correlation of growth, by use and disuse, and by\nthe direct action of the physical conditions of life. There is\nmuch difficulty in ascertaining how much modification our domestic\nproductions have undergone; but we may safely infer that the amount has\nbeen large, and that modifications can be inherited for long periods.\nAs long as the conditions of life remain the same, we have reason to\nbelieve that a modification, which has already been inherited for many\ngenerations, may continue to be inherited for an almost infinite number\nof generations. On the other hand we have evidence that variability,\nwhen it has once come into play, does not wholly cease; for new\nvarieties are still occasionally produced by our most anciently\ndomesticated productions.\n\nMan does not actually produce variability; he only unintentionally\nexposes organic beings to new conditions of life, and then nature acts\non the organisation, and causes variability. But man can and does select\nthe variations given to him by nature, and thus accumulate them in any\ndesired manner. He thus adapts animals and plants for his own benefit or\npleasure. He may do this methodically, or he may do it unconsciously by\npreserving the individuals most useful to him at the time, without\nany thought of altering the breed. It is certain that he can largely\ninfluence the character of a breed by selecting, in each successive\ngeneration, individual differences so slight as to be quite\ninappreciable by an uneducated eye. This process of selection has been\nthe great agency in the production of the most distinct and useful\ndomestic breeds. That many of the breeds produced by man have to a large\nextent the character of natural species, is shown by the inextricable\ndoubts whether very many of them are varieties or aboriginal species.\n\nThere is no obvious reason why the principles which have acted so\nefficiently under domestication should not have acted under nature.\nIn the preservation of favoured individuals and races, during the\nconstantly-recurrent Struggle for Existence, we see the most powerful\nand ever-acting means of selection. The struggle for existence\ninevitably follows from the high geometrical ratio of increase which is\ncommon to all organic beings. This high rate of increase is proved by\ncalculation, by the effects of a succession of peculiar seasons, and by\nthe results of naturalisation, as explained in the third chapter. More\nindividuals are born than can possibly survive. A grain in the balance\nwill determine which individual shall live and which shall die,--which\nvariety or species shall increase in number, and which shall decrease,\nor finally become extinct. As the individuals of the same species\ncome in all respects into the closest competition with each other, the\nstruggle will generally be most severe between them; it will be almost\nequally severe between the varieties of the same species, and next in\nseverity between the species of the same genus. But the struggle will\noften be very severe between beings most remote in the scale of nature.\nThe slightest advantage in one being, at any age or during any season,\nover those with which it comes into competition, or better adaptation\nin however slight a degree to the surrounding physical conditions, will\nturn the balance.\n\nWith animals having separated sexes there will in most cases be a\nstruggle between the males for possession of the females. The most\nvigorous individuals, or those which have most successfully struggled\nwith their conditions of life, will generally leave most progeny. But\nsuccess will often depend on having special weapons or means of defence,\nor on the charms of the males; and the slightest advantage will lead to\nvictory.\n\nAs geology plainly proclaims that each land has undergone great physical\nchanges, we might have expected that organic beings would have varied\nunder nature, in the same way as they generally have varied under the\nchanged conditions of domestication. And if there be any variability\nunder nature, it would be an unaccountable fact if natural selection\nhad not come into play. It has often been asserted, but the assertion is\nquite incapable of proof, that the amount of variation under nature is\na strictly limited quantity. Man, though acting on external characters\nalone and often capriciously, can produce within a short period a\ngreat result by adding up mere individual differences in his domestic\nproductions; and every one admits that there are at least individual\ndifferences in species under nature. But, besides such differences, all\nnaturalists have admitted the existence of varieties, which they think\nsufficiently distinct to be worthy of record in systematic works. No one\ncan draw any clear distinction between individual differences and slight\nvarieties; or between more plainly marked varieties and sub-species,\nand species. Let it be observed how naturalists differ in the rank\nwhich they assign to the many representative forms in Europe and North\nAmerica.\n\nIf then we have under nature variability and a powerful agent always\nready to act and select, why should we doubt that variations in any way\nuseful to beings, under their excessively complex relations of life,\nwould be preserved, accumulated, and inherited? Why, if man can by\npatience select variations most useful to himself, should nature fail in\nselecting variations useful, under changing conditions of life, to her\nliving products? What limit can be put to this power, acting during long\nages and rigidly scrutinising the whole constitution, structure, and\nhabits of each creature,--favouring the good and rejecting the bad? I\ncan see no limit to this power, in slowly and beautifully adapting\neach form to the most complex relations of life. The theory of natural\nselection, even if we looked no further than this, seems to me to be in\nitself probable. I have already recapitulated, as fairly as I could,\nthe opposed difficulties and objections: now let us turn to the special\nfacts and arguments in favour of the theory.\n\nOn the view that species are only strongly marked and permanent\nvarieties, and that each species first existed as a variety, we can\nsee why it is that no line of demarcation can be drawn between species,\ncommonly supposed to have been produced by special acts of creation,\nand varieties which are acknowledged to have been produced by secondary\nlaws. On this same view we can understand how it is that in each region\nwhere many species of a genus have been produced, and where they now\nflourish, these same species should present many varieties; for where\nthe manufactory of species has been active, we might expect, as a\ngeneral rule, to find it still in action; and this is the case if\nvarieties be incipient species. Moreover, the species of the larger\ngenera, which afford the greater number of varieties or incipient\nspecies, retain to a certain degree the character of varieties; for\nthey differ from each other by a less amount of difference than do the\nspecies of smaller genera. The closely allied species also of the larger\ngenera apparently have restricted ranges, and they are clustered in\nlittle groups round other species--in which respects they resemble\nvarieties. These are strange relations on the view of each species\nhaving been independently created, but are intelligible if all species\nfirst existed as varieties.\n\nAs each species tends by its geometrical ratio of reproduction to\nincrease inordinately in number; and as the modified descendants of each\nspecies will be enabled to increase by so much the more as they become\nmore diversified in habits and structure, so as to be enabled to seize\non many and widely different places in the economy of nature, there\nwill be a constant tendency in natural selection to preserve the most\ndivergent offspring of any one species. Hence during a long-continued\ncourse of modification, the slight differences, characteristic of\nvarieties of the same species, tend to be augmented into the greater\ndifferences characteristic of species of the same genus. New and\nimproved varieties will inevitably supplant and exterminate the older,\nless improved and intermediate varieties; and thus species are rendered\nto a large extent defined and distinct objects. Dominant species\nbelonging to the larger groups tend to give birth to new and dominant\nforms; so that each large group tends to become still larger, and at\nthe same time more divergent in character. But as all groups cannot thus\nsucceed in increasing in size, for the world would not hold them, the\nmore dominant groups beat the less dominant. This tendency in the large\ngroups to go on increasing in size and diverging in character, together\nwith the almost inevitable contingency of much extinction, explains the\narrangement of all the forms of life, in groups subordinate to groups,\nall within a few great classes, which we now see everywhere around us,\nand which has prevailed throughout all time. This grand fact of the\ngrouping of all organic beings seems to me utterly inexplicable on the\ntheory of creation.\n\nAs natural selection acts solely by accumulating slight, successive,\nfavourable variations, it can produce no great or sudden modification;\nit can act only by very short and slow steps. Hence the canon of \"Natura\nnon facit saltum,\" which every fresh addition to our knowledge tends to\nmake more strictly correct, is on this theory simply intelligible. We\ncan plainly see why nature is prodigal in variety, though niggard in\ninnovation. But why this should be a law of nature if each species has\nbeen independently created, no man can explain.\n\nMany other facts are, as it seems to me, explicable on this theory. How\nstrange it is that a bird, under the form of woodpecker, should have\nbeen created to prey on insects on the ground; that upland geese, which\nnever or rarely swim, should have been created with webbed feet; that a\nthrush should have been created to dive and feed on sub-aquatic insects;\nand that a petrel should have been created with habits and structure\nfitting it for the life of an auk or grebe! and so on in endless other\ncases. But on the view of each species constantly trying to increase in\nnumber, with natural selection always ready to adapt the slowly varying\ndescendants of each to any unoccupied or ill-occupied place in nature,\nthese facts cease to be strange, or perhaps might even have been\nanticipated.\n\nAs natural selection acts by competition, it adapts the inhabitants\nof each country only in relation to the degree of perfection of their\nassociates; so that we need feel no surprise at the inhabitants of\nany one country, although on the ordinary view supposed to have been\nspecially created and adapted for that country, being beaten and\nsupplanted by the naturalised productions from another land. Nor ought\nwe to marvel if all the contrivances in nature be not, as far as we can\njudge, absolutely perfect; and if some of them be abhorrent to our ideas\nof fitness. We need not marvel at the sting of the bee causing the bee's\nown death; at drones being produced in such vast numbers for one\nsingle act, and being then slaughtered by their sterile sisters; at the\nastonishing waste of pollen by our fir-trees; at the instinctive hatred\nof the queen bee for her own fertile daughters; at ichneumonidae feeding\nwithin the live bodies of caterpillars; and at other such cases. The\nwonder indeed is, on the theory of natural selection, that more cases of\nthe want of absolute perfection have not been observed.\n\nThe complex and little known laws governing variation are the same, as\nfar as we can see, with the laws which have governed the production of\nso-called specific forms. In both cases physical conditions seem to have\nproduced but little direct effect; yet when varieties enter any zone,\nthey occasionally assume some of the characters of the species proper\nto that zone. In both varieties and species, use and disuse seem to have\nproduced some effect; for it is difficult to resist this conclusion\nwhen we look, for instance, at the logger-headed duck, which has wings\nincapable of flight, in nearly the same condition as in the domestic\nduck; or when we look at the burrowing tucutucu, which is occasionally\nblind, and then at certain moles, which are habitually blind and have\ntheir eyes covered with skin; or when we look at the blind animals\ninhabiting the dark caves of America and Europe. In both varieties and\nspecies correlation of growth seems to have played a most important\npart, so that when one part has been modified other parts are\nnecessarily modified. In both varieties and species reversions to\nlong-lost characters occur. How inexplicable on the theory of creation\nis the occasional appearance of stripes on the shoulder and legs of the\nseveral species of the horse-genus and in their hybrids! How simply is\nthis fact explained if we believe that these species have descended from\na striped progenitor, in the same manner as the several domestic breeds\nof pigeon have descended from the blue and barred rock-pigeon!\n\nOn the ordinary view of each species having been independently created,\nwhy should the specific characters, or those by which the species of\nthe same genus differ from each other, be more variable than the generic\ncharacters in which they all agree? Why, for instance, should the colour\nof a flower be more likely to vary in any one species of a genus, if\nthe other species, supposed to have been created independently, have\ndifferently coloured flowers, than if all the species of the genus have\nthe same coloured flowers? If species are only well-marked varieties,\nof which the characters have become in a high degree permanent, we can\nunderstand this fact; for they have already varied since they branched\noff from a common progenitor in certain characters, by which they have\ncome to be specifically distinct from each other; and therefore these\nsame characters would be more likely still to be variable than the\ngeneric characters which have been inherited without change for an\nenormous period. It is inexplicable on the theory of creation why a part\ndeveloped in a very unusual manner in any one species of a genus,\nand therefore, as we may naturally infer, of great importance to the\nspecies, should be eminently liable to variation; but, on my view, this\npart has undergone, since the several species branched off from a common\nprogenitor, an unusual amount of variability and modification, and\ntherefore we might expect this part generally to be still variable. But\na part may be developed in the most unusual manner, like the wing of a\nbat, and yet not be more variable than any other structure, if the part\nbe common to many subordinate forms, that is, if it has been inherited\nfor a very long period; for in this case it will have been rendered\nconstant by long-continued natural selection.\n\nGlancing at instincts, marvellous as some are, they offer no greater\ndifficulty than does corporeal structure on the theory of the natural\nselection of successive, slight, but profitable modifications. We\ncan thus understand why nature moves by graduated steps in endowing\ndifferent animals of the same class with their several instincts. I have\nattempted to show how much light the principle of gradation throws\non the admirable architectural powers of the hive-bee. Habit no doubt\nsometimes comes into play in modifying instincts; but it certainly is\nnot indispensable, as we see, in the case of neuter insects, which leave\nno progeny to inherit the effects of long-continued habit. On the view\nof all the species of the same genus having descended from a common\nparent, and having inherited much in common, we can understand how it is\nthat allied species, when placed under considerably different conditions\nof life, yet should follow nearly the same instincts; why the thrush of\nSouth America, for instance, lines her nest with mud like our British\nspecies. On the view of instincts having been slowly acquired through\nnatural selection we need not marvel at some instincts being apparently\nnot perfect and liable to mistakes, and at many instincts causing other\nanimals to suffer.\n\nIf species be only well-marked and permanent varieties, we can at once\nsee why their crossed offspring should follow the same complex laws\nin their degrees and kinds of resemblance to their parents,--in being\nabsorbed into each other by successive crosses, and in other such\npoints,--as do the crossed offspring of acknowledged varieties. On\nthe other hand, these would be strange facts if species have been\nindependently created, and varieties have been produced by secondary\nlaws.\n\nIf we admit that the geological record is imperfect in an extreme\ndegree, then such facts as the record gives, support the theory of\ndescent with modification. New species have come on the stage slowly and\nat successive intervals; and the amount of change, after equal intervals\nof time, is widely different in different groups. The extinction of\nspecies and of whole groups of species, which has played so conspicuous\na part in the history of the organic world, almost inevitably follows on\nthe principle of natural selection; for old forms will be supplanted\nby new and improved forms. Neither single species nor groups of species\nreappear when the chain of ordinary generation has once been broken. The\ngradual diffusion of dominant forms, with the slow modification of their\ndescendants, causes the forms of life, after long intervals of time, to\nappear as if they had changed simultaneously throughout the world.\nThe fact of the fossil remains of each formation being in some degree\nintermediate in character between the fossils in the formations above\nand below, is simply explained by their intermediate position in the\nchain of descent. The grand fact that all extinct organic beings belong\nto the same system with recent beings, falling either into the same or\ninto intermediate groups, follows from the living and the extinct being\nthe offspring of common parents. As the groups which have descended\nfrom an ancient progenitor have generally diverged in character, the\nprogenitor with its early descendants will often be intermediate in\ncharacter in comparison with its later descendants; and thus we can see\nwhy the more ancient a fossil is, the oftener it stands in some degree\nintermediate between existing and allied groups. Recent forms are\ngenerally looked at as being, in some vague sense, higher than ancient\nand extinct forms; and they are in so far higher as the later and more\nimproved forms have conquered the older and less improved organic beings\nin the struggle for life. Lastly, the law of the long endurance of\nallied forms on the same continent,--of marsupials in Australia, of\nedentata in America, and other such cases,--is intelligible, for within\na confined country, the recent and the extinct will naturally be allied\nby descent.\n\nLooking to geographical distribution, if we admit that there has been\nduring the long course of ages much migration from one part of the world\nto another, owing to former climatal and geographical changes and to the\nmany occasional and unknown means of dispersal, then we can understand,\non the theory of descent with modification, most of the great leading\nfacts in Distribution. We can see why there should be so striking a\nparallelism in the distribution of organic beings throughout space, and\nin their geological succession throughout time; for in both cases the\nbeings have been connected by the bond of ordinary generation, and the\nmeans of modification have been the same. We see the full meaning of the\nwonderful fact, which must have struck every traveller, namely, that on\nthe same continent, under the most diverse conditions, under heat and\ncold, on mountain and lowland, on deserts and marshes, most of the\ninhabitants within each great class are plainly related; for they will\ngenerally be descendants of the same progenitors and early colonists.\nOn this same principle of former migration, combined in most cases with\nmodification, we can understand, by the aid of the Glacial period, the\nidentity of some few plants, and the close alliance of many others,\non the most distant mountains, under the most different climates; and\nlikewise the close alliance of some of the inhabitants of the sea in\nthe northern and southern temperate zones, though separated by the whole\nintertropical ocean. Although two areas may present the same physical\nconditions of life, we need feel no surprise at their inhabitants\nbeing widely different, if they have been for a long period completely\nseparated from each other; for as the relation of organism to organism\nis the most important of all relations, and as the two areas will have\nreceived colonists from some third source or from each other, at various\nperiods and in different proportions, the course of modification in the\ntwo areas will inevitably be different.\n\nOn this view of migration, with subsequent modification, we can see why\noceanic islands should be inhabited by few species, but of these, that\nmany should be peculiar. We can clearly see why those animals which\ncannot cross wide spaces of ocean, as frogs and terrestrial mammals,\nshould not inhabit oceanic islands; and why, on the other hand, new and\npeculiar species of bats, which can traverse the ocean, should so often\nbe found on islands far distant from any continent. Such facts as the\npresence of peculiar species of bats, and the absence of all other\nmammals, on oceanic islands, are utterly inexplicable on the theory of\nindependent acts of creation.\n\nThe existence of closely allied or representative species in any two\nareas, implies, on the theory of descent with modification, that the\nsame parents formerly inhabited both areas; and we almost invariably\nfind that wherever many closely allied species inhabit two areas, some\nidentical species common to both still exist. Wherever many closely\nallied yet distinct species occur, many doubtful forms and varieties of\nthe same species likewise occur. It is a rule of high generality that\nthe inhabitants of each area are related to the inhabitants of the\nnearest source whence immigrants might have been derived. We see this in\nnearly all the plants and animals of the Galapagos archipelago, of Juan\nFernandez, and of the other American islands being related in the most\nstriking manner to the plants and animals of the neighbouring American\nmainland; and those of the Cape de Verde archipelago and other African\nislands to the African mainland. It must be admitted that these facts\nreceive no explanation on the theory of creation.\n\nThe fact, as we have seen, that all past and present organic beings\nconstitute one grand natural system, with group subordinate to group,\nand with extinct groups often falling in between recent groups, is\nintelligible on the theory of natural selection with its contingencies\nof extinction and divergence of character. On these same principles\nwe see how it is, that the mutual affinities of the species and genera\nwithin each class are so complex and circuitous. We see why certain\ncharacters are far more serviceable than others for classification;--why\nadaptive characters, though of paramount importance to the being, are\nof hardly any importance in classification; why characters derived from\nrudimentary parts, though of no service to the being, are often of high\nclassificatory value; and why embryological characters are the most\nvaluable of all. The real affinities of all organic beings are due\nto inheritance or community of descent. The natural system is a\ngenealogical arrangement, in which we have to discover the lines of\ndescent by the most permanent characters, however slight their vital\nimportance may be.\n\nThe framework of bones being the same in the hand of a man, wing of\na bat, fin of the porpoise, and leg of the horse,--the same number of\nvertebrae forming the neck of the giraffe and of the elephant,--and\ninnumerable other such facts, at once explain themselves on the theory\nof descent with slow and slight successive modifications. The similarity\nof pattern in the wing and leg of a bat, though used for such different\npurpose,--in the jaws and legs of a crab,--in the petals, stamens, and\npistils of a flower, is likewise intelligible on the view of the\ngradual modification of parts or organs, which were alike in the early\nprogenitor of each class. On the principle of successive variations\nnot always supervening at an early age, and being inherited at a\ncorresponding not early period of life, we can clearly see why the\nembryos of mammals, birds, reptiles, and fishes should be so closely\nalike, and should be so unlike the adult forms. We may cease marvelling\nat the embryo of an air-breathing mammal or bird having branchial slits\nand arteries running in loops, like those in a fish which has to breathe\nthe air dissolved in water, by the aid of well-developed branchiae.\n\nDisuse, aided sometimes by natural selection, will often tend to reduce\nan organ, when it has become useless by changed habits or under changed\nconditions of life; and we can clearly understand on this view the\nmeaning of rudimentary organs. But disuse and selection will generally\nact on each creature, when it has come to maturity and has to play its\nfull part in the struggle for existence, and will thus have little power\nof acting on an organ during early life; hence the organ will not be\nmuch reduced or rendered rudimentary at this early age. The calf, for\ninstance, has inherited teeth, which never cut through the gums of the\nupper jaw, from an early progenitor having well-developed teeth; and we\nmay believe, that the teeth in the mature animal were reduced, during\nsuccessive generations, by disuse or by the tongue and palate having\nbeen fitted by natural selection to browse without their aid; whereas in\nthe calf, the teeth have been left untouched by selection or disuse,\nand on the principle of inheritance at corresponding ages have been\ninherited from a remote period to the present day. On the view of each\norganic being and each separate organ having been specially created, how\nutterly inexplicable it is that parts, like the teeth in the embryonic\ncalf or like the shrivelled wings under the soldered wing-covers of some\nbeetles, should thus so frequently bear the plain stamp of inutility!\nNature may be said to have taken pains to reveal, by rudimentary organs\nand by homologous structures, her scheme of modification, which it seems\nthat we wilfully will not understand.\n\nI have now recapitulated the chief facts and considerations which have\nthoroughly convinced me that species have changed, and are still slowly\nchanging by the preservation and accumulation of successive slight\nfavourable variations. Why, it may be asked, have all the most eminent\nliving naturalists and geologists rejected this view of the mutability\nof species? It cannot be asserted that organic beings in a state of\nnature are subject to no variation; it cannot be proved that the amount\nof variation in the course of long ages is a limited quantity; no clear\ndistinction has been, or can be, drawn between species and well-marked\nvarieties. It cannot be maintained that species when intercrossed are\ninvariably sterile, and varieties invariably fertile; or that sterility\nis a special endowment and sign of creation. The belief that species\nwere immutable productions was almost unavoidable as long as the history\nof the world was thought to be of short duration; and now that we have\nacquired some idea of the lapse of time, we are too apt to assume,\nwithout proof, that the geological record is so perfect that it would\nhave afforded us plain evidence of the mutation of species, if they had\nundergone mutation.\n\nBut the chief cause of our natural unwillingness to admit that one\nspecies has given birth to other and distinct species, is that we are\nalways slow in admitting any great change of which we do not see the\nintermediate steps. The difficulty is the same as that felt by so many\ngeologists, when Lyell first insisted that long lines of inland cliffs\nhad been formed, and great valleys excavated, by the slow action of the\ncoast-waves. The mind cannot possibly grasp the full meaning of the\nterm of a hundred million years; it cannot add up and perceive the full\neffects of many slight variations, accumulated during an almost infinite\nnumber of generations.\n\nAlthough I am fully convinced of the truth of the views given in this\nvolume under the form of an abstract, I by no means expect to convince\nexperienced naturalists whose minds are stocked with a multitude of\nfacts all viewed, during a long course of years, from a point of view\ndirectly opposite to mine. It is so easy to hide our ignorance under\nsuch expressions as the \"plan of creation,\" \"unity of design,\" etc., and\nto think that we give an explanation when we only restate a fact. Any\none whose disposition leads him to attach more weight to unexplained\ndifficulties than to the explanation of a certain number of facts\nwill certainly reject my theory. A few naturalists, endowed with\nmuch flexibility of mind, and who have already begun to doubt on the\nimmutability of species, may be influenced by this volume; but I look\nwith confidence to the future, to young and rising naturalists, who will\nbe able to view both sides of the question with impartiality. Whoever\nis led to believe that species are mutable will do good service by\nconscientiously expressing his conviction; for only thus can the load of\nprejudice by which this subject is overwhelmed be removed.\n\nSeveral eminent naturalists have of late published their belief that\na multitude of reputed species in each genus are not real species; but\nthat other species are real, that is, have been independently created.\nThis seems to me a strange conclusion to arrive at. They admit that\na multitude of forms, which till lately they themselves thought were\nspecial creations, and which are still thus looked at by the majority of\nnaturalists, and which consequently have every external characteristic\nfeature of true species,--they admit that these have been produced by\nvariation, but they refuse to extend the same view to other and very\nslightly different forms. Nevertheless they do not pretend that they\ncan define, or even conjecture, which are the created forms of life, and\nwhich are those produced by secondary laws. They admit variation as a\nvera causa in one case, they arbitrarily reject it in another, without\nassigning any distinction in the two cases. The day will come when this\nwill be given as a curious illustration of the blindness of preconceived\nopinion. These authors seem no more startled at a miraculous act of\ncreation than at an ordinary birth. But do they really believe that at\ninnumerable periods in the earth's history certain elemental atoms have\nbeen commanded suddenly to flash into living tissues? Do they believe\nthat at each supposed act of creation one individual or many were\nproduced? Were all the infinitely numerous kinds of animals and plants\ncreated as eggs or seed, or as full grown? and in the case of mammals,\nwere they created bearing the false marks of nourishment from the\nmother's womb? Although naturalists very properly demand a full\nexplanation of every difficulty from those who believe in the mutability\nof species, on their own side they ignore the whole subject of the first\nappearance of species in what they consider reverent silence.\n\nIt may be asked how far I extend the doctrine of the modification of\nspecies. The question is difficult to answer, because the more distinct\nthe forms are which we may consider, by so much the arguments fall away\nin force. But some arguments of the greatest weight extend very far.\nAll the members of whole classes can be connected together by chains of\naffinities, and all can be classified on the same principle, in groups\nsubordinate to groups. Fossil remains sometimes tend to fill up\nvery wide intervals between existing orders. Organs in a rudimentary\ncondition plainly show that an early progenitor had the organ in a\nfully developed state; and this in some instances necessarily implies\nan enormous amount of modification in the descendants. Throughout whole\nclasses various structures are formed on the same pattern, and at an\nembryonic age the species closely resemble each other. Therefore I\ncannot doubt that the theory of descent with modification embraces all\nthe members of the same class. I believe that animals have descended\nfrom at most only four or five progenitors, and plants from an equal or\nlesser number.\n\nAnalogy would lead me one step further, namely, to the belief that all\nanimals and plants have descended from some one prototype. But analogy\nmay be a deceitful guide. Nevertheless all living things have much in\ncommon, in their chemical composition, their germinal vesicles, their\ncellular structure, and their laws of growth and reproduction. We see\nthis even in so trifling a circumstance as that the same poison often\nsimilarly affects plants and animals; or that the poison secreted by\nthe gall-fly produces monstrous growths on the wild rose or oak-tree.\nTherefore I should infer from analogy that probably all the organic\nbeings which have ever lived on this earth have descended from some\none primordial form, into which life was first breathed. When the views\nentertained in this volume on the origin of species, or when analogous\nviews are generally admitted, we can dimly foresee that there will be a\nconsiderable revolution in natural history. Systematists will be able\nto pursue their labours as at present; but they will not be incessantly\nhaunted by the shadowy doubt whether this or that form be in essence\na species. This I feel sure, and I speak after experience, will be no\nslight relief. The endless disputes whether or not some fifty species\nof British brambles are true species will cease. Systematists will\nhave only to decide (not that this will be easy) whether any form be\nsufficiently constant and distinct from other forms, to be capable of\ndefinition; and if definable, whether the differences be sufficiently\nimportant to deserve a specific name. This latter point will become a\nfar more essential consideration than it is at present; for differences,\nhowever slight, between any two forms, if not blended by intermediate\ngradations, are looked at by most naturalists as sufficient to raise\nboth forms to the rank of species. Hereafter we shall be compelled to\nacknowledge that the only distinction between species and well-marked\nvarieties is, that the latter are known, or believed, to be connected\nat the present day by intermediate gradations, whereas species\nwere formerly thus connected. Hence, without quite rejecting the\nconsideration of the present existence of intermediate gradations\nbetween any two forms, we shall be led to weigh more carefully and to\nvalue higher the actual amount of difference between them. It is quite\npossible that forms now generally acknowledged to be merely varieties\nmay hereafter be thought worthy of specific names, as with the primrose\nand cowslip; and in this case scientific and common language will come\ninto accordance. In short, we shall have to treat species in the same\nmanner as those naturalists treat genera, who admit that genera are\nmerely artificial combinations made for convenience. This may not be a\ncheering prospect; but we shall at least be freed from the vain search\nfor the undiscovered and undiscoverable essence of the term species.\n\nThe other and more general departments of natural history will rise\ngreatly in interest. The terms used by naturalists of affinity,\nrelationship, community of type, paternity, morphology, adaptive\ncharacters, rudimentary and aborted organs, etc., will cease to be\nmetaphorical, and will have a plain signification. When we no longer\nlook at an organic being as a savage looks at a ship, as at something\nwholly beyond his comprehension; when we regard every production of\nnature as one which has had a history; when we contemplate every complex\nstructure and instinct as the summing up of many contrivances, each\nuseful to the possessor, nearly in the same way as when we look at\nany great mechanical invention as the summing up of the labour, the\nexperience, the reason, and even the blunders of numerous workmen; when\nwe thus view each organic being, how far more interesting, I speak from\nexperience, will the study of natural history become!\n\nA grand and almost untrodden field of inquiry will be opened, on the\ncauses and laws of variation, on correlation of growth, on the effects\nof use and disuse, on the direct action of external conditions, and so\nforth. The study of domestic productions will rise immensely in value.\nA new variety raised by man will be a far more important and interesting\nsubject for study than one more species added to the infinitude of\nalready recorded species. Our classifications will come to be, as far as\nthey can be so made, genealogies; and will then truly give what may be\ncalled the plan of creation. The rules for classifying will no doubt\nbecome simpler when we have a definite object in view. We possess no\npedigrees or armorial bearings; and we have to discover and trace\nthe many diverging lines of descent in our natural genealogies, by\ncharacters of any kind which have long been inherited. Rudimentary\norgans will speak infallibly with respect to the nature of long-lost\nstructures. Species and groups of species, which are called aberrant,\nand which may fancifully be called living fossils, will aid us in\nforming a picture of the ancient forms of life. Embryology will reveal\nto us the structure, in some degree obscured, of the prototypes of each\ngreat class.\n\nWhen we can feel assured that all the individuals of the same species,\nand all the closely allied species of most genera, have within a not\nvery remote period descended from one parent, and have migrated\nfrom some one birthplace; and when we better know the many means\nof migration, then, by the light which geology now throws, and will\ncontinue to throw, on former changes of climate and of the level of the\nland, we shall surely be enabled to trace in an admirable manner\nthe former migrations of the inhabitants of the whole world. Even at\npresent, by comparing the differences of the inhabitants of the sea\non the opposite sides of a continent, and the nature of the various\ninhabitants of that continent in relation to their apparent means of\nimmigration, some light can be thrown on ancient geography.\n\nThe noble science of Geology loses glory from the extreme imperfection\nof the record. The crust of the earth with its embedded remains must not\nbe looked at as a well-filled museum, but as a poor collection made\nat hazard and at rare intervals. The accumulation of each great\nfossiliferous formation will be recognised as having depended on an\nunusual concurrence of circumstances, and the blank intervals between\nthe successive stages as having been of vast duration. But we shall be\nable to gauge with some security the duration of these intervals by a\ncomparison of the preceding and succeeding organic forms. We must be\ncautious in attempting to correlate as strictly contemporaneous\ntwo formations, which include few identical species, by the general\nsuccession of their forms of life. As species are produced and\nexterminated by slowly acting and still existing causes, and not\nby miraculous acts of creation and by catastrophes; and as the most\nimportant of all causes of organic change is one which is almost\nindependent of altered and perhaps suddenly altered physical conditions,\nnamely, the mutual relation of organism to organism,--the improvement of\none being entailing the improvement or the extermination of others; it\nfollows, that the amount of organic change in the fossils of consecutive\nformations probably serves as a fair measure of the lapse of actual\ntime. A number of species, however, keeping in a body might remain for a\nlong period unchanged, whilst within this same period, several of these\nspecies, by migrating into new countries and coming into competition\nwith foreign associates, might become modified; so that we must not\noverrate the accuracy of organic change as a measure of time. During\nearly periods of the earth's history, when the forms of life were\nprobably fewer and simpler, the rate of change was probably slower; and\nat the first dawn of life, when very few forms of the simplest structure\nexisted, the rate of change may have been slow in an extreme degree. The\nwhole history of the world, as at present known, although of a length\nquite incomprehensible by us, will hereafter be recognised as a mere\nfragment of time, compared with the ages which have elapsed since\nthe first creature, the progenitor of innumerable extinct and living\ndescendants, was created.\n\nIn the distant future I see open fields for far more important\nresearches. Psychology will be based on a new foundation, that of the\nnecessary acquirement of each mental power and capacity by gradation.\nLight will be thrown on the origin of man and his history.\n\nAuthors of the highest eminence seem to be fully satisfied with the view\nthat each species has been independently created. To my mind it accords\nbetter with what we know of the laws impressed on matter by the Creator,\nthat the production and extinction of the past and present inhabitants\nof the world should have been due to secondary causes, like those\ndetermining the birth and death of the individual. When I view all\nbeings not as special creations, but as the lineal descendants of some\nfew beings which lived long before the first bed of the Silurian system\nwas deposited, they seem to me to become ennobled. Judging from the\npast, we may safely infer that not one living species will transmit its\nunaltered likeness to a distant futurity. And of the species now living\nvery few will transmit progeny of any kind to a far distant futurity;\nfor the manner in which all organic beings are grouped, shows that the\ngreater number of species of each genus, and all the species of many\ngenera, have left no descendants, but have become utterly extinct. We\ncan so far take a prophetic glance into futurity as to foretel that it\nwill be the common and widely-spread species, belonging to the larger\nand dominant groups, which will ultimately prevail and procreate new\nand dominant species. As all the living forms of life are the lineal\ndescendants of those which lived long before the Silurian epoch, we may\nfeel certain that the ordinary succession by generation has never once\nbeen broken, and that no cataclysm has desolated the whole world.\nHence we may look with some confidence to a secure future of equally\ninappreciable length. And as natural selection works solely by and for\nthe good of each being, all corporeal and mental endowments will tend to\nprogress towards perfection.\n\nIt is interesting to contemplate an entangled bank, clothed with many\nplants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various\ninsects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth,\nand to reflect that these elaborately constructed forms, so different\nfrom each other, and dependent on each other in so complex a manner,\nhave all been produced by laws acting around us. These laws, taken in\nthe largest sense, being Growth with Reproduction; Inheritance which is\nalmost implied by reproduction; Variability from the indirect and direct\naction of the external conditions of life, and from use and disuse; a\nRatio of Increase so high as to lead to a Struggle for Life, and as a\nconsequence to Natural Selection, entailing Divergence of Character and\nthe Extinction of less-improved forms. Thus, from the war of nature,\nfrom famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable\nof conceiving, namely, the production of the higher animals, directly\nfollows. There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several\npowers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one;\nand that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed\nlaw of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful\nand most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\n Aberrant groups, 429.\n\n Abyssinia, plants of, 375.\n\n Acclimatisation, 139.\n\n Affinities:\n of extinct species, 329.\n of organic beings, 411.\n\n Agassiz:\n on Amblyopsis, 139.\n on groups of species suddenly appearing, 302, 305.\n on embryological succession, 338.\n on the glacial period, 366.\n on embryological characters, 418.\n on the embryos of vertebrata, 439.\n on parallelism of embryological development and geological succession,\n 449.\n\n Algae of New Zealand, 376.\n\n Alligators, males, fighting, 88.\n\n Amblyopsis, blind fish, 139.\n\n America, North:\n productions allied to those of Europe, 371.\n boulders and glaciers of, 373.\n South, no modern formations on west coast, 290.\n\n Ammonites, sudden extinction of, 321.\n\n Anagallis, sterility of, 247.\n\n Analogy of variations, 159.\n\n Ancylus, 386.\n\n Animals:\n not domesticated from being variable, 17.\n domestic, descended from several stocks, 19.\n acclimatisation of, 141.\n of Australia, 116.\n with thicker fur in cold climates, 133.\n blind, in caves, 137.\n extinct, of Australia, 339.\n\n Anomma, 240.\n\n Antarctic islands, ancient flora of, 399.\n\n Antirrhinum, 161.\n\n Ants:\n attending aphides, 211.\n slave-making instinct, 219.\n\n Ants, neuter, structure of, 236.\n\n Aphides attended by ants, 211.\n\n Aphis, development of, 442.\n\n Apteryx, 182.\n\n Arab horses, 35,\n\n Aralo-Caspian Sea, 339.\n\n Archiac, M. de, on the succession of species, 325.\n\n Artichoke, Jerusalem, 142.\n\n Ascension, plants of, 389.\n\n Asclepias, pollen of, 193.\n\n Asparagus, 359.\n\n Aspicarpa, 417.\n\n Asses, striped, 163.\n\n Ateuchus, 135,\n\n Audubon:\n on habits of frigate-bird, 185.\n on variation in birds'-nests, 212,\n on heron eating seeds, 387.\n\n Australia:\n animals of, 116.\n dogs of, 215.\n extinct animals of, 339.\n European plants in, 375.\n\n Azara on flies destroying cattle, 72.\n\n Azores, flora of, 363.\n\n Babington, Mr., on British plants, 48.\n\n Balancement of growth, 147.\n\n Bamboo with hooks, 197.\n\n Barberry, flowers of, 98.\n\n Barrande, M.:\n on Silurian colonies, 313.\n on the succession of species, 325.\n on parallelism of palaeozoic formations, 328.\n on affinities of ancient species, 330.\n\n Barriers, importance of, 347.\n\n Batrachians on islands, 393.\n\n Bats:\n how structure acquired, 180.\n distribution of, 394.\n\n Bear, catching water-insects, 184.\n\n Bee:\n sting of, 202.\n queen, killing rivals, 202.\n\n Bees fertilising flowers, 73.\n\n Bees:\n hive, not sucking the red clover, 95.\n cell-making instinct, 224.\n humble, cells of, 225.\n parasitic, 218.\n\n Beetles:\n wingless, in Madeira, 135.\n with deficient tarsi, 135.\n\n Bentham, Mr.:\n on British plants, 48.\n on classification, 419.\n\n Berkeley, Mr., on seeds in salt-water, 358.\n\n Bermuda, birds of, 391.\n\n Birds:\n acquiring fear, 212.\n annually cross the Atlantic, 364.\n colour of, on continents, 132.\n fossil, in caves of Brazil, 339.\n of Madeira, Bermuda, and Galapagos, 390.\n song of males, 89.\n transporting seeds, 361.\n waders, 386.\n wingless, 134, 182.\n with traces of embryonic teeth, 451.\n\n Bizcacha, 349.\n affinities of, 429.\n\n Bladder for swimming in fish, 190.\n\n Blindness of cave animals, 137,\n\n Blyth, Mr.:\n on distinctness of Indian cattle, 18.\n on striped Hemionus, 163.\n on crossed geese, 253.\n\n Boar, shoulder-pad of, 88.\n\n Borrow, Mr., on the Spanish pointer, 35.\n\n Bory St. Vincent on Batrachians, 393.\n\n Bosquet, M., on fossil Chthamalus, 304.\n\n Boulders, erratic, on the Azores, 363.\n\n Branchiae, 190.\n\n Brent, Mr.:\n on house-tumblers, 214.\n on hawks killing pigeons, 362.\n\n Brewer, Dr., on American cuckoo, 217.\n\n Britain, mammals of, 395.\n\n Bronn on duration of specific forms, 293.\n\n Brown, Robert, on classification, 414.\n\n Buckman on variation in plants, 10.\n\n Buzareingues on sterility of varieties, 270.\n\n Cabbage, varieties of, crossed, 99.\n\n Calceolaria, 251.\n\n Canary-birds, sterility of hybrids, 252.\n\n Cape de Verde islands, 398.\n\n Cape of Good Hope, plants of, 110, 375.\n\n Carrier-pigeons killed by hawks, 362.\n\n Cassini on flowers of compositae, 145.\n\n Catasetum, 424.\n\n Cats:\n with blue eyes, deaf, 12.\n variation in habits of, 91.\n curling tail when going to spring, 201.\n\n Cattle:\n destroying fir-trees, 71.\n destroyed by flies in La Plata, 72.\n breeds of, locally extinct, 111.\n fertility of Indian and European breeds, 254.\n\n Cave, inhabitants of, blind, 137.\n\n Centres of creation, 352.\n\n Cephalopodae, development of, 442.\n\n Cervulus, 253.\n\n Cetacea, teeth and hair, 144.\n\n Ceylon, plants of, 375.\n\n Chalk formation, 322.\n\n Characters:\n divergence of, 111.\n sexual, variable, 156.\n adaptive or analogical, 427.\n\n Charlock, 76,\n\n Checks:\n to increase, 67.\n mutual, 71.\n\n Chickens, instinctive tameness of, 216.\n\n Chthamalinae, 288.\n\n Chthamalus, cretacean species of, 304.\n\n Circumstances favourable:\n to selection of domestic products, 40.\n to natural selection, 101.\n\n Cirripedes:\n capable of crossing, 101.\n carapace aborted, 148.\n their ovigerous frena, 192.\n fossil, 304.\n larvae of, 440.\n\n Classification, 413.\n\n Clift, Mr., on the succession of types, 339.\n\n Climate:\n effects of, in checking increase of beings, 68.\n adaptation of, to organisms, 139.\n\n Cobites, intestine of, 190.\n\n Cockroach, 76.\n\n Collections, palaeontological, poor, 287.\n\n Colour:\n influenced by climate, 132.\n in relation to attacks by flies, 198.\n\n Columba livia, parent of domestic pigeons, 23.\n\n Colymbetes, 386.\n\n Compensation of growth, 147.\n\n Compositae:\n outer and inner florets of, 144.\n male flowers of, 451.\n\n Conclusion, general, 480.\n\n Conditions, slight changes in, favourable to fertility, 267.\n\n Coot, 185.\n\n Coral:\n islands, seeds drifted to, 360.\n reefs, indicating movements of earth, 309.\n\n Corn-crake, 185.\n\n Correlation:\n of growth in domestic productions, 11.\n of growth, 143, 198.\n\n Cowslip, 49.\n\n Creation, single centres of, 352.\n\n Crinum, 250.\n\n Crosses, reciprocal, 258.\n\n Crossing:\n of domestic animals, importance in altering breeds, 20.\n advantages of, 96.\n unfavourable to selection, 102.\n\n Crustacea of New Zealand, 376.\n\n Crustacean, blind, 137.\n\n Cryptocerus, 238.\n\n Ctenomys, blind, 137.\n\n Cuckoo, instinct of, 216.\n\n Currants, grafts of, 262.\n\n Currents of sea, rate of, 359.\n\n Cuvier:\n on conditions of existence, 206.\n on fossil monkeys, 303.\n\n Cuvier, Fred., on instinct, 208.\n\n Dana, Professor:\n on blind cave-animals, 139.\n on relations of crustaceans of Japan, 372.\n on crustaceans of New Zealand, 376.\n\n De Candolle:\n on struggle for existence, 62.\n on umbelliferae, 146.\n on general affinities, 430.\n\n De Candolle, Alph.:\n on low plants, widely dispersed, 406.\n on widely-ranging plants being variable, 53.\n on naturalisation, 115.\n on winged seeds, 146.\n on Alpine species suddenly becoming rare, 175.\n on distribution of plants with large seeds, 360.\n on vegetation of Australia, 379.\n on fresh-water plants, 386.\n on insular plants, 389.\n\n Degradation of coast-rocks, 282.\n\n Denudation:\n rate of, 285.\n of oldest rocks, 308.\n\n Development of ancient forms, 336.\n\n Devonian system, 334.\n\n Dianthus, fertility of crosses, 256.\n\n Dirt on feet of birds, 362.\n\n Dispersal:\n means of, 356.\n during glacial period, 365.\n\n Distribution:\n geographical, 346.\n means of, 356.\n\n Disuse, effects of, under nature, 134.\n\n Divergence of character, 111.\n\n Division, physiological, of labour, 115.\n\n Dogs:\n hairless, with imperfect teeth, 12.\n descended from several wild stocks, 18.\n domestic instincts of, 213.\n inherited civilisation of, 215.\n fertility of breeds together, 254.\n of crosses, 268,\n proportions of, when young, 444.\n\n Domestication, variation under, 7.\n\n Downing, Mr., on fruit-trees in America, 85.\n\n Downs, North and South, 285.\n\n Dragon-flies, intestines of, 190.\n\n Drift-timber, 360.\n\n Driver-ant, 240.\n\n Drones killed by other bees, 202.\n\n Duck:\n domestic, wings of, reduced, 11.\n logger-headed, 182.\n\n Duckweed, 385.\n\n Dugong, affinities of, 414.\n\n Dung-beetles with deficient tarsi, 135.\n\n Dyticus, 386.\n\n Earl, Mr. W., on the Malay Archipelago, 395.\n\n Ears:\n drooping, in domestic animals, 11.\n rudimentary, 454.\n\n Earth, seeds in roots of trees, 361.\n\n Eciton, 238.\n\n Economy of organisation, 147.\n\n Edentata:\n teeth and hair, 144.\n fossil species of, 339.\n\n Edwards, Milne:\n on physiological divisions of labour, 115.\n on gradations of structure, 194.\n on embryological characters, 418.\n\n Eggs, young birds escaping from, 87.\n\n Electric organs, 192.\n\n Elephant:\n rate of increase, 64.\n of glacial period, 141.\n\n Embryology, 439.\n\n Existence:\n struggle for, 60.\n conditions of, 206.\n\n Extinction:\n as bearing on natural selection, 109.\n of domestic varieties, 111.\n 317.\n\n Eye:\n structure of, 187.\n correction for aberration, 202.\n\n Eyes reduced in moles, 137.\n\n Fabre, M., on parasitic sphex, 218.\n\n Falconer, Dr.:\n on naturalization of plants in India, 65.\n on fossil crocodile, 313.\n on elephants and mastodons, 334,\n and Cautley on mammals of sub-Himalayan beds, 340.\n\n Falkland Island, wolf of, 393.\n\n Faults, 285.\n\n Faunas, marine, 348.\n\n Fear, instinctive, in birds, 212.\n\n Feet of birds, young molluscs adhering to, 385.\n\n Fertility:\n of hybrids, 249.\n from slight changes in conditions, 267.\n of crossed varieties, 267.\n\n Fir-trees:\n destroyed by cattle, 71.\n pollen of, 203.\n\n Fish:\n flying, 182.\n teleostean, sudden appearance of, 305.\n eating seeds, 362, 387.\n fresh-water, distribution of, 384.\n\n Fishes:\n ganoid, now confined to fresh water, 107.\n electric organs of, 192.\n ganoid, living in fresh water, 321.\n of southern hemisphere, 376.\n\n Flight, powers of, how acquired, 182.\n\n Flowers:\n structure of, in relation to crossing, 97.\n of compositae and umbelliferae, 144.\n\n Forbes, E.:\n on colours of shells, 132.\n on abrupt range of shells in depth, 175.\n on poorness of palaeontological collections, 287.\n on continuous succession of genera, 316.\n on continental extensions, 357.\n on distribution during glacial period, 366,\n on parallelism in time and space, 409.\n\n Forests, changes in, in America, 74.\n\n Formation, Devonian, 334.\n\n Formations:\n thickness of, in Britain, 284.\n intermittent, 290.\n\n Formica rufescens, 219.\n\n Formica sanguinea, 219.\n\n Formica flava, neuter of, 239.\n\n Frena, ovigerous, of cirripedes, 192.\n\n Fresh-water productions, dispersal of, 383.\n\n Fries on species in large genera being closely allied to other\n species, 57.\n\n Frigate-bird, 185.\n\n Frogs on islands, 393.\n\n Fruit-trees:\n gradual improvement of, 37.\n in United States, 85.\n varieties of, acclimatised in United States, 142.\n\n Fuci, crossed, 258.\n\n Fur, thicker in cold climates, 133.\n\n Furze, 439.\n\n Galapagos Archipelago:\n birds of, 390.\n productions of, 398, 400.\n\n Galeopithecus, 181.\n\n Game, increase of, checked by vermin, 68.\n\n Gartner:\n on sterility of hybrids, 247, 255.\n on reciprocal crosses, 258.\n on crossed maize and verbascum, 270.\n on comparison of hybrids and mongrels, 272.\n\n Geese:\n fertility when crossed, 253.\n upland, 185.\n\n Genealogy important in classification, 425.\n\n Geoffrey St. Hilaire:\n on balancement, 147.\n on homologous organs, 434.\n\n Geoffrey St. Hilaire, Isidore:\n on variability of repeated parts, 149.\n on correlation in monstrosities, 11.\n on correlation, 144.\n on variable parts being often monstrous, 155.\n\n Geographical distribution, 346.\n\n Geography, ancient, 487.\n\n Geology:\n future progress of, 487.\n imperfection of the record, 279.\n\n Giraffe, tail of, 195.\n\n Glacial period, 365.\n\n Gmelin on distribution, 365.\n\n Gnathodon, fossil, 368.\n\n Godwin-Austen, Mr., on the Malay Archipelago, 299.\n\n Goethe on compensation of growth, 147.\n\n Gooseberry, grafts of, 262.\n\n Gould, Dr. A., on land-shells, 397.\n\n Gould, Mr.:\n on colours of birds, 132.\n on birds of the Galapagos, 398.\n on distribution of genera of birds, 404.\n\n Gourds, crossed, 270.\n\n Grafts, capacity of, 261.\n\n Grasses, varieties of, 113.\n\n Gray, Dr. Asa:\n on trees of United States, 100.\n on naturalised plants in the United States, 115.\n on rarity of intermediate varieties, 176.\n on Alpine plants, 365.\n\n Gray, Dr. J. E., on striped mule, 165.\n\n Grebe, 185.\n\n Groups, aberrant, 429.\n\n Grouse:\n colours of, 84.\n red, a doubtful species, 49.\n\n Growth:\n compensation of, 147.\n correlation of, in domestic products, 11.\n correlation of, 143.\n\n Habit:\n effect of, under domestication, 11.\n effect of, under nature, 134.\n diversified, of same species, 183.\n\n Hair and teeth, correlated, 144.\n\n Harcourt, Mr. E. V., on the birds of Madeira, 391.\n\n Hartung, M., on boulders in the Azores, 363.\n\n Hazel-nuts, 359.\n\n Hearne on habits of bears, 184.\n\n Heath, changes in vegetation, 72,\n\n Heer, O., on plants of Madeira, 107.\n\n Helix pomatia, 397.\n\n Helosciadium, 359.\n\n Hemionus, striped, 163.\n\n Herbert, W.:\n on struggle for existence, 62.\n on sterility of hybrids, 249.\n\n Hermaphrodites crossing, 96.\n\n Heron eating seed, 387.\n\n Heron, Sir R., on peacocks, 89.\n\n Heusinger on white animals not poisoned by certain plants, 12.\n\n Hewitt, Mr., on sterility of first crosses. 264.\n\n Himalaya:\n glaciers of, 373.\n plants of, 375.\n\n Hippeastrum, 250.\n\n Holly-trees, sexes of, 93.\n\n Hollyhock, varieties of, crossed, 271.\n\n Hooker, Dr., on trees of New Zealand, 100.\n\n Hooker, Dr.:\n on acclimatisation of Himalayan trees, 140.\n on flowers of umbelliferae, 145.\n on glaciers of Himalaya, 373.\n on algae of New Zealand, 376.\n on vegetation at the base of the Himalaya, 378.\n on plants of Tierra del Fuego, 374, 378.\n on Australian plants, 375, 399.\n on relations of flora of South America, 379.\n on flora of the Antarctic lands, 381, 399.\n on the plants of the Galapagos, 391, 398.\n\n Hooks:\n on bamboos, 197.\n to seeds on islands, 392.\n\n Horner, Mr., on the antiquity of Egyptians, 18.\n\n Horns, rudimentary, 454.\n\n Horse, fossil, in La Plata, 318.\n\n Horses:\n destroyed by flies in La Plata, 72.\n striped, 163.\n proportions of, when young, 445.\n\n Horticulturists, selection applied by, 32.\n\n Huber on cells of bees, 230.\n\n Huber, P.:\n on reason blended with instinct, 208.\n on habitual nature of instincts, 208.\n on slave making ants, 219.\n on Melipona domestica, 225.\n\n Humble-bees, cells of, 225.\n\n Hunter, J., on secondary sexual characters, 150.\n\n Hutton, Captain, on crossed geese, 253.\n\n Huxley, Professor:\n on structure of hermaphrodites, 101.\n on embryological succession, 338.\n on homologous organs, 438.\n on the development of aphis, 442.\n\n Hybrids and mongrels compared, 272.\n\n Hybridism, 245.\n\n Hydra, structure of, 190.\n\n Ibla, 148.\n\n Icebergs transporting seeds, 363.\n\n Increase, rate of, 63.\n\n Individuals:\n numbers favourable to selection, 102.\n many, whether simultaneously created, 356.\n\n Inheritance:\n laws of, 12.\n at corresponding ages, 14, 86.\n\n Insects:\n colour of, fitted for habitations, 84.\n sea-side, colours of, 132.\n blind, in caves, 138.\n luminous, 193.\n neuter, 236.\n\n Instinct, 207.\n\n Instincts, domestic, 213.\n\n Intercrossing, advantages of, 96.\n\n Islands, oceanic, 388.\n\n Isolation favourable to selection, 104.\n\n Japan, productions of, 372.\n\n Java, plants of, 375.\n\n Jones, Mr. J. M., on the birds of Bermuda, 391.\n\n Jussieu on classification, 417.\n\n Kentucky, caves of, 137.\n\n Kerguelen-land, flora of, 381, 399.\n\n Kidney-bean, acclimatisation of, 142.\n\n Kidneys of birds, 144.\n\n Kirby on tarsi deficient in beetles, 135.\n\n Knight, Andrew, on cause of variation, 7.\n\n Kolreuter:\n on the barberry, 98.\n on sterility of hybrids, 247.\n on reciprocal crosses, 258.\n on crossed varieties of nicotiana, 271.\n on crossing male and hermaphrodite flowers, 451.\n\n Lamarck on adaptive characters, 427.\n\n Land-shells:\n distribution of, 397.\n of Madeira, naturalised, 402.\n\n Languages, classification of, 422.\n\n Lapse, great, of time, 282.\n\n Larvae, 440.\n\n Laurel, nectar secreted by the leaves, 92.\n\n Laws of variation, 131.\n\n Leech, varieties of, 76.\n\n Leguminosae, nectar secreted by glands, 92.\n\n Lepidosiren, 107, 330.\n\n Life, struggle for, 60.\n\n Lingula, Silurian, 306.\n\n Linnaeus, aphorism of, 413.\n\n Lion:\n mane of, 88.\n young of, striped, 439.\n\n Lobelia fulgens, 73, 98,\n\n Lobelia, sterility of crosses, 250.\n\n Loess of the Rhine, 384.\n\n Lowness of structure connected with variability, 149.\n\n Lowness, related to wide distribution, 406.\n\n Lubbock, Mr., on the nerves of coccus, 46.\n\n Lucas, Dr. P.:\n on inheritance, 12.\n on resemblance of child to parent, 275.\n\n Lund and Clausen on fossils of Brazil, 339.\n\n Lyell, Sir C.:\n on the struggle for existence, 62.\n on modern changes of the earth, 95.\n on measure of denudation, 283.\n on a carboniferous land-shell, 289.\n on fossil whales, 303.\n on strata beneath Silurian system, 307.\n on the imperfection of the geological record, 310.\n on the appearance of species, 312.\n on Barrande's colonies, 313.\n on tertiary formations of Europe and North America, 323.\n on parallelism of tertiary formations, 328.\n on transport of seeds by icebergs, 363.\n on great alternations of climate, 382.\n on the distribution of fresh-water shells, 385.\n on land-shells of Madeira, 402.\n\n Lyell and Dawson on fossilized trees in Nova Scotia, 296.\n\n Macleay on analogical characters, 427.\n\n Madeira:\n plants of, 107.\n beetles of, wingless, 135.\n fossil land-shells of, 339.\n birds of, 390.\n\n Magpie tame in Norway, 212.\n\n Maize, crossed, 270.\n\n Malay Archipelago:\n compared with Europe, 299.\n mammals of, 395.\n\n Malpighiaceae, 417.\n\n Mammae, rudimentary, 451.\n\n Mammals:\n fossil, in secondary formation, 303.\n insular, 393.\n\n Man, origin of races of, 199.\n\n Manatee, rudimentary nails of, 454.\n\n Marsupials:\n of Australia, 116.\n fossil species of, 339.\n\n Martens, M., experiment on seeds, 360.\n\n Martin, Mr. W. C., on striped mules, 165.\n\n Matteuchi on the electric organs of rays, 193.\n\n Matthiola, reciprocal crosses of, 258.\n\n Means of dispersal, 356.\n\n Melipona domestica, 225.\n\n Metamorphism of oldest rocks 308.\n\n Mice:\n destroying bees, 74.\n acclimatisation of, 141.\n\n Migration, bears on first appearance of fossils, 296.\n\n Miller, Professor, on the cells of bees, 226.\n\n Mirabilis, crosses of, 258.\n\n Missel-thrush, 76.\n\n Misseltoe, complex relations of, 3.\n\n Mississippi, rate of deposition at mouth, 284.\n\n Mocking-thrush of the Galapagos, 402.\n\n Modification of species, how far applicable, 483.\n\n Moles, blind, 137.\n\n Mongrels:\n fertility and sterility of, 267.\n and hybrids compared, 272.\n\n Monkeys, fossil, 303,\n\n Monocanthus, 424.\n\n Mons, Van, on the origin of fruit-trees, 29, 39.\n\n Moquin-Tandon on sea-side plants, 132.\n\n Morphology, 434.\n\n Mozart, musical powers of, 209.\n\n Mud, seeds in, 386.\n\n Mules, striped, 165.\n\n Muller, Dr. F., on Alpine Australian plants, 375.\n\n Murchison, Sir R.:\n on the formations of Russia, 289.\n on azoic formations, 307.\n on extinction, 317.\n\n Mustela vison, 179.\n\n Myanthus, 424.\n\n Myrmecocystus, 238.\n\n Myrmica, eyes of, 240.\n\n Nails, rudimentary, 453.\n\n Natural history:\n future progress of, 484.\n selection, 80.\n system, 413.\n\n Naturalisation:\n of forms distinct from the indigenous species, 115.\n in New Zealand, 201.\n\n Nautilus, Silurian, 306.\n\n Nectar of plants, 92.\n\n Nectaries, how formed, 92.\n\n Nelumbium luteum, 387.\n\n Nests, variation in, 212.\n\n Neuter insects, 236.\n\n Newman, Mr., on humble-bees, 74.\n\n New Zealand:\n productions of, not perfect, 201.\n naturalised products of, 337.\n fossil birds of, 339.\n glacial action in, 373,\n crustaceans of, 376.\n algae of, 376.\n number of plants of, 389.\n flora of, 399.\n\n Nicotiana:\n crossed varieties of, 271.\n certain species very sterile, 257.\n\n Noble, Mr., on fertility of Rhododendron, 251.\n\n Nodules, phosphatic, in azoic rocks, 307,\n\n Oak, varieties of, 50.\n\n Onites apelles, 135.\n\n Orchis, pollen of, 193,\n\n Organs:\n of extreme perfection, 186,\n electric, of fishes, 192.\n of little importance, 194.\n homologous, 434.\n rudiments of, 450.\n\n Ornithorhynchus, 107, 416.\n\n Ostrich:\n not capable of flight, 134.\n habit of laying eggs together, 218.\n American, two species of, 349.\n\n Otter, habits of, how acquired, 179.\n\n Ouzel, water, 185.\n\n Owen, Professor:\n on birds not flying, 134.\n on vegetative repetition, 149.\n on variable length of arms in ourang-outang, 150.\n on the swim-bladder of fishes, 191.\n on electric organs, 192.\n on fossil horse of La Plata, 319.\n on relations of ruminants and pachyderms, 329.\n on fossil birds of New Zealand, 339.\n on succession of types, 339.\n on affinities of the dugong, 414.\n on homologous organs, 435.\n on the metamorphosis of cephalopods and spiders, 442.\n\n Pacific Ocean, faunas of, 348.\n\n Paley on no organ formed to give pain, 201.\n\n Pallas on the fertility of the wild stocks of domestic animals, 253.\n\n Paraguay, cattle destroyed by flies, 72.\n\n Parasites, 217.\n\n Partridge, dirt on feet, 362.\n\n Parts:\n greatly developed, variable, 150.\n degrees of utility of, 201.\n\n Parus major, 183.\n\n Passiflora, 251.\n\n Peaches in United States, 85.\n\n Pear, grafts of, 261.\n\n Pelargonium:\n flowers of, 145.\n sterility of, 251.\n\n Pelvis of women, 144,\n\n Peloria, 145.\n\n Period, glacial, 365.\n\n Petrels, habits of, 184.\n\n Phasianus, fertility of hybrids, 253.\n\n Pheasant, young, wild, 216.\n\n Philippi on tertiary species in Sicily, 312.\n\n Pictet, Professor:\n on groups of species suddenly appearing, 302, 305.\n on rate of organic change, 313.\n on continuous succession of genera, 316.\n on close alliance of fossils in consecutive formations, 335.\n on embryological succession, 338.\n\n Pierce, Mr., on varieties of wolves, 91.\n\n Pigeons:\n with feathered feet and skin between toes, 12.\n breeds described, and origin of, 20.\n breeds of, how produced, 39, 42.\n tumbler, not being able to get out of egg, 87.\n reverting to blue colour, 160.\n instinct of tumbling, 214.\n carriers, killed by hawks, 362.\n young of, 445.\n\n Pistil, rudimentary, 451.\n\n Plants:\n poisonous, not affecting certain coloured animals, 12.\n selection applied to, 32.\n gradual improvement of, 37.\n not improved in barbarous countries, 38.\n destroyed by insects, 67.\n in midst of range, have to struggle with other plants, 77.\n nectar of, 92,\n fleshy, on sea-shores, 132.\n fresh-water, distribution of, 386.\n low in scale, widely distributed, 406.\n\n Plumage, laws of change in sexes of birds, 89.\n\n Plums in the United States, 85.\n\n Pointer dog:\n origin of, 35.\n habits of, 213.\n\n Poison not affecting certain coloured animals, 12.\n\n Poison, similar effect of, on animals and plants, 484.\n\n Pollen of fir-trees, 203,\n\n Poole, Col., on striped hemionus, 163.\n\n Potamogeton, 387.\n\n Prestwich, Mr., on English and French eocene formations, 328.\n\n Primrose, 49.\n sterility of, 247.\n\n Primula, varieties of, 49.\n\n Proteolepas, 148.\n\n Proteus, 139.\n\n Psychology, future progress of, 488.\n\n Quagga, striped, 165.\n\n Quince, grafts of, 261.\n\n Rabbit, disposition of young, 215.\n\n Races, domestic, characters of, 16.\n\n Race-horses:\n Arab, 35.\n English, 356.\n\n Ramond on plants of Pyrenees, 368.\n\n Ramsay, Professor:\n on thickness of the British formations, 284.\n on faults, 285.\n\n Ratio of increase, 63.\n\n Rats:\n supplanting each other, 76.\n acclimatisation of, 141.\n blind in cave, 137.\n\n Rattle-snake, 201.\n\n Reason and instinct, 208.\n\n Recapitulation, general, 459.\n\n Reciprocity of crosses, 258.\n\n Record, geological, imperfect, 279.\n\n Rengger on flies destroying cattle, 72.\n\n Reproduction, rate of, 63.\n\n Resemblance to parents in mongrels and hybrids, 273.\n\n Reversion:\n law of inheritance, 14.\n in pigeons to blue colour, 160.\n\n Rhododendron, sterility of, 251.\n\n Richard, Professor, on Aspicarpa, 417.\n\n Richardson, Sir J.:\n on structure of squirrels, 180.\n on fishes of the southern hemisphere, 376.\n\n Robinia, grafts of, 262.\n\n Rodents, blind, 137.\n\n Rudimentary organs, 450.\n\n Rudiments important for classification, 416.\n\n Sageret on grafts, 262.\n\n Salmons, males fighting, and hooked jaws of, 88.\n\n Salt-water, how far injurious to seeds, 358.\n\n Saurophagus sulphuratus, 183.\n\n Schiodte on blind insects, 138.\n\n Schlegel on snakes, 144\n\n Sea-water, how far injurious to seeds, 358.\n\n Sebright, Sir J.:\n on crossed animals, 20.\n on selection of pigeons, 31.\n\n Sedgwick, Professor, on groups of species suddenly appearing, 302.\n\n Seedlings destroyed by insects, 67.\n\n Seeds:\n nutriment in, 77.\n winged, 146.\n power of resisting salt-water, 358.\n in crops and intestines of birds, 361.\n eaten by fish, 362, 387.\n in mud, 386.\n hooked, on islands, 392.\n\n Selection:\n of domestic products, 29.\n principle not of recent origin, 33.\n unconscious, 34.\n natural, 80.\n sexual, 87.\n natural, circumstances favourable to, 101,\n\n Sexes, relations of, 87.\n\n Sexual:\n characters variable, 156.\n selection, 87.\n\n Sheep:\n Merino, their selection, 31.\n two sub-breeds unintentionally produced, 36.\n mountain, varieties of, 76.\n\n Shells:\n colours of, 132.\n littoral, seldom embedded, 288.\n fresh-water, dispersal of, 385.\n of Madeira, 391,\n land, distribution of, 397.\n\n Silene, fertility of crosses, 257.\n\n Silliman, Professor, on blind rat, 137.\n\n Skulls of young mammals, 197, 437.\n\n Slave-making instinct, 219.\n\n Smith, Col. Hamilton, on striped horses, 164.\n\n Smith, Mr. Fred.:\n on slave-making ants, 219.\n on neuter ants, 239.\n\n Smith, Mr., of Jordan Hill, on the degradation of coast-rocks, 283.\n\n Snap-dragon, 161.\n\n Somerville, Lord, on selection of sheep, 31.\n\n Sorbus, grafts of, 262.\n\n Spaniel, King Charles's breed, 35.\n\n Species:\n polymorphic, 46.\n common, variable, 53.\n in large genera variable, 54.\n groups of, suddenly appearing, 302, 306.\n beneath Silurian formations, 306.\n successively appearing, 312.\n changing simultaneously throughout the world, 322.\n\n Spencer, Lord, on increase in size of cattle, 35.\n\n Sphex, parasitic, 218.\n\n Spiders, development of, 442.\n\n Spitz-dog crossed with fox, 268.\n\n Sports in plants, 9.\n\n Sprengel, C. C.:\n on crossing, 98.\n on ray-florets, 145.\n\n Squirrels, gradations in structure, 180.\n\n Staffordshire, heath, changes in, 72.\n\n Stag-beetles, fighting, 88.\n\n Sterility:\n from changed conditions of life, 9.\n of hybrids, 246.\n laws of, 254.\n causes of, 263.\n from unfavourable conditions, 265.\n of certain varieties, 269.\n\n St. Helena, productions of, 389.\n\n St. Hilaire, Aug., on classification, 418.\n\n St. John, Mr., on habits of cats, 91.\n\n Sting of bee, 202.\n\n Stocks, aboriginal, of domestic animals, 18,\n\n Strata, thickness of, in Britain, 284.\n\n Stripes on horses, 163.\n\n Structure, degrees of utility of, 201.\n\n Struggle for existence, 60.\n\n Succession, geological, 312.\n\n Succession of types in same areas, 338.\n\n Swallow, one species supplanting another, 76.\n\n Swim-bladder, 190.\n\n System, natural, 413.\n\n Tail:\n of giraffe, 195.\n of aquatic animals, 196.\n rudimentary, 454.\n\n Tarsi deficient, 135.\n\n Tausch on umbelliferous flowers, 146.\n\n Teeth and hair:\n correlated, 144.\n embryonic, traces of, in birds, 451.\n rudimentary, in embryonic calf, 450, 480.\n\n Tegetmeier, Mr., on cells of bees, 228, 233.\n\n Temminck on distribution aiding classification, 419.\n\n Thouin on grafts, 262.\n\n Thrush:\n aquatic species of, 185.\n mocking, of the Galapagos, 402.\n young of, spotted, 439.\n nest of, 243.\n\n Thuret, M., on crossed fuci, 258.\n\n Thwaites, Mr., on acclimatisation, 140.\n\n Tierra del Fuego:\n dogs of, 215.\n plants of, 374, 378.\n\n Timber-drift, 360.\n\n Time, lapse of, 282.\n\n Titmouse, 183.\n\n Toads on islands, 393.\n\n Tobacco, crossed varieties of, 271.\n\n Tomes, Mr., on the distribution of bats, 394.\n\n Transitions in varieties rare, 172.\n\n Trees:\n on islands belong to peculiar orders, 392.\n with separated sexes, 99.\n\n Trifolium pratense, 73, 94.\n\n Trifolium incarnatum, 94.\n\n Trigonia, 321.\n\n Trilobites, 306.\n sudden extinction of, 321,\n\n Troglodytes, 243.\n\n Tucutucu, blind, 137.\n\n Tumbler pigeons:\n habits of, hereditary, 214.\n young of, 446,\n\n Turkey-cock, brush of hair on breast, 90.\n\n Turkey:\n naked skin on head, 197.\n young, wild, 216.\n\n Turnip and cabbage, analogous variations of, 159.\n\n Type, unity of, 206.\n\n Types, succession of, in same areas, 338.\n\n Udders:\n enlarged by use, 11.\n rudimentary, 451.\n\n Ulex, young leaves of, 439.\n\n Umbelliferae, outer and inner florets of, 144.\n\n Unity of type, 206.\n\n Use:\n effects of, under domestication, 11.\n effects of, in a state of nature, 134.\n\n Utility, how far important in the construction of each part, 199.\n\n Valenciennes on fresh-water fish, 384.\n\n Variability of mongrels and hybrids, 274.\n\n Variation:\n under domestication, 7.\n caused by reproductive system being affected by conditions of life, 8.\n under nature, 44.\n laws of, 131.\n\n Variations:\n appear at corresponding ages, 14, 86.\n analogous in distinct species, 159.\n\n Varieties:\n natural, 44.\n struggle between, 75.\n domestic, extinction of, 111.\n transitional, rarity of, 172.\n when crossed, fertile, 267.\n when crossed, sterile, 269.\n classification of, 423.\n\n Verbascum:\n sterility of, 251.\n varieties of, crossed, 270.\n\n Verneuil, M. de, on the succession of species, 325.\n\n Viola tricolor, 73.\n\n Volcanic islands, denudation of, 284.\n\n Vulture, naked skin on head, 197.\n\n Wading-birds, 386.\n\n Wallace, Mr.:\n on origin of species, 2.\n on law of geographical distribution, 355.\n on the Malay Archipelago, 395.\n\n Wasp, sting of, 202.\n\n Water, fresh, productions of, 383.\n\n Water-hen, 185.\n\n Waterhouse, Mr.:\n on Australian marsupials, 116.\n on greatly developed parts being variable, 150.\n on the cells of bees, 225.\n on general affinities, 429.\n\n Water-ouzel, 185.\n\n Watson, Mr. H. C.:\n on range of varieties of British plants, 58.\n on acclimatisation, 140.\n on flora of Azores, 363.\n on Alpine plants, 367, 376.\n on rarity of intermediate varieties, 176.\n\n Weald, denudation of, 285.\n\n Web of feet in water-birds, 185.\n\n West Indian islands, mammals of, 395.\n\n Westwood:\n on species in large genera being closely allied to others, 57.\n on the tarsi of Engidae, 157.\n on the antennae of hymenopterous insects, 416.\n\n Whales, fossil, 303.\n\n Wheat, varieties of, 113.\n\n White Mountains, flora of, 365.\n\n Wings, reduction of size, 134.\n\n Wings:\n of insects homologous with branchiae, 191.\n rudimentary, in insects, 451.\n\n Wolf:\n crossed with dog, 214.\n of Falkland Isles, 393.\n\n Wollaston, Mr.:\n on varieties of insects, 48.\n on fossil varieties of land-shells in Madeira, 52.\n on colours of insects on sea-shore, 132.\n on wingless beetles, 135.\n on rarity of intermediate varieties, 176.\n on insular insects, 389.\n on land-shells of Madeira, naturalised, 402.\n\n Wolves, varieties of, 90.\n\n Woodpecker:\n habits of, 184.\n green colour of, 197.\n\n Woodward, Mr.:\n on the duration of specific forms, 293.\n on the continuous succession of genera, 316.\n on the succession of types, 339.\n\n World, species changing simultaneously throughout, 322.\n\n Wrens, nest of, 243.\n\n Youatt, Mr.:\n on selection, 31.\n on sub-breeds of sheep, 36.\n on rudimentary horns in young cattle, 454.\n\n Zebra, stripes on, 163.\n\n\n THE END.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's On the Origin of Species, by Charles Darwin\n\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES ***\n\n***** This file should be named 1228.txt or 1228.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\n http://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/2/1228/\n\nProduced by Sue Asscher\n\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\nwill be renamed.\n\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\npermission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Load a text version of “The Complete Works of Jane Austen” from our course data site (this is a text file based on one downloaded from Project Guttenberg, but cleaned up a bit).
library(curl)
library(stringr)
f <- curl("https://raw.githubusercontent.com/fuzzyatelin/fuzzyatelin.github.io/master/AN597_Fall17/complete_jane_austen.txt")
f <- scan(file = f, what = "character", sep = "") # read in text document... this function, separates every word
doc <- paste(f, collapse = " ") # collapses the complete text by spaces... creates a single long character string
docs <- str_split(doc, "THE END")[[1]] # splits the doc into a vector of docs
fileCorpus <- Corpus(VectorSource(docs)) # converts the split doc into a corpus of documents; within each document, content is a single character string
summary(fileCorpus)## Length Class Mode
## 1 2 PlainTextDocument list
## 2 2 PlainTextDocument list
## 3 2 PlainTextDocument list
## 4 2 PlainTextDocument list
## 5 2 PlainTextDocument list
## 6 2 PlainTextDocument list
## 7 2 PlainTextDocument list
## 8 2 PlainTextDocument list# inspect(fileCorpus)NOTE: The final document in this corpus has a length of 0 characters.
# to remove empty docs from corpus
for (i in 1:length(fileCorpus)) {
if (fileCorpus[[i]]$content == "") {
fileCorpus[[i]] <- NULL
}
}
titles <- c("Persuasion", "Northanger Abbey", "Mansfield Park", "Emma", "Love and Friendship and Other Early Works",
"Pride and Prejudice", "Sense and Sensibility")
for (i in 1:length(fileCorpus)) {
# this loop assigns titles to documents
fileCorpus[[i]]$meta$id <- titles[i]
}
fileCorpus[[1]]$meta # show the metadata for document 1## author : character(0)
## datetimestamp: 2017-11-19 14:43:40
## description : character(0)
## heading : character(0)
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## language : en
## origin : character(0)head(fileCorpus[[1]]$content) # show the start of document 1## [1] "PERSUASION by Jane Austen (1818) Chapter 1 Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. This was the page at which the favourite volume always opened: ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH HALL.\n\n Walter Elliot, born March 1, 1760, married, July 15, 1784, Elizabeth, daughter of James Stevenson, Esq. of South Park, in the county of Gloucester, by which lady (who died 1800) he has issue Elizabeth, born June 1, 1785; Anne, born August 9, 1787; a still-born son, November 5, 1789; Mary, born November 20, 1791.\" Precisely such had the paragraph originally stood from the printer's hands; but Sir Walter had improved it by adding, for the information of himself and his family, these words, after the date of Mary's birth-- Married, December 16, 1810, Charles, son and heir of Charles Musgrove,\nEsq. of Uppercross, in the county of Somerset, and by inserting most accurately the day of the month on which he had lost his wife. Then followed the history and rise of the ancient and respectable family, in the usual terms; how it had been first settled in Cheshire; how mentioned in Dugdale, serving the office of high sheriff, representing a borough in three successive parliaments, exertions of loyalty, and dignity of baronet, in the first year of Charles II, with all the Marys and Elizabeths they had married; forming altogether two handsome duodecimo pages, and concluding with the arms and motto:--\"Principal seat, Kellynch Hall, in the county of Somerset,\" and Sir Walter's handwriting again in this finale:-- Heir presumptive, William Walter Elliot, Esq., great grandson of the\nsecond Sir Walter. Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot's character; vanity of person and of situation. He had been remarkably handsome in his youth; and, at fifty-four, was still a very fine man. Few women could think more of their personal appearance than he did, nor could the valet of any new made lord be more delighted with the place he held in society. He considered the blessing of beauty as inferior only to the blessing of a baronetcy; and the Sir Walter Elliot, who united these gifts, was the constant object of his warmest respect and devotion. His good looks and his rank had one fair claim on his attachment; since to them he must have owed a wife of very superior character to any thing deserved by his own. Lady Elliot had been an excellent woman, sensible and amiable; whose judgement and conduct, if they might be pardoned the youthful infatuation which made her Lady Elliot, had never required indulgence afterwards.--She had humoured, or softened, or concealed his failings, and promoted his real respectability for seventeen years; and though not the very happiest being in the world herself, had found enough in her duties, her friends, and her children, to attach her to life, and make it no matter of indifference to her when she was called on to quit them.--Three girls, the two eldest sixteen and fourteen, was an awful legacy for a mother to bequeath, an awful charge rather, to confide to the authority and guidance of a conceited, silly father. She had, however, one very intimate friend, a sensible, deserving woman, who had been brought, by strong attachment to herself, to settle close by her, in the village of Kellynch; and on her kindness and advice, Lady Elliot mainly relied for the best help and maintenance of the good principles and instruction which she had been anxiously giving her daughters. This friend, and Sir Walter, did not marry, whatever might have been anticipated on that head by their acquaintance. Thirteen years had passed away since Lady Elliot's death, and they were still near neighbours and intimate friends, and one remained a widower, the other a widow. That Lady Russell, of steady age and character, and extremely well provided for, should have no thought of a second marriage, needs no apology to the public, which is rather apt to be unreasonably discontented when a woman does marry again, than when she does not; but Sir Walter's continuing in singleness requires explanation. Be it known then, that Sir Walter, like a good father, (having met with one or two private disappointments in very unreasonable applications), prided himself on remaining single for his dear daughters' sake. For one daughter, his eldest, he would really have given up any thing, which he had not been very much tempted to do. Elizabeth had succeeded, at sixteen, to all that was possible, of her mother's rights and consequence; and being very handsome, and very like himself, her influence had always been great, and they had gone on together most happily. His two other children were of very inferior value. Mary had acquired a little artificial importance, by becoming Mrs Charles Musgrove; but Anne, with an elegance of mind and sweetness of character, which must have placed her high with any people of real understanding, was nobody with either father or sister; her word had no weight, her convenience was always to give way--she was only Anne. To Lady Russell, indeed, she was a most dear and highly valued god-daughter, favourite, and friend. Lady Russell loved them all; but it was only in Anne that she could fancy the mother to revive again. A few years before, Anne Elliot had been a very pretty girl, but her bloom had vanished early; and as even in its height, her father had found little to admire in her, (so totally different were her delicate features and mild dark eyes from his own), there could be nothing in them, now that she was faded and thin, to excite his esteem. He had never indulged much hope, he had now none, of ever reading her name in any other page of his favourite work. All equality of alliance must rest with Elizabeth, for Mary had merely connected herself with an old country family of respectability and large fortune, and had therefore given all the honour and received none: Elizabeth would, one day or other, marry suitably. It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before; and, generally speaking, if there has been neither ill health nor anxiety, it is a time of life at which scarcely any charm is lost. It was so with Elizabeth, still the same handsome Miss Elliot that she had begun to be thirteen years ago, and Sir Walter might be excused, therefore, in forgetting her age, or, at least, be deemed only half a fool, for thinking himself and Elizabeth as blooming as ever, amidst the wreck of the good looks of everybody else; for he could plainly see how old all the rest of his family and acquaintance were growing. Anne haggard, Mary coarse, every face in the neighbourhood worsting, and the rapid increase of the crow's foot about Lady Russell's temples had long been a distress to him. Elizabeth did not quite equal her father in personal contentment. Thirteen years had seen her mistress of Kellynch Hall, presiding and directing with a self-possession and decision which could never have given the idea of her being younger than she was. For thirteen years had she been doing the honours, and laying down the domestic law at home, and leading the way to the chaise and four, and walking immediately after Lady Russell out of all the drawing-rooms and dining-rooms in the country. Thirteen winters' revolving frosts had seen her opening every ball of credit which a scanty neighbourhood afforded, and thirteen springs shewn their blossoms, as she travelled up to London with her father, for a few weeks' annual enjoyment of the great world. She had the remembrance of all this, she had the consciousness of being nine-and-twenty to give her some regrets and some apprehensions; she was fully satisfied of being still quite as handsome as ever, but she felt her approach to the years of danger, and would have rejoiced to be certain of being properly solicited by baronet-blood within the next twelvemonth or two. Then might she again take up the book of books with as much enjoyment as in her early youth, but now she liked it not. Always to be presented with the date of her own birth and see no marriage follow but that of a youngest sister, made the book an evil; and more than once, when her father had left it open on the table near her, had she closed it, with averted eyes, and pushed it away. She had had a disappointment, moreover, which that book, and especially the history of her own family, must ever present the remembrance of. The heir presumptive, the very William Walter Elliot, Esq., whose rights had been so generously supported by her father, had disappointed her. She had, while a very young girl, as soon as she had known him to be, in the event of her having no brother, the future baronet, meant to marry him, and her father had always meant that she should. He had not been known to them as a boy; but soon after Lady Elliot's death, Sir Walter had sought the acquaintance, and though his overtures had not been met with any warmth, he had persevered in seeking it, making allowance for the modest drawing-back of youth; and, in one of their spring excursions to London, when Elizabeth was in her first bloom, Mr Elliot had been forced into the introduction. He was at that time a very young man, just engaged in the study of the law; and Elizabeth found him extremely agreeable, and every plan in his favour was confirmed. He was invited to Kellynch Hall; he was talked of and expected all the rest of the year; but he never came. The following spring he was seen again in town, found equally agreeable, again encouraged, invited, and expected, and again he did not come; and the next tidings were that he was married. Instead of pushing his fortune in the line marked out for the heir of the house of Elliot, he had purchased independence by uniting himself to a rich woman of inferior birth. Sir Walter has resented it. As the head of the house, he felt that he ought to have been consulted, especially after taking the young man so publicly by the hand; For they must have been seen together, he observed, once at Tattersall's, and twice in the lobby of the House of\nCommons. His disapprobation was expressed, but apparently very little regarded. Mr Elliot had attempted no apology, and shewn himself as unsolicitous of being longer noticed by the family, as Sir Walter considered him unworthy of it: all acquaintance between them had ceased. This very awkward history of Mr Elliot was still, after an interval of several years, felt with anger by Elizabeth, who had liked the man for himself, and still more for being her father's heir, and whose strong family pride could see only in him a proper match for Sir Walter Elliot's eldest daughter. There was not a baronet from A to Z whom her feelings could have so willingly acknowledged as an equal. Yet so miserably had he conducted himself, that though she was at this present time (the summer of 1814) wearing black ribbons for his wife, she could not admit him to be worth thinking of again. The disgrace of his first marriage might, perhaps, as there was no reason to suppose it perpetuated by offspring, have been got over, had he not done worse; but he had, as by the accustomary intervention of kind friends, they had been informed, spoken most disrespectfully of them all, most slightingly and contemptuously of the very blood he belonged to, and the honours which were hereafter to be his own. This could not be pardoned. Such were Elizabeth Elliot's sentiments and sensations; such the cares to alloy, the agitations to vary, the sameness and the elegance, the prosperity and the nothingness of her scene of life; such the feelings to give interest to a long, uneventful residence in one country circle, to fill the vacancies which there were no habits of utility abroad, no talents or accomplishments for home, to occupy. But now, another occupation and solicitude of mind was beginning to be added to these. Her father was growing distressed for money. She knew, that when he now took up the Baronetage, it was to drive the heavy bills of his tradespeople, and the unwelcome hints of Mr Shepherd, his agent, from his thoughts. The Kellynch property was good, but not equal to Sir Walter's apprehension of the state required in its possessor. While Lady Elliot lived, there had been method, moderation, and economy, which had just kept him within his income; but with her had died all such right-mindedness, and from that period he had been constantly exceeding it. It had not been possible for him to spend less; he had done nothing but what Sir Walter Elliot was imperiously called on to do; but blameless as he was, he was not only growing dreadfully in debt, but was hearing of it so often, that it became vain to attempt concealing it longer, even partially, from his daughter. He had given her some hints of it the last spring in town; he had gone so far even as to say, Can we retrench? Does it occur to\nyou that there is any one article in which we can retrench? and Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom. But these measures, however good in themselves, were insufficient for the real extent of the evil, the whole of which Sir Walter found himself obliged to confess to her soon afterwards. Elizabeth had nothing to propose of deeper efficacy. She felt herself ill-used and unfortunate, as did her father; and they were neither of them able to devise any means of lessening their expenses without compromising their dignity, or relinquishing their comforts in a way not to be borne. There was only a small part of his estate that Sir Walter could dispose of; but had every acre been alienable, it would have made no difference. He had condescended to mortgage as far as he had the power, but he would never condescend to sell. No; he would never disgrace his name so far. The Kellynch estate should be transmitted whole and entire, as he had received it. Their two confidential friends, Mr Shepherd, who lived in the neighbouring market town, and Lady Russell, were called to advise them; and both father and daughter seemed to expect that something should be struck out by one or the other to remove their embarrassments and reduce their expenditure, without involving the loss of any indulgence of taste or pride. Chapter 2 Mr Shepherd, a civil, cautious lawyer, who, whatever might be his hold or his views on Sir Walter, would rather have the disagreeable prompted by anybody else, excused himself from offering the slightest hint, and only begged leave to recommend an implicit reference to the excellent judgement of Lady Russell, from whose known good sense he fully expected to have just such resolute measures advised as he meant to see finally adopted. Lady Russell was most anxiously zealous on the subject, and gave it much serious consideration. She was a woman rather of sound than of quick abilities, whose difficulties in coming to any decision in this instance were great, from the opposition of two leading principles. She was of strict integrity herself, with a delicate sense of honour; but she was as desirous of saving Sir Walter's feelings, as solicitous for the credit of the family, as aristocratic in her ideas of what was due to them, as anybody of sense and honesty could well be. She was a benevolent, charitable, good woman, and capable of strong attachments, most correct in her conduct, strict in her notions of decorum, and with manners that were held a standard of good-breeding. She had a cultivated mind, and was, generally speaking, rational and consistent; but she had prejudices on the side of ancestry; she had a value for rank and consequence, which blinded her a little to the faults of those who possessed them. Herself the widow of only a knight, she gave the dignity of a baronet all its due; and Sir Walter, independent of his claims as an old acquaintance, an attentive neighbour, an obliging landlord, the husband of her very dear friend, the father of Anne and her sisters, was, as being Sir Walter, in her apprehension, entitled to a great deal of compassion and consideration under his present difficulties. They must retrench; that did not admit of a doubt. But she was very anxious to have it done with the least possible pain to him and Elizabeth. She drew up plans of economy, she made exact calculations, and she did what nobody else thought of doing: she consulted Anne, who never seemed considered by the others as having any interest in the question. She consulted, and in a degree was influenced by her in marking out the scheme of retrenchment which was at last submitted to Sir Walter. Every emendation of Anne's had been on the side of honesty against importance. She wanted more vigorous measures, a more complete reformation, a quicker release from debt, a much higher tone of indifference for everything but justice and equity. If we can persuade your father to all this, said Lady Russell, looking over her paper, much may be done. If he will adopt these\nregulations, in seven years he will be clear; and I hope we may be able\nto convince him and Elizabeth, that Kellynch Hall has a respectability\nin itself which cannot be affected by these reductions; and that the\ntrue dignity of Sir Walter Elliot will be very far from lessened in the\neyes of sensible people, by acting like a man of principle. What will\nhe be doing, in fact, but what very many of our first families have\ndone, or ought to do? There will be nothing singular in his case; and\nit is singularity which often makes the worst part of our suffering, as\nit always does of our conduct. I have great hope of prevailing. We\nmust be serious and decided; for after all, the person who has\ncontracted debts must pay them; and though a great deal is due to the\nfeelings of the gentleman, and the head of a house, like your father,\nthere is still more due to the character of an honest man. This was the principle on which Anne wanted her father to be proceeding, his friends to be urging him. She considered it as an act of indispensable duty to clear away the claims of creditors with all the expedition which the most comprehensive retrenchments could secure, and saw no dignity in anything short of it. She wanted it to be prescribed, and felt as a duty. She rated Lady Russell's influence highly; and as to the severe degree of self-denial which her own conscience prompted, she believed there might be little more difficulty in persuading them to a complete, than to half a reformation. Her knowledge of her father and Elizabeth inclined her to think that the sacrifice of one pair of horses would be hardly less painful than of both, and so on, through the whole list of Lady Russell's too gentle reductions. How Anne's more rigid requisitions might have been taken is of little consequence. Lady Russell's had no success at all: could not be put up with, were not to be borne. What! every comfort of life knocked off!\nJourneys, London, servants, horses, table--contractions and\nrestrictions every where! To live no longer with the decencies even of\na private gentleman! No, he would sooner quit Kellynch Hall at once,\nthan remain in it on such disgraceful terms. Quit Kellynch Hall. The hint was immediately taken up by Mr Shepherd, whose interest was involved in the reality of Sir Walter's retrenching, and who was perfectly persuaded that nothing would be done without a change of abode. Since the idea had been started in the\nvery quarter which ought to dictate, he had no scruple, he said, in\nconfessing his judgement to be entirely on that side. It did not\nappear to him that Sir Walter could materially alter his style of\nliving in a house which had such a character of hospitality and ancient\ndignity to support. In any other place Sir Walter might judge for\nhimself; and would be looked up to, as regulating the modes of life in\nwhatever way he might choose to model his household. Sir Walter would quit Kellynch Hall; and after a very few days more of doubt and indecision, the great question of whither he should go was settled, and the first outline of this important change made out. There had been three alternatives, London, Bath, or another house in the country. All Anne's wishes had been for the latter. A small house in their own neighbourhood, where they might still have Lady Russell's society, still be near Mary, and still have the pleasure of sometimes seeing the lawns and groves of Kellynch, was the object of her ambition. But the usual fate of Anne attended her, in having something very opposite from her inclination fixed on. She disliked Bath, and did not think it agreed with her; and Bath was to be her home. Sir Walter had at first thought more of London; but Mr Shepherd felt that he could not be trusted in London, and had been skilful enough to dissuade him from it, and make Bath preferred. It was a much safer place for a gentleman in his predicament: he might there be important at comparatively little expense. Two material advantages of Bath over London had of course been given all their weight: its more convenient distance from Kellynch, only fifty miles, and Lady Russell's spending some part of every winter there; and to the very great satisfaction of Lady Russell, whose first views on the projected change had been for Bath, Sir Walter and Elizabeth were induced to believe that they should lose neither consequence nor enjoyment by settling there. Lady Russell felt obliged to oppose her dear Anne's known wishes. It would be too much to expect Sir Walter to descend into a small house in his own neighbourhood. Anne herself would have found the mortifications of it more than she foresaw, and to Sir Walter's feelings they must have been dreadful. And with regard to Anne's dislike of Bath, she considered it as a prejudice and mistake arising, first, from the circumstance of her having been three years at school there, after her mother's death; and secondly, from her happening to be not in perfectly good spirits the only winter which she had afterwards spent there with herself. Lady Russell was fond of Bath, in short, and disposed to think it must suit them all; and as to her young friend's health, by passing all the warm months with her at Kellynch Lodge, every danger would be avoided; and it was in fact, a change which must do both health and spirits good. Anne had been too little from home, too little seen. Her spirits were not high. A larger society would improve them. She wanted her to be more known. The undesirableness of any other house in the same neighbourhood for Sir Walter was certainly much strengthened by one part, and a very material part of the scheme, which had been happily engrafted on the beginning. He was not only to quit his home, but to see it in the hands of others; a trial of fortitude, which stronger heads than Sir Walter's have found too much. Kellynch Hall was to be let. This, however, was a profound secret, not to be breathed beyond their own circle. Sir Walter could not have borne the degradation of being known to design letting his house. Mr Shepherd had once mentioned the word advertise, but never dared approach it again. Sir Walter spurned the idea of its being offered in any manner; forbad the slightest hint being dropped of his having such an intention; and it was only on the supposition of his being spontaneously solicited by some most unexceptionable applicant, on his own terms, and as a great favour, that he would let it at all. How quick come the reasons for approving what we like! Lady Russell had another excellent one at hand, for being extremely glad that Sir Walter and his family were to remove from the country. Elizabeth had been lately forming an intimacy, which she wished to see interrupted. It was with the daughter of Mr Shepherd, who had returned, after an unprosperous marriage, to her father's house, with the additional burden of two children. She was a clever young woman, who understood the art of pleasing--the art of pleasing, at least, at Kellynch Hall; and who had made herself so acceptable to Miss Elliot, as to have been already staying there more than once, in spite of all that Lady Russell, who thought it a friendship quite out of place, could hint of caution and reserve. Lady Russell, indeed, had scarcely any influence with Elizabeth, and seemed to love her, rather because she would love her, than because Elizabeth deserved it. She had never received from her more than outward attention, nothing beyond the observances of complaisance; had never succeeded in any point which she wanted to carry, against previous inclination. She had been repeatedly very earnest in trying to get Anne included in the visit to London, sensibly open to all the injustice and all the discredit of the selfish arrangements which shut her out, and on many lesser occasions had endeavoured to give Elizabeth the advantage of her own better judgement and experience; but always in vain: Elizabeth would go her own way; and never had she pursued it in more decided opposition to Lady Russell than in this selection of Mrs Clay; turning from the society of so deserving a sister, to bestow her affection and confidence on one who ought to have been nothing to her but the object of distant civility. From situation, Mrs Clay was, in Lady Russell's estimate, a very unequal, and in her character she believed a very dangerous companion; and a removal that would leave Mrs Clay behind, and bring a choice of more suitable intimates within Miss Elliot's reach, was therefore an object of first-rate importance. Chapter 3 I must take leave to observe, Sir Walter, said Mr Shepherd one morning at Kellynch Hall, as he laid down the newspaper, that the\npresent juncture is much in our favour. This peace will be turning all\nour rich naval officers ashore. They will be all wanting a home.\nCould not be a better time, Sir Walter, for having a choice of tenants,\nvery responsible tenants. Many a noble fortune has been made during\nthe war. If a rich admiral were to come in our way, Sir Walter-- He would be a very lucky man, Shepherd, replied Sir Walter; that's\nall I have to remark. A prize indeed would Kellynch Hall be to him;\nrather the greatest prize of all, let him have taken ever so many\nbefore; hey, Shepherd? Mr Shepherd laughed, as he knew he must, at this wit, and then added-- I presume to observe, Sir Walter, that, in the way of business,\ngentlemen of the navy are well to deal with. I have had a little\nknowledge of their methods of doing business; and I am free to confess\nthat they have very liberal notions, and are as likely to make\ndesirable tenants as any set of people one should meet with.\nTherefore, Sir Walter, what I would take leave to suggest is, that if\nin consequence of any rumours getting abroad of your intention; which\nmust be contemplated as a possible thing, because we know how difficult\nit is to keep the actions and designs of one part of the world from the\nnotice and curiosity of the other; consequence has its tax; I, John\nShepherd, might conceal any family-matters that I chose, for nobody\nwould think it worth their while to observe me; but Sir Walter Elliot\nhas eyes upon him which it may be very difficult to elude; and\ntherefore, thus much I venture upon, that it will not greatly surprise\nme if, with all our caution, some rumour of the truth should get\nabroad; in the supposition of which, as I was going to observe, since\napplications will unquestionably follow, I should think any from our\nwealthy naval commanders particularly worth attending to; and beg leave\nto add, that two hours will bring me over at any time, to save you the\ntrouble of replying. Sir Walter only nodded. But soon afterwards, rising and pacing the room, he observed sarcastically-- There are few among the gentlemen of the navy, I imagine, who would\nnot be surprised to find themselves in a house of this description. They would look around them, no doubt, and bless their good fortune, said Mrs Clay, for Mrs Clay was present: her father had driven her over, nothing being of so much use to Mrs Clay's health as a drive to Kellynch: but I quite agree with my father in thinking a sailor might\nbe a very desirable tenant. I have known a good deal of the\nprofession; and besides their liberality, they are so neat and careful\nin all their ways! These valuable pictures of yours, Sir Walter, if\nyou chose to leave them, would be perfectly safe. Everything in and\nabout the house would be taken such excellent care of! The gardens and\nshrubberies would be kept in almost as high order as they are now. You\nneed not be afraid, Miss Elliot, of your own sweet flower gardens being\nneglected. As to all that, rejoined Sir Walter coolly, supposing I were induced\nto let my house, I have by no means made up my mind as to the\nprivileges to be annexed to it. I am not particularly disposed to\nfavour a tenant. The park would be open to him of course, and few navy\nofficers, or men of any other description, can have had such a range;\nbut what restrictions I might impose on the use of the\npleasure-grounds, is another thing. I am not fond of the idea of my\nshrubberies being always approachable; and I should recommend Miss\nElliot to be on her guard with respect to her flower garden. I am very\nlittle disposed to grant a tenant of Kellynch Hall any extraordinary\nfavour, I assure you, be he sailor or soldier. After a short pause, Mr Shepherd presumed to say-- In all these cases, there are established usages which make everything\nplain and easy between landlord and tenant. Your interest, Sir Walter,\nis in pretty safe hands. Depend upon me for taking care that no tenant\nhas more than his just rights. I venture to hint, that Sir Walter\nElliot cannot be half so jealous for his own, as John Shepherd will be\nfor him. Here Anne spoke-- The navy, I think, who have done so much for us, have at least an\nequal claim with any other set of men, for all the comforts and all the\nprivileges which any home can give. Sailors work hard enough for their\ncomforts, we must all allow. Very true, very true. What Miss Anne says, is very true, was Mr Shepherd's rejoinder, and Oh! certainly, was his daughter's; but Sir Walter's remark was, soon afterwards-- The profession has its utility, but I should be sorry to see any\nfriend of mine belonging to it. Indeed! was the reply, and with a look of surprise. Yes; it is in two points offensive to me; I have two strong grounds of\nobjection to it. First, as being the means of bringing persons of\nobscure birth into undue distinction, and raising men to honours which\ntheir fathers and grandfathers never dreamt of; and secondly, as it\ncuts up a man's youth and vigour most horribly; a sailor grows old\nsooner than any other man. I have observed it all my life. A man is\nin greater danger in the navy of being insulted by the rise of one\nwhose father, his father might have disdained to speak to, and of\nbecoming prematurely an object of disgust himself, than in any other\nline. One day last spring, in town, I was in company with two men,\nstriking instances of what I am talking of; Lord St Ives, whose father\nwe all know to have been a country curate, without bread to eat; I was\nto give place to Lord St Ives, and a certain Admiral Baldwin, the most\ndeplorable-looking personage you can imagine; his face the colour of\nmahogany, rough and rugged to the last degree; all lines and wrinkles,\nnine grey hairs of a side, and nothing but a dab of powder at top. 'In\nthe name of heaven, who is that old fellow?' said I to a friend of mine\nwho was standing near, (Sir Basil Morley). 'Old fellow!' cried Sir\nBasil, 'it is Admiral Baldwin. What do you take his age to be?'\n'Sixty,' said I, 'or perhaps sixty-two.' 'Forty,' replied Sir Basil,\n'forty, and no more.' Picture to yourselves my amazement; I shall not\neasily forget Admiral Baldwin. I never saw quite so wretched an\nexample of what a sea-faring life can do; but to a degree, I know it is\nthe same with them all: they are all knocked about, and exposed to\nevery climate, and every weather, till they are not fit to be seen. It\nis a pity they are not knocked on the head at once, before they reach\nAdmiral Baldwin's age. Nay, Sir Walter, cried Mrs Clay, this is being severe indeed. Have\na little mercy on the poor men. We are not all born to be handsome.\nThe sea is no beautifier, certainly; sailors do grow old betimes; I\nhave observed it; they soon lose the look of youth. But then, is not\nit the same with many other professions, perhaps most other? Soldiers,\nin active service, are not at all better off: and even in the quieter\nprofessions, there is a toil and a labour of the mind, if not of the\nbody, which seldom leaves a man's looks to the natural effect of time.\nThe lawyer plods, quite care-worn; the physician is up at all hours,\nand travelling in all weather; and even the clergyman-- she stopt a moment to consider what might do for the clergyman;--\"and even the clergyman, you know is obliged to go into infected rooms, and expose his health and looks to all the injury of a poisonous atmosphere. In fact, as I have long been convinced, though every profession is necessary and honourable in its turn, it is only the lot of those who are not obliged to follow any, who can live in a regular way, in the country, choosing their own hours, following their own pursuits, and living on their own property, without the torment of trying for more; it is only their lot, I say, to hold the blessings of health and a good appearance to the utmost: I know no other set of men but what lose something of their personableness when they cease to be quite young.\" It seemed as if Mr Shepherd, in this anxiety to bespeak Sir Walter's good will towards a naval officer as tenant, had been gifted with foresight; for the very first application for the house was from an Admiral Croft, with whom he shortly afterwards fell into company in attending the quarter sessions at Taunton; and indeed, he had received a hint of the Admiral from a London correspondent. By the report which he hastened over to Kellynch to make, Admiral Croft was a native of Somersetshire, who having acquired a very handsome fortune, was wishing to settle in his own country, and had come down to Taunton in order to look at some advertised places in that immediate neighbourhood, which, however, had not suited him; that accidentally hearing--(it was just as he had foretold, Mr Shepherd observed, Sir Walter's concerns could not be kept a secret,)--accidentally hearing of the possibility of Kellynch Hall being to let, and understanding his (Mr Shepherd's) connection with the owner, he had introduced himself to him in order to make particular inquiries, and had, in the course of a pretty long conference, expressed as strong an inclination for the place as a man who knew it only by description could feel; and given Mr Shepherd, in his explicit account of himself, every proof of his being a most responsible, eligible tenant. And who is Admiral Croft? was Sir Walter's cold suspicious inquiry. Mr Shepherd answered for his being of a gentleman's family, and mentioned a place; and Anne, after the little pause which followed, added-- He is a rear admiral of the white. He was in the Trafalgar action,\nand has been in the East Indies since; he was stationed there, I\nbelieve, several years. Then I take it for granted, observed Sir Walter, that his face is\nabout as orange as the cuffs and capes of my livery. Mr Shepherd hastened to assure him, that Admiral Croft was a very hale, hearty, well-looking man, a little weather-beaten, to be sure, but not much, and quite the gentleman in all his notions and behaviour; not likely to make the smallest difficulty about terms, only wanted a comfortable home, and to get into it as soon as possible; knew he must pay for his convenience; knew what rent a ready-furnished house of that consequence might fetch; should not have been surprised if Sir Walter had asked more; had inquired about the manor; would be glad of the deputation, certainly, but made no great point of it; said he sometimes took out a gun, but never killed; quite the gentleman. Mr Shepherd was eloquent on the subject; pointing out all the circumstances of the Admiral's family, which made him peculiarly desirable as a tenant. He was a married man, and without children; the very state to be wished for. A house was never taken good care of, Mr Shepherd observed, without a lady: he did not know, whether furniture might not be in danger of suffering as much where there was no lady, as where there were many children. A lady, without a family, was the very best preserver of furniture in the world. He had seen Mrs Croft, too; she was at Taunton with the admiral, and had been present almost all the time they were talking the matter over. And a very well-spoken, genteel, shrewd lady, she seemed to be, continued he; asked more questions about the house, and terms, and\ntaxes, than the Admiral himself, and seemed more conversant with\nbusiness; and moreover, Sir Walter, I found she was not quite\nunconnected in this country, any more than her husband; that is to say,\nshe is sister to a gentleman who did live amongst us once; she told me\nso herself: sister to the gentleman who lived a few years back at\nMonkford. Bless me! what was his name? At this moment I cannot\nrecollect his name, though I have heard it so lately. Penelope, my\ndear, can you help me to the name of the gentleman who lived at\nMonkford: Mrs Croft's brother? But Mrs Clay was talking so eagerly with Miss Elliot, that she did not hear the appeal. I have no conception whom you can mean, Shepherd; I remember no\ngentleman resident at Monkford since the time of old Governor Trent. Bless me! how very odd! I shall forget my own name soon, I suppose.\nA name that I am so very well acquainted with; knew the gentleman so\nwell by sight; seen him a hundred times; came to consult me once, I\nremember, about a trespass of one of his neighbours; farmer's man\nbreaking into his orchard; wall torn down; apples stolen; caught in the\nfact; and afterwards, contrary to my judgement, submitted to an\namicable compromise. Very odd indeed! After waiting another moment-- You mean Mr Wentworth, I suppose? said Anne. Mr Shepherd was all gratitude. Wentworth was the very name! Mr Wentworth was the very man. He had\nthe curacy of Monkford, you know, Sir Walter, some time back, for two\nor three years. Came there about the year ---5, I take it. You\nremember him, I am sure. Wentworth? Oh! ay,--Mr Wentworth, the curate of Monkford. You misled\nme by the term gentleman. I thought you were speaking of some man of\nproperty: Mr Wentworth was nobody, I remember; quite unconnected;\nnothing to do with the Strafford family. One wonders how the names of\nmany of our nobility become so common. As Mr Shepherd perceived that this connexion of the Crofts did them no service with Sir Walter, he mentioned it no more; returning, with all his zeal, to dwell on the circumstances more indisputably in their favour; their age, and number, and fortune; the high idea they had formed of Kellynch Hall, and extreme solicitude for the advantage of renting it; making it appear as if they ranked nothing beyond the happiness of being the tenants of Sir Walter Elliot: an extraordinary taste, certainly, could they have been supposed in the secret of Sir Walter's estimate of the dues of a tenant. It succeeded, however; and though Sir Walter must ever look with an evil eye on anyone intending to inhabit that house, and think them infinitely too well off in being permitted to rent it on the highest terms, he was talked into allowing Mr Shepherd to proceed in the treaty, and authorising him to wait on Admiral Croft, who still remained at Taunton, and fix a day for the house being seen. Sir Walter was not very wise; but still he had experience enough of the world to feel, that a more unobjectionable tenant, in all essentials, than Admiral Croft bid fair to be, could hardly offer. So far went his understanding; and his vanity supplied a little additional soothing, in the Admiral's situation in life, which was just high enough, and not too high. I have let my house to Admiral Croft, would sound extremely well; very much better than to any mere Mr--; a Mr (save, perhaps, some half dozen in the nation,) always needs a note of explanation. An admiral speaks his own consequence, and, at the same time, can never make a baronet look small. In all their dealings and intercourse, Sir Walter Elliot must ever have the precedence. Nothing could be done without a reference to Elizabeth: but her inclination was growing so strong for a removal, that she was happy to have it fixed and expedited by a tenant at hand; and not a word to suspend decision was uttered by her. Mr Shepherd was completely empowered to act; and no sooner had such an end been reached, than Anne, who had been a most attentive listener to the whole, left the room, to seek the comfort of cool air for her flushed cheeks; and as she walked along a favourite grove, said, with a gentle sigh, A few months more, and he, perhaps, may be walking here. Chapter 4 He was not Mr Wentworth, the former curate of Monkford, however suspicious appearances may be, but a Captain Frederick Wentworth, his brother, who being made commander in consequence of the action off St Domingo, and not immediately employed, had come into Somersetshire, in the summer of 1806; and having no parent living, found a home for half a year at Monkford. He was, at that time, a remarkably fine young man, with a great deal of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy; and Anne an extremely pretty girl, with gentleness, modesty, taste, and feeling. Half the sum of attraction, on either side, might have been enough, for he had nothing to do, and she had hardly anybody to love; but the encounter of such lavish recommendations could not fail. They were gradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly and deeply in love. It would be difficult to say which had seen highest perfection in the other, or which had been the happiest: she, in receiving his declarations and proposals, or he in having them accepted. A short period of exquisite felicity followed, and but a short one. Troubles soon arose. Sir Walter, on being applied to, without actually withholding his consent, or saying it should never be, gave it all the negative of great astonishment, great coldness, great silence, and a professed resolution of doing nothing for his daughter. He thought it a very degrading alliance; and Lady Russell, though with more tempered and pardonable pride, received it as a most unfortunate one. Anne Elliot, with all her claims of birth, beauty, and mind, to throw herself away at nineteen; involve herself at nineteen in an engagement with a young man, who had nothing but himself to recommend him, and no hopes of attaining affluence, but in the chances of a most uncertain profession, and no connexions to secure even his farther rise in the profession, would be, indeed, a throwing away, which she grieved to think of! Anne Elliot, so young; known to so few, to be snatched off by a stranger without alliance or fortune; or rather sunk by him into a state of most wearing, anxious, youth-killing dependence! It must not be, if by any fair interference of friendship, any representations from one who had almost a mother's love, and mother's rights, it would be prevented. Captain Wentworth had no fortune. He had been lucky in his profession; but spending freely, what had come freely, had realized nothing. But he was confident that he should soon be rich: full of life and ardour, he knew that he should soon have a ship, and soon be on a station that would lead to everything he wanted. He had always been lucky; he knew he should be so still. Such confidence, powerful in its own warmth, and bewitching in the wit which often expressed it, must have been enough for Anne; but Lady Russell saw it very differently. His sanguine temper, and fearlessness of mind, operated very differently on her. She saw in it but an aggravation of the evil. It only added a dangerous character to himself. He was brilliant, he was headstrong. Lady Russell had little taste for wit, and of anything approaching to imprudence a horror. She deprecated the connexion in every light. Such opposition, as these feelings produced, was more than Anne could combat. Young and gentle as she was, it might yet have been possible to withstand her father's ill-will, though unsoftened by one kind word or look on the part of her sister; but Lady Russell, whom she had always loved and relied on, could not, with such steadiness of opinion, and such tenderness of manner, be continually advising her in vain. She was persuaded to believe the engagement a wrong thing: indiscreet, improper, hardly capable of success, and not deserving it. But it was not a merely selfish caution, under which she acted, in putting an end to it. Had she not imagined herself consulting his good, even more than her own, she could hardly have given him up. The belief of being prudent, and self-denying, principally for his advantage, was her chief consolation, under the misery of a parting, a final parting; and every consolation was required, for she had to encounter all the additional pain of opinions, on his side, totally unconvinced and unbending, and of his feeling himself ill used by so forced a relinquishment. He had left the country in consequence. A few months had seen the beginning and the end of their acquaintance; but not with a few months ended Anne's share of suffering from it. Her attachment and regrets had, for a long time, clouded every enjoyment of youth, and an early loss of bloom and spirits had been their lasting effect. More than seven years were gone since this little history of sorrowful interest had reached its close; and time had softened down much, perhaps nearly all of peculiar attachment to him, but she had been too dependent on time alone; no aid had been given in change of place (except in one visit to Bath soon after the rupture), or in any novelty or enlargement of society. No one had ever come within the Kellynch circle, who could bear a comparison with Frederick Wentworth, as he stood in her memory. No second attachment, the only thoroughly natural, happy, and sufficient cure, at her time of life, had been possible to the nice tone of her mind, the fastidiousness of her taste, in the small limits of the society around them. She had been solicited, when about two-and-twenty, to change her name, by the young man, who not long afterwards found a more willing mind in her younger sister; and Lady Russell had lamented her refusal; for Charles Musgrove was the eldest son of a man, whose landed property and general importance were second in that country, only to Sir Walter's, and of good character and appearance; and however Lady Russell might have asked yet for something more, while Anne was nineteen, she would have rejoiced to see her at twenty-two so respectably removed from the partialities and injustice of her father's house, and settled so permanently near herself. But in this case, Anne had left nothing for advice to do; and though Lady Russell, as satisfied as ever with her own discretion, never wished the past undone, she began now to have the anxiety which borders on hopelessness for Anne's being tempted, by some man of talents and independence, to enter a state for which she held her to be peculiarly fitted by her warm affections and domestic habits. They knew not each other's opinion, either its constancy or its change, on the one leading point of Anne's conduct, for the subject was never alluded to; but Anne, at seven-and-twenty, thought very differently from what she had been made to think at nineteen. She did not blame Lady Russell, she did not blame herself for having been guided by her; but she felt that were any young person, in similar circumstances, to apply to her for counsel, they would never receive any of such certain immediate wretchedness, such uncertain future good. She was persuaded that under every disadvantage of disapprobation at home, and every anxiety attending his profession, all their probable fears, delays, and disappointments, she should yet have been a happier woman in maintaining the engagement, than she had been in the sacrifice of it; and this, she fully believed, had the usual share, had even more than the usual share of all such solicitudes and suspense been theirs, without reference to the actual results of their case, which, as it happened, would have bestowed earlier prosperity than could be reasonably calculated on. All his sanguine expectations, all his confidence had been justified. His genius and ardour had seemed to foresee and to command his prosperous path. He had, very soon after their engagement ceased, got employ: and all that he had told her would follow, had taken place. He had distinguished himself, and early gained the other step in rank, and must now, by successive captures, have made a handsome fortune. She had only navy lists and newspapers for her authority, but she could not doubt his being rich; and, in favour of his constancy, she had no reason to believe him married. How eloquent could Anne Elliot have been! how eloquent, at least, were her wishes on the side of early warm attachment, and a cheerful confidence in futurity, against that over-anxious caution which seems to insult exertion and distrust Providence! She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning. With all these circumstances, recollections and feelings, she could not hear that Captain Wentworth's sister was likely to live at Kellynch without a revival of former pain; and many a stroll, and many a sigh, were necessary to dispel the agitation of the idea. She often told herself it was folly, before she could harden her nerves sufficiently to feel the continual discussion of the Crofts and their business no evil. She was assisted, however, by that perfect indifference and apparent unconsciousness, among the only three of her own friends in the secret of the past, which seemed almost to deny any recollection of it. She could do justice to the superiority of Lady Russell's motives in this, over those of her father and Elizabeth; she could honour all the better feelings of her calmness; but the general air of oblivion among them was highly important from whatever it sprung; and in the event of Admiral Croft's really taking Kellynch Hall, she rejoiced anew over the conviction which had always been most grateful to her, of the past being known to those three only among her connexions, by whom no syllable, she believed, would ever be whispered, and in the trust that among his, the brother only with whom he had been residing, had received any information of their short-lived engagement. That brother had been long removed from the country and being a sensible man, and, moreover, a single man at the time, she had a fond dependence on no human creature's having heard of it from him. The sister, Mrs Croft, had then been out of England, accompanying her husband on a foreign station, and her own sister, Mary, had been at school while it all occurred; and never admitted by the pride of some, and the delicacy of others, to the smallest knowledge of it afterwards. With these supports, she hoped that the acquaintance between herself and the Crofts, which, with Lady Russell, still resident in Kellynch, and Mary fixed only three miles off, must be anticipated, need not involve any particular awkwardness. Chapter 5 On the morning appointed for Admiral and Mrs Croft's seeing Kellynch Hall, Anne found it most natural to take her almost daily walk to Lady Russell's, and keep out of the way till all was over; when she found it most natural to be sorry that she had missed the opportunity of seeing them. This meeting of the two parties proved highly satisfactory, and decided the whole business at once. Each lady was previously well disposed for an agreement, and saw nothing, therefore, but good manners in the other; and with regard to the gentlemen, there was such an hearty good humour, such an open, trusting liberality on the Admiral's side, as could not but influence Sir Walter, who had besides been flattered into his very best and most polished behaviour by Mr Shepherd's assurances of his being known, by report, to the Admiral, as a model of good breeding. The house and grounds, and furniture, were approved, the Crofts were approved, terms, time, every thing, and every body, was right; and Mr Shepherd's clerks were set to work, without there having been a single preliminary difference to modify of all that This indenture sheweth. Sir Walter, without hesitation, declared the Admiral to be the best-looking sailor he had ever met with, and went so far as to say, that if his own man might have had the arranging of his hair, he should not be ashamed of being seen with him any where; and the Admiral, with sympathetic cordiality, observed to his wife as they drove back through the park, I thought we should soon come to a deal, my dear, in spite\nof what they told us at Taunton. The Baronet will never set the Thames\non fire, but there seems to be no harm in him. --reciprocal compliments, which would have been esteemed about equal. The Crofts were to have possession at Michaelmas; and as Sir Walter proposed removing to Bath in the course of the preceding month, there was no time to be lost in making every dependent arrangement. Lady Russell, convinced that Anne would not be allowed to be of any use, or any importance, in the choice of the house which they were going to secure, was very unwilling to have her hurried away so soon, and wanted to make it possible for her to stay behind till she might convey her to Bath herself after Christmas; but having engagements of her own which must take her from Kellynch for several weeks, she was unable to give the full invitation she wished, and Anne though dreading the possible heats of September in all the white glare of Bath, and grieving to forego all the influence so sweet and so sad of the autumnal months in the country, did not think that, everything considered, she wished to remain. It would be most right, and most wise, and, therefore must involve least suffering to go with the others. Something occurred, however, to give her a different duty. Mary, often a little unwell, and always thinking a great deal of her own complaints, and always in the habit of claiming Anne when anything was the matter, was indisposed; and foreseeing that she should not have a day's health all the autumn, entreated, or rather required her, for it was hardly entreaty, to come to Uppercross Cottage, and bear her company as long as she should want her, instead of going to Bath. I cannot possibly do without Anne, was Mary's reasoning; and Elizabeth's reply was, Then I am sure Anne had better stay, for nobody\nwill want her in Bath. To be claimed as a good, though in an improper style, is at least better than being rejected as no good at all; and Anne, glad to be thought of some use, glad to have anything marked out as a duty, and certainly not sorry to have the scene of it in the country, and her own dear country, readily agreed to stay. This invitation of Mary's removed all Lady Russell's difficulties, and it was consequently soon settled that Anne should not go to Bath till Lady Russell took her, and that all the intervening time should be divided between Uppercross Cottage and Kellynch Lodge. So far all was perfectly right; but Lady Russell was almost startled by the wrong of one part of the Kellynch Hall plan, when it burst on her, which was, Mrs Clay's being engaged to go to Bath with Sir Walter and Elizabeth, as a most important and valuable assistant to the latter in all the business before her. Lady Russell was extremely sorry that such a measure should have been resorted to at all, wondered, grieved, and feared; and the affront it contained to Anne, in Mrs Clay's being of so much use, while Anne could be of none, was a very sore aggravation. Anne herself was become hardened to such affronts; but she felt the imprudence of the arrangement quite as keenly as Lady Russell. With a great deal of quiet observation, and a knowledge, which she often wished less, of her father's character, she was sensible that results the most serious to his family from the intimacy were more than possible. She did not imagine that her father had at present an idea of the kind. Mrs Clay had freckles, and a projecting tooth, and a clumsy wrist, which he was continually making severe remarks upon, in her absence; but she was young, and certainly altogether well-looking, and possessed, in an acute mind and assiduous pleasing manners, infinitely more dangerous attractions than any merely personal might have been. Anne was so impressed by the degree of their danger, that she could not excuse herself from trying to make it perceptible to her sister. She had little hope of success; but Elizabeth, who in the event of such a reverse would be so much more to be pitied than herself, should never, she thought, have reason to reproach her for giving no warning. She spoke, and seemed only to offend. Elizabeth could not conceive how such an absurd suspicion should occur to her, and indignantly answered for each party's perfectly knowing their situation. Mrs Clay, said she, warmly, never forgets who she is; and as I am\nrather better acquainted with her sentiments than you can be, I can\nassure you, that upon the subject of marriage they are particularly\nnice, and that she reprobates all inequality of condition and rank more\nstrongly than most people. And as to my father, I really should not\nhave thought that he, who has kept himself single so long for our\nsakes, need be suspected now. If Mrs Clay were a very beautiful woman,\nI grant you, it might be wrong to have her so much with me; not that\nanything in the world, I am sure, would induce my father to make a\ndegrading match, but he might be rendered unhappy. But poor Mrs Clay\nwho, with all her merits, can never have been reckoned tolerably\npretty, I really think poor Mrs Clay may be staying here in perfect\nsafety. One would imagine you had never heard my father speak of her\npersonal misfortunes, though I know you must fifty times. That tooth\nof her's and those freckles. Freckles do not disgust me so very much\nas they do him. I have known a face not materially disfigured by a\nfew, but he abominates them. You must have heard him notice Mrs Clay's\nfreckles. There is hardly any personal defect, replied Anne, which an\nagreeable manner might not gradually reconcile one to. I think very differently, answered Elizabeth, shortly; an agreeable\nmanner may set off handsome features, but can never alter plain ones.\nHowever, at any rate, as I have a great deal more at stake on this\npoint than anybody else can have, I think it rather unnecessary in you\nto be advising me. Anne had done; glad that it was over, and not absolutely hopeless of doing good. Elizabeth, though resenting the suspicion, might yet be made observant by it. The last office of the four carriage-horses was to draw Sir Walter, Miss Elliot, and Mrs Clay to Bath. The party drove off in very good spirits; Sir Walter prepared with condescending bows for all the afflicted tenantry and cottagers who might have had a hint to show themselves, and Anne walked up at the same time, in a sort of desolate tranquillity, to the Lodge, where she was to spend the first week. Her friend was not in better spirits than herself. Lady Russell felt this break-up of the family exceedingly. Their respectability was as dear to her as her own, and a daily intercourse had become precious by habit. It was painful to look upon their deserted grounds, and still worse to anticipate the new hands they were to fall into; and to escape the solitariness and the melancholy of so altered a village, and be out of the way when Admiral and Mrs Croft first arrived, she had determined to make her own absence from home begin when she must give up Anne. Accordingly their removal was made together, and Anne was set down at Uppercross Cottage, in the first stage of Lady Russell's journey. Uppercross was a moderate-sized village, which a few years back had been completely in the old English style, containing only two houses superior in appearance to those of the yeomen and labourers; the mansion of the squire, with its high walls, great gates, and old trees, substantial and unmodernized, and the compact, tight parsonage, enclosed in its own neat garden, with a vine and a pear-tree trained round its casements; but upon the marriage of the young squire, it had\nreceived the improvement of a farm-house elevated into a cottage, for\nhis residence, and Uppercross Cottage, with its veranda, French\nwindows, and other prettiness, was quite as likely to catch the\ntraveller s eye as the more consistent and considerable aspect and premises of the Great House, about a quarter of a mile farther on. Here Anne had often been staying. She knew the ways of Uppercross as well as those of Kellynch. The two families were so continually meeting, so much in the habit of running in and out of each other's house at all hours, that it was rather a surprise to her to find Mary alone; but being alone, her being unwell and out of spirits was almost a matter of course. Though better endowed than the elder sister, Mary had not Anne's understanding nor temper. While well, and happy, and properly attended to, she had great good humour and excellent spirits; but any indisposition sunk her completely. She had no resources for solitude; and inheriting a considerable share of the Elliot self-importance, was very prone to add to every other distress that of fancying herself neglected and ill-used. In person, she was inferior to both sisters, and had, even in her bloom, only reached the dignity of being a fine girl. She was now lying on the faded sofa of the pretty little drawing-room, the once elegant furniture of which had been gradually growing shabby, under the influence of four summers and two children; and, on Anne's appearing, greeted her with-- So, you are come at last! I began to think I should never see you. I\nam so ill I can hardly speak. I have not seen a creature the whole\nmorning! I am sorry to find you unwell, replied Anne. You sent me such a\ngood account of yourself on Thursday! Yes, I made the best of it; I always do: but I was very far from well\nat the time; and I do not think I ever was so ill in my life as I have\nbeen all this morning: very unfit to be left alone, I am sure.\nSuppose I were to be seized of a sudden in some dreadful way, and not\nable to ring the bell! So, Lady Russell would not get out. I do not\nthink she has been in this house three times this summer. Anne said what was proper, and enquired after her husband. Oh!\nCharles is out shooting. I have not seen him since seven o'clock. He\nwould go, though I told him how ill I was. He said he should not stay\nout long; but he has never come back, and now it is almost one. I\nassure you, I have not seen a soul this whole long morning. You have had your little boys with you? Yes, as long as I could bear their noise; but they are so unmanageable\nthat they do me more harm than good. Little Charles does not mind a\nword I say, and Walter is growing quite as bad. Well, you will soon be better now, replied Anne, cheerfully. You\nknow I always cure you when I come. How are your neighbours at the\nGreat House? I can give you no account of them. I have not seen one of them\nto-day, except Mr Musgrove, who just stopped and spoke through the\nwindow, but without getting off his horse; and though I told him how\nill I was, not one of them have been near me. It did not happen to\nsuit the Miss Musgroves, I suppose, and they never put themselves out\nof their way. You will see them yet, perhaps, before the morning is gone. It is\nearly. I never want them, I assure you. They talk and laugh a great deal too\nmuch for me. Oh! Anne, I am so very unwell! It was quite unkind of\nyou not to come on Thursday. My dear Mary, recollect what a comfortable account you sent me of\nyourself! You wrote in the cheerfullest manner, and said you were\nperfectly well, and in no hurry for me; and that being the case, you\nmust be aware that my wish would be to remain with Lady Russell to the\nlast: and besides what I felt on her account, I have really been so\nbusy, have had so much to do, that I could not very conveniently have\nleft Kellynch sooner. Dear me! what can you possibly have to do? A great many things, I assure you. More than I can recollect in a\nmoment; but I can tell you some. I have been making a duplicate of the\ncatalogue of my father's books and pictures. I have been several times\nin the garden with Mackenzie, trying to understand, and make him\nunderstand, which of Elizabeth's plants are for Lady Russell. I have\nhad all my own little concerns to arrange, books and music to divide,\nand all my trunks to repack, from not having understood in time what\nwas intended as to the waggons: and one thing I have had to do, Mary,\nof a more trying nature: going to almost every house in the parish, as\na sort of take-leave. I was told that they wished it. But all these\nthings took up a great deal of time. Oh! well! and after a moment's pause, but you have never asked me\none word about our dinner at the Pooles yesterday. Did you go then? I have made no enquiries, because I concluded you\nmust have been obliged to give up the party. Oh yes! I went. I was very well yesterday; nothing at all the matter\nwith me till this morning. It would have been strange if I had not\ngone. I am very glad you were well enough, and I hope you had a pleasant\nparty. Nothing remarkable. One always knows beforehand what the dinner will\nbe, and who will be there; and it is so very uncomfortable not having a\ncarriage of one's own. Mr and Mrs Musgrove took me, and we were so\ncrowded! They are both so very large, and take up so much room; and Mr\nMusgrove always sits forward. So, there was I, crowded into the back\nseat with Henrietta and Louise; and I think it very likely that my\nillness to-day may be owing to it. A little further perseverance in patience and forced cheerfulness on Anne's side produced nearly a cure on Mary's. She could soon sit upright on the sofa, and began to hope she might be able to leave it by dinner-time. Then, forgetting to think of it, she was at the other end of the room, beautifying a nosegay; then, she ate her cold meat; and then she was well enough to propose a little walk. Where shall we go? said she, when they were ready. I suppose you\nwill not like to call at the Great House before they have been to see\nyou? I have not the smallest objection on that account, replied Anne. I\nshould never think of standing on such ceremony with people I know so\nwell as Mrs and the Miss Musgroves. Oh! but they ought to call upon you as soon as possible. They ought\nto feel what is due to you as my sister. However, we may as well go\nand sit with them a little while, and when we have that over, we can\nenjoy our walk. Anne had always thought such a style of intercourse highly imprudent; but she had ceased to endeavour to check it, from believing that, though there were on each side continual subjects of offence, neither family could now do without it. To the Great House accordingly they went, to sit the full half hour in the old-fashioned square parlour, with a small carpet and shining floor, to which the present daughters of the house were gradually giving the proper air of confusion by a grand piano-forte and a harp, flower-stands and little tables placed in every direction. Oh! could the originals of the portraits against the wainscot, could the gentlemen in brown velvet and the ladies in blue satin have seen what was going on, have been conscious of such an overthrow of all order and neatness! The portraits themselves seemed to be staring in astonishment. The Musgroves, like their houses, were in a state of alteration, perhaps of improvement. The father and mother were in the old English style, and the young people in the new. Mr and Mrs Musgrove were a very good sort of people; friendly and hospitable, not much educated, and not at all elegant. Their children had more modern minds and manners. There was a numerous family; but the only two grown up, excepting Charles, were Henrietta and Louisa, young ladies of nineteen and twenty, who had brought from school at Exeter all the usual stock of accomplishments, and were now like thousands of other young ladies, living to be fashionable, happy, and merry. Their dress had every advantage, their faces were rather pretty, their spirits extremely good, their manner unembarrassed and pleasant; they were of consequence at home, and favourites abroad. Anne always contemplated them as some of the happiest creatures of her acquaintance; but still, saved as we all are, by some comfortable feeling of superiority from wishing for the possibility of exchange, she would not have given up her own more elegant and cultivated mind for all their enjoyments; and envied them nothing but that seemingly perfect good understanding and agreement together, that good-humoured mutual affection, of which she had known so little herself with either of her sisters. They were received with great cordiality. Nothing seemed amiss on the side of the Great House family, which was generally, as Anne very well knew, the least to blame. The half hour was chatted away pleasantly enough; and she was not at all surprised at the end of it, to have their walking party joined by both the Miss Musgroves, at Mary's particular invitation. Chapter 6 Anne had not wanted this visit to Uppercross, to learn that a removal from one set of people to another, though at a distance of only three miles, will often include a total change of conversation, opinion, and idea. She had never been staying there before, without being struck by it, or without wishing that other Elliots could have her advantage in seeing how unknown, or unconsidered there, were the affairs which at Kellynch Hall were treated as of such general publicity and pervading interest; yet, with all this experience, she believed she must now submit to feel that another lesson, in the art of knowing our own nothingness beyond our own circle, was become necessary for her; for certainly, coming as she did, with a heart full of the subject which had been completely occupying both houses in Kellynch for many weeks, she had expected rather more curiosity and sympathy than she found in the separate but very similar remark of Mr and Mrs Musgrove: So, Miss\nAnne, Sir Walter and your sister are gone; and what part of Bath do you\nthink they will settle in? and this, without much waiting for an answer; or in the young ladies' addition of, I hope we shall be in\nBath in the winter; but remember, papa, if we do go, we must be in a\ngood situation: none of your Queen Squares for us! or in the anxious supplement from Mary, of--\"Upon my word, I shall be pretty well off, when you are all gone away to be happy at Bath!\" She could only resolve to avoid such self-delusion in future, and think with heightened gratitude of the extraordinary blessing of having one such truly sympathising friend as Lady Russell. The Mr Musgroves had their own game to guard, and to destroy, their own horses, dogs, and newspapers to engage them, and the females were fully occupied in all the other common subjects of housekeeping, neighbours, dress, dancing, and music. She acknowledged it to be very fitting, that every little social commonwealth should dictate its own matters of discourse; and hoped, ere long, to become a not unworthy member of the one she was now transplanted into. With the prospect of spending at least two months at Uppercross, it was highly incumbent on her to clothe her imagination, her memory, and all her ideas in as much of Uppercross as possible. She had no dread of these two months. Mary was not so repulsive and unsisterly as Elizabeth, nor so inaccessible to all influence of hers; neither was there anything among the other component parts of the cottage inimical to comfort. She was always on friendly terms with her brother-in-law; and in the children, who loved her nearly as well, and respected her a great deal more than their mother, she had an object of interest, amusement, and wholesome exertion. Charles Musgrove was civil and agreeable; in sense and temper he was undoubtedly superior to his wife, but not of powers, or conversation, or grace, to make the past, as they were connected together, at all a dangerous contemplation; though, at the same time, Anne could believe, with Lady Russell, that a more equal match might have greatly improved him; and that a woman of real understanding might have given more consequence to his character, and more usefulness, rationality, and elegance to his habits and pursuits. As it was, he did nothing with much zeal, but sport; and his time was otherwise trifled away, without benefit from books or anything else. He had very good spirits, which never seemed much affected by his wife's occasional lowness, bore with her unreasonableness sometimes to Anne's admiration, and upon the whole, though there was very often a little disagreement (in which she had sometimes more share than she wished, being appealed to by both parties), they might pass for a happy couple. They were always perfectly agreed in the want of more money, and a strong inclination for a handsome present from his father; but here, as on most topics, he had the superiority, for while Mary thought it a great shame that such a present was not made, he always contended for his father's having many other uses for his money, and a right to spend it as he liked. As to the management of their children, his theory was much better than his wife's, and his practice not so bad. I could manage them very\nwell, if it were not for Mary's interference, was what Anne often heard him say, and had a good deal of faith in; but when listening in turn to Mary's reproach of Charles spoils the children so that I\ncannot get them into any order, she never had the smallest temptation to say, Very true. One of the least agreeable circumstances of her residence there was her being treated with too much confidence by all parties, and being too much in the secret of the complaints of each house. Known to have some influence with her sister, she was continually requested, or at least receiving hints to exert it, beyond what was practicable. I wish you\ncould persuade Mary not to be always fancying herself ill, was Charles's language; and, in an unhappy mood, thus spoke Mary: I do\nbelieve if Charles were to see me dying, he would not think there was\nanything the matter with me. I am sure, Anne, if you would, you might\npersuade him that I really am very ill--a great deal worse than I ever\nown. Mary's declaration was, I hate sending the children to the Great\nHouse, though their grandmamma is always wanting to see them, for she\nhumours and indulges them to such a degree, and gives them so much\ntrash and sweet things, that they are sure to come back sick and cross\nfor the rest of the day. And Mrs Musgrove took the first opportunity of being alone with Anne, to say, Oh! Miss Anne, I cannot help wishing\nMrs Charles had a little of your method with those children. They are\nquite different creatures with you! But to be sure, in general they\nare so spoilt! It is a pity you cannot put your sister in the way of\nmanaging them. They are as fine healthy children as ever were seen,\npoor little dears! without partiality; but Mrs Charles knows no more\nhow they should be treated--! Bless me! how troublesome they are\nsometimes. I assure you, Miss Anne, it prevents my wishing to see them\nat our house so often as I otherwise should. I believe Mrs Charles is\nnot quite pleased with my not inviting them oftener; but you know it is\nvery bad to have children with one that one is obligated to be checking\nevery moment; don't do this,\" and don't do that; or that one can only keep in tolerable order by more cake than is good for them.\" She had this communication, moreover, from Mary. Mrs Musgrove thinks\nall her servants so steady, that it would be high treason to call it in\nquestion; but I am sure, without exaggeration, that her upper\nhouse-maid and laundry-maid, instead of being in their business, are\ngadding about the village, all day long. I meet them wherever I go;\nand I declare, I never go twice into my nursery without seeing\nsomething of them. If Jemima were not the trustiest, steadiest\ncreature in the world, it would be enough to spoil her; for she tells\nme, they are always tempting her to take a walk with them. And on Mrs Musgrove's side, it was, I make a rule of never interfering in any of\nmy daughter-in-law's concerns, for I know it would not do; but I shall\ntell you, Miss Anne, because you may be able to set things to rights,\nthat I have no very good opinion of Mrs Charles's nursery-maid: I hear\nstrange stories of her; she is always upon the gad; and from my own\nknowledge, I can declare, she is such a fine-dressing lady, that she is\nenough to ruin any servants she comes near. Mrs Charles quite swears\nby her, I know; but I just give you this hint, that you may be upon the\nwatch; because, if you see anything amiss, you need not be afraid of\nmentioning it. Again, it was Mary's complaint, that Mrs Musgrove was very apt not to give her the precedence that was her due, when they dined at the Great House with other families; and she did not see any reason why she was to be considered so much at home as to lose her place. And one day when Anne was walking with only the Musgroves, one of them after talking of rank, people of rank, and jealousy of rank, said, I have no\nscruple of observing to you, how nonsensical some persons are about\ntheir place, because all the world knows how easy and indifferent you\nare about it; but I wish anybody could give Mary a hint that it would\nbe a great deal better if she were not so very tenacious, especially if\nshe would not be always putting herself forward to take place of mamma.\nNobody doubts her right to have precedence of mamma, but it would be\nmore becoming in her not to be always insisting on it. It is not that\nmamma cares about it the least in the world, but I know it is taken\nnotice of by many persons. How was Anne to set all these matters to rights? She could do little more than listen patiently, soften every grievance, and excuse each to the other; give them all hints of the forbearance necessary between such near neighbours, and make those hints broadest which were meant for her sister's benefit. In all other respects, her visit began and proceeded very well. Her own spirits improved by change of place and subject, by being removed three miles from Kellynch; Mary's ailments lessened by having a constant companion, and their daily intercourse with the other family, since there was neither superior affection, confidence, nor employment in the cottage, to be interrupted by it, was rather an advantage. It was certainly carried nearly as far as possible, for they met every morning, and hardly ever spent an evening asunder; but she believed they should not have done so well without the sight of Mr and Mrs Musgrove's respectable forms in the usual places, or without the talking, laughing, and singing of their daughters. She played a great deal better than either of the Miss Musgroves, but having no voice, no knowledge of the harp, and no fond parents, to sit by and fancy themselves delighted, her performance was little thought of, only out of civility, or to refresh the others, as she was well aware. She knew that when she played she was giving pleasure only to herself; but this was no new sensation. Excepting one short period of her life, she had never, since the age of fourteen, never since the loss of her dear mother, known the happiness of being listened to, or encouraged by any just appreciation or real taste. In music she had been always used to feel alone in the world; and Mr and Mrs Musgrove's fond partiality for their own daughters' performance, and total indifference to any other person's, gave her much more pleasure for their sakes, than mortification for her own. The party at the Great House was sometimes increased by other company. The neighbourhood was not large, but the Musgroves were visited by everybody, and had more dinner-parties, and more callers, more visitors by invitation and by chance, than any other family. There were more completely popular. The girls were wild for dancing; and the evenings ended, occasionally, in an unpremeditated little ball. There was a family of cousins within a walk of Uppercross, in less affluent circumstances, who depended on the Musgroves for all their pleasures: they would come at any time, and help play at anything, or dance anywhere; and Anne, very much preferring the office of musician to a more active post, played country dances to them by the hour together; a kindness which always recommended her musical powers to the notice of Mr and Mrs Musgrove more than anything else, and often drew this compliment;--\"Well done, Miss Anne! very well done indeed! Lord bless me! how those little fingers of yours fly about!\" So passed the first three weeks. Michaelmas came; and now Anne's heart must be in Kellynch again. A beloved home made over to others; all the precious rooms and furniture, groves, and prospects, beginning to own other eyes and other limbs! She could not think of much else on the 29th of September; and she had this sympathetic touch in the evening from Mary, who, on having occasion to note down the day of the month, exclaimed, Dear me, is not this the day the Crofts were to come to\nKellynch? I am glad I did not think of it before. How low it makes\nme! The Crofts took possession with true naval alertness, and were to be visited. Mary deplored the necessity for herself. Nobody knew how\nmuch she should suffer. She should put it off as long as she could; but was not easy till she had talked Charles into driving her over on an early day, and was in a very animated, comfortable state of imaginary agitation, when she came back. Anne had very sincerely rejoiced in there being no means of her going. She wished, however to see the Crofts, and was glad to be within when the visit was returned. They came: the master of the house was not at home, but the two sisters were together; and as it chanced that Mrs Croft fell to the share of Anne, while the Admiral sat by Mary, and made himself very agreeable by his good-humoured notice of her little boys, she was well able to watch for a likeness, and if it failed her in the features, to catch it in the voice, or in the turn of sentiment and expression. Mrs Croft, though neither tall nor fat, had a squareness, uprightness, and vigour of form, which gave importance to her person. She had bright dark eyes, good teeth, and altogether an agreeable face; though her reddened and weather-beaten complexion, the consequence of her having been almost as much at sea as her husband, made her seem to have lived some years longer in the world than her real eight-and-thirty. Her manners were open, easy, and decided, like one who had no distrust of herself, and no doubts of what to do; without any approach to coarseness, however, or any want of good humour. Anne gave her credit, indeed, for feelings of great consideration towards herself, in all that related to Kellynch, and it pleased her: especially, as she had satisfied herself in the very first half minute, in the instant even of introduction, that there was not the smallest symptom of any knowledge or suspicion on Mrs Croft's side, to give a bias of any sort. She was quite easy on that head, and consequently full of strength and courage, till for a moment electrified by Mrs Croft's suddenly saying,-- It was you, and not your sister, I find, that my brother had the\npleasure of being acquainted with, when he was in this country. Anne hoped she had outlived the age of blushing; but the age of emotion she certainly had not. Perhaps you may not have heard that he is married? added Mrs Croft. She could now answer as she ought; and was happy to feel, when Mrs Croft's next words explained it to be Mr Wentworth of whom she spoke, that she had said nothing which might not do for either brother. She immediately felt how reasonable it was, that Mrs Croft should be thinking and speaking of Edward, and not of Frederick; and with shame at her own forgetfulness applied herself to the knowledge of their former neighbour's present state with proper interest. The rest was all tranquillity; till, just as they were moving, she heard the Admiral say to Mary-- We are expecting a brother of Mrs Croft's here soon; I dare say you\nknow him by name. He was cut short by the eager attacks of the little boys, clinging to him like an old friend, and declaring he should not go; and being too much engrossed by proposals of carrying them away in his coat pockets, &c., to have another moment for finishing or recollecting what he had begun, Anne was left to persuade herself, as well as she could, that the same brother must still be in question. She could not, however, reach such a degree of certainty, as not to be anxious to hear whether anything had been said on the subject at the other house, where the Crofts had previously been calling. The folks of the Great House were to spend the evening of this day at the Cottage; and it being now too late in the year for such visits to be made on foot, the coach was beginning to be listened for, when the youngest Miss Musgrove walked in. That she was coming to apologize, and that they should have to spend the evening by themselves, was the first black idea; and Mary was quite ready to be affronted, when Louisa made all right by saying, that she only came on foot, to leave more room for the harp, which was bringing in the carriage. And I will tell you our reason, she added, and all about it. I am\ncome on to give you notice, that papa and mamma are out of spirits this\nevening, especially mamma; she is thinking so much of poor Richard!\nAnd we agreed it would be best to have the harp, for it seems to amuse\nher more than the piano-forte. I will tell you why she is out of\nspirits. When the Crofts called this morning, (they called here\nafterwards, did not they?), they happened to say, that her brother,\nCaptain Wentworth, is just returned to England, or paid off, or\nsomething, and is coming to see them almost directly; and most\nunluckily it came into mamma's head, when they were gone, that\nWentworth, or something very like it, was the name of poor Richard's\ncaptain at one time; I do not know when or where, but a great while\nbefore he died, poor fellow! And upon looking over his letters and\nthings, she found it was so, and is perfectly sure that this must be\nthe very man, and her head is quite full of it, and of poor Richard!\nSo we must be as merry as we can, that she may not be dwelling upon\nsuch gloomy things. The real circumstances of this pathetic piece of family history were, that the Musgroves had had the ill fortune of a very troublesome, hopeless son; and the good fortune to lose him before he reached his twentieth year; that he had been sent to sea because he was stupid and unmanageable on shore; that he had been very little cared for at any time by his family, though quite as much as he deserved; seldom heard of, and scarcely at all regretted, when the intelligence of his death abroad had worked its way to Uppercross, two years before. He had, in fact, though his sisters were now doing all they could for him, by calling him poor Richard, been nothing better than a thick-headed, unfeeling, unprofitable Dick Musgrove, who had never done anything to entitle himself to more than the abbreviation of his name, living or dead. He had been several years at sea, and had, in the course of those removals to which all midshipmen are liable, and especially such midshipmen as every captain wishes to get rid of, been six months on board Captain Frederick Wentworth's frigate, the Laconia; and from the Laconia he had, under the influence of his captain, written the only two letters which his father and mother had ever received from him during the whole of his absence; that is to say, the only two disinterested letters; all the rest had been mere applications for money. In each letter he had spoken well of his captain; but yet, so little were they in the habit of attending to such matters, so unobservant and incurious were they as to the names of men or ships, that it had made scarcely any impression at the time; and that Mrs Musgrove should have been suddenly struck, this very day, with a recollection of the name of Wentworth, as connected with her son, seemed one of those extraordinary bursts of mind which do sometimes occur. She had gone to her letters, and found it all as she supposed; and the re-perusal of these letters, after so long an interval, her poor son gone for ever, and all the strength of his faults forgotten, had affected her spirits exceedingly, and thrown her into greater grief for him than she had known on first hearing of his death. Mr Musgrove was, in a lesser degree, affected likewise; and when they reached the cottage, they were evidently in want, first, of being listened to anew on this subject, and afterwards, of all the relief which cheerful companions could give them. To hear them talking so much of Captain Wentworth, repeating his name so often, puzzling over past years, and at last ascertaining that it might, that it probably would, turn out to be the very same Captain Wentworth whom they recollected meeting, once or twice, after their coming back from Clifton--a very fine young man--but they could not say whether it was seven or eight years ago, was a new sort of trial to Anne's nerves. She found, however, that it was one to which she must inure herself. Since he actually was expected in the country, she must teach herself to be insensible on such points. And not only did it appear that he was expected, and speedily, but the Musgroves, in their warm gratitude for the kindness he had shewn poor Dick, and very high respect for his character, stamped as it was by poor Dick's having been six months under his care, and mentioning him in strong, though not perfectly well-spelt praise, as a fine dashing felow, only two\nperticular about the schoolmaster, were bent on introducing themselves, and seeking his acquaintance, as soon as they could hear of his arrival. The resolution of doing so helped to form the comfort of their evening. Chapter 7 A very few days more, and Captain Wentworth was known to be at Kellynch, and Mr Musgrove had called on him, and come back warm in his praise, and he was engaged with the Crofts to dine at Uppercross, by the end of another week. It had been a great disappointment to Mr Musgrove to find that no earlier day could be fixed, so impatient was he to shew his gratitude, by seeing Captain Wentworth under his own roof, and welcoming him to all that was strongest and best in his cellars. But a week must pass; only a week, in Anne's reckoning, and then, she supposed, they must meet; and soon she began to wish that she could feel secure even for a week. Captain Wentworth made a very early return to Mr Musgrove's civility, and she was all but calling there in the same half hour. She and Mary were actually setting forward for the Great House, where, as she afterwards learnt, they must inevitably have found him, when they were stopped by the eldest boy's being at that moment brought home in consequence of a bad fall. The child's situation put the visit entirely aside; but she could not hear of her escape with indifference, even in the midst of the serious anxiety which they afterwards felt on his account. His collar-bone was found to be dislocated, and such injury received in the back, as roused the most alarming ideas. It was an afternoon of distress, and Anne had every thing to do at once; the apothecary to send for, the father to have pursued and informed, the mother to support and keep from hysterics, the servants to control, the youngest child to banish, and the poor suffering one to attend and soothe; besides sending, as soon as she recollected it, proper notice to the other house, which brought her an accession rather of frightened, enquiring companions, than of very useful assistants. Her brother's return was the first comfort; he could take best care of his wife; and the second blessing was the arrival of the apothecary. Till he came and had examined the child, their apprehensions were the worse for being vague; they suspected great injury, but knew not where; but now the collar-bone was soon replaced, and though Mr Robinson felt and felt, and rubbed, and looked grave, and spoke low words both to the father and the aunt, still they were all to hope the best, and to be able to part and eat their dinner in tolerable ease of mind; and then it was, just before they parted, that the two young aunts were able so far to digress from their nephew's state, as to give the information of Captain Wentworth's visit; staying five minutes behind their father and mother, to endeavour to express how perfectly delighted they were with him, how much handsomer, how infinitely more agreeable they thought him than any individual among their male acquaintance, who had been at all a favourite before. How glad they had been to hear papa invite him to stay dinner, how sorry when he said it was quite out of his power, and how glad again when he had promised in reply to papa and mamma's farther pressing invitations to come and dine with them on the morrow--actually on the morrow; and he had promised it in so pleasant a manner, as if he felt all the motive of their attention just as he ought. And in short, he had looked and said everything with such exquisite grace, that they could assure them all, their heads were both turned by him; and off they ran, quite as full of glee as of love, and apparently more full of Captain Wentworth than of little Charles. The same story and the same raptures were repeated, when the two girls came with their father, through the gloom of the evening, to make enquiries; and Mr Musgrove, no longer under the first uneasiness about his heir, could add his confirmation and praise, and hope there would be now no occasion for putting Captain Wentworth off, and only be sorry to think that the cottage party, probably, would not like to leave the little boy, to give him the meeting. Oh no; as to leaving the little\nboy, both father and mother were in much too strong and recent alarm to bear the thought; and Anne, in the joy of the escape, could not help adding her warm protestations to theirs. Charles Musgrove, indeed, afterwards, shewed more of inclination; the\nchild was going on so well, and he wished so much to be introduced to\nCaptain Wentworth, that, perhaps, he might join them in the evening; he\nwould not dine from home, but he might walk in for half an hour. But in this he was eagerly opposed by his wife, with Oh! no, indeed,\nCharles, I cannot bear to have you go away. Only think if anything\nshould happen? The child had a good night, and was going on well the next day. It must be a work of time to ascertain that no injury had been done to the spine; but Mr Robinson found nothing to increase alarm, and Charles Musgrove began, consequently, to feel no necessity for longer confinement. The child was to be kept in bed and amused as quietly as possible; but what was there for a father to do? This was quite a female case, and it would be highly absurd in him, who could be of no use at home, to shut himself up. His father very much wished him to meet Captain Wentworth, and there being no sufficient reason against it, he ought to go; and it ended in his making a bold, public declaration, when he came in from shooting, of his meaning to dress directly, and dine at the other house. Nothing can be going on better than the child, said he; so I told my\nfather, just now, that I would come, and he thought me quite right.\nYour sister being with you, my love, I have no scruple at all. You\nwould not like to leave him yourself, but you see I can be of no use.\nAnne will send for me if anything is the matter. Husbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain. Mary knew, from Charles's manner of speaking, that he was quite determined on going, and that it would be of no use to teaze him. She said nothing, therefore, till he was out of the room, but as soon as there was only Anne to hear-- So you and I are to be left to shift by ourselves, with this poor sick\nchild; and not a creature coming near us all the evening! I knew how\nit would be. This is always my luck. If there is anything\ndisagreeable going on men are always sure to get out of it, and Charles\nis as bad as any of them. Very unfeeling! I must say it is very\nunfeeling of him to be running away from his poor little boy. Talks of\nhis being going on so well! How does he know that he is going on well,\nor that there may not be a sudden change half an hour hence? I did not\nthink Charles would have been so unfeeling. So here he is to go away\nand enjoy himself, and because I am the poor mother, I am not to be\nallowed to stir; and yet, I am sure, I am more unfit than anybody else\nto be about the child. My being the mother is the very reason why my\nfeelings should not be tried. I am not at all equal to it. You saw\nhow hysterical I was yesterday. But that was only the effect of the suddenness of your alarm--of the\nshock. You will not be hysterical again. I dare say we shall have\nnothing to distress us. I perfectly understand Mr Robinson's\ndirections, and have no fears; and indeed, Mary, I cannot wonder at\nyour husband. Nursing does not belong to a man; it is not his\nprovince. A sick child is always the mother's property: her own\nfeelings generally make it so. I hope I am as fond of my child as any mother, but I do not know that\nI am of any more use in the sick-room than Charles, for I cannot be\nalways scolding and teazing the poor child when it is ill; and you saw,\nthis morning, that if I told him to keep quiet, he was sure to begin\nkicking about. I have not nerves for the sort of thing. But, could you be comfortable yourself, to be spending the whole\nevening away from the poor boy? Yes; you see his papa can, and why should not I? Jemima is so\ncareful; and she could send us word every hour how he was. I really\nthink Charles might as well have told his father we would all come. I\nam not more alarmed about little Charles now than he is. I was\ndreadfully alarmed yesterday, but the case is very different to-day. Well, if you do not think it too late to give notice for yourself,\nsuppose you were to go, as well as your husband. Leave little Charles\nto my care. Mr and Mrs Musgrove cannot think it wrong while I remain\nwith him. Are you serious? cried Mary, her eyes brightening. Dear me! that's\na very good thought, very good, indeed. To be sure, I may just as well\ngo as not, for I am of no use at home--am I? and it only harasses me.\nYou, who have not a mother's feelings, are a great deal the properest\nperson. You can make little Charles do anything; he always minds you\nat a word. It will be a great deal better than leaving him only with\nJemima. Oh! I shall certainly go; I am sure I ought if I can, quite as\nmuch as Charles, for they want me excessively to be acquainted with\nCaptain Wentworth, and I know you do not mind being left alone. An\nexcellent thought of yours, indeed, Anne. I will go and tell Charles,\nand get ready directly. You can send for us, you know, at a moment's\nnotice, if anything is the matter; but I dare say there will be nothing\nto alarm you. I should not go, you may be sure, if I did not feel\nquite at ease about my dear child. The next moment she was tapping at her husband's dressing-room door, and as Anne followed her up stairs, she was in time for the whole conversation, which began with Mary's saying, in a tone of great exultation-- I mean to go with you, Charles, for I am of no more use at home than\nyou are. If I were to shut myself up for ever with the child, I should\nnot be able to persuade him to do anything he did not like. Anne will\nstay; Anne undertakes to stay at home and take care of him. It is\nAnne's own proposal, and so I shall go with you, which will be a great\ndeal better, for I have not dined at the other house since Tuesday. This is very kind of Anne, was her husband's answer, and I should be\nvery glad to have you go; but it seems rather hard that she should be\nleft at home by herself, to nurse our sick child. Anne was now at hand to take up her own cause, and the sincerity of her manner being soon sufficient to convince him, where conviction was at least very agreeable, he had no farther scruples as to her being left to dine alone, though he still wanted her to join them in the evening, when the child might be at rest for the night, and kindly urged her to let him come and fetch her, but she was quite unpersuadable; and this being the case, she had ere long the pleasure of seeing them set off together in high spirits. They were gone, she hoped, to be happy, however oddly constructed such happiness might seem; as for herself, she was left with as many sensations of comfort, as were, perhaps, ever likely to be hers. She knew herself to be of the first utility to the child; and what was it to her if Frederick Wentworth were only half a mile distant, making himself agreeable to others? She would have liked to know how he felt as to a meeting. Perhaps indifferent, if indifference could exist under such circumstances. He must be either indifferent or unwilling. Had he wished ever to see her again, he need not have waited till this time; he would have done what she could not but believe that in his place she should have done long ago, when events had been early giving him the independence which alone had been wanting. Her brother and sister came back delighted with their new acquaintance, and their visit in general. There had been music, singing, talking, laughing, all that was most agreeable; charming manners in Captain Wentworth, no shyness or reserve; they seemed all to know each other perfectly, and he was coming the very next morning to shoot with Charles. He was to come to breakfast, but not at the Cottage, though that had been proposed at first; but then he had been pressed to come to the Great House instead, and he seemed afraid of being in Mrs Charles Musgrove's way, on account of the child, and therefore, somehow, they hardly knew how, it ended in Charles's being to meet him to breakfast at his father's. Anne understood it. He wished to avoid seeing her. He had inquired after her, she found, slightly, as might suit a former slight acquaintance, seeming to acknowledge such as she had acknowledged, actuated, perhaps, by the same view of escaping introduction when they were to meet. The morning hours of the Cottage were always later than those of the other house, and on the morrow the difference was so great that Mary and Anne were not more than beginning breakfast when Charles came in to say that they were just setting off, that he was come for his dogs, that his sisters were following with Captain Wentworth; his sisters meaning to visit Mary and the child, and Captain Wentworth proposing also to wait on her for a few minutes if not inconvenient; and though Charles had answered for the child's being in no such state as could make it inconvenient, Captain Wentworth would not be satisfied without his running on to give notice. Mary, very much gratified by this attention, was delighted to receive him, while a thousand feelings rushed on Anne, of which this was the most consoling, that it would soon be over. And it was soon over. In two minutes after Charles's preparation, the others appeared; they were in the drawing-room. Her eye half met Captain Wentworth's, a bow, a curtsey passed; she heard his voice; he talked to Mary, said all that was right, said something to the Miss Musgroves, enough to mark an easy footing; the room seemed full, full of persons and voices, but a few minutes ended it. Charles shewed himself at the window, all was ready, their visitor had bowed and was gone, the Miss Musgroves were gone too, suddenly resolving to walk to the end of the village with the sportsmen: the room was cleared, and Anne might finish her breakfast as she could. It is over! it is over! she repeated to herself again and again, in nervous gratitude. The worst is over! Mary talked, but she could not attend. She had seen him. They had met. They had been once more in the same room. Soon, however, she began to reason with herself, and try to be feeling less. Eight years, almost eight years had passed, since all had been given up. How absurd to be resuming the agitation which such an interval had banished into distance and indistinctness! What might not eight years do? Events of every description, changes, alienations, removals--all, all must be comprised in it, and oblivion of the past-- how natural, how certain too! It included nearly a third part of her own life. Alas! with all her reasoning, she found, that to retentive feelings eight years may be little more than nothing. Now, how were his sentiments to be read? Was this like wishing to avoid her? And the next moment she was hating herself for the folly which asked the question. On one other question which perhaps her utmost wisdom might not have prevented, she was soon spared all suspense; for, after the Miss Musgroves had returned and finished their visit at the Cottage she had this spontaneous information from Mary:-- Captain Wentworth is not very gallant by you, Anne, though he was so\nattentive to me. Henrietta asked him what he thought of you, when they\nwent away, and he said, 'You were so altered he should not have known\nyou again.' Mary had no feelings to make her respect her sister's in a common way, but she was perfectly unsuspicious of being inflicting any peculiar wound. Altered beyond his knowledge. Anne fully submitted, in silent, deep mortification. Doubtless it was so, and she could take no revenge, for he was not altered, or not for the worse. She had already acknowledged it to herself, and she could not think differently, let him think of her as he would. No: the years which had destroyed her youth and bloom had only given him a more glowing, manly, open look, in no respect lessening his personal advantages. She had seen the same Frederick Wentworth. So altered that he should not have known her again! These were words which could not but dwell with her. Yet she soon began to rejoice that she had heard them. They were of sobering tendency; they allayed agitation; they composed, and consequently must make her happier. Frederick Wentworth had used such words, or something like them, but without an idea that they would be carried round to her. He had thought her wretchedly altered, and in the first moment of appeal, had spoken as he felt. He had not forgiven Anne Elliot. She had used him ill, deserted and disappointed him; and worse, she had shewn a feebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confident temper could not endure. She had given him up to oblige others. It had been the effect of over-persuasion. It had been weakness and timidity. He had been most warmly attached to her, and had never seen a woman since whom he thought her equal; but, except from some natural sensation of curiosity, he had no desire of meeting her again. Her power with him was gone for ever. It was now his object to marry. He was rich, and being turned on shore, fully intended to settle as soon as he could be properly tempted; actually looking round, ready to fall in love with all the speed which a clear head and a quick taste could allow. He had a heart for either of the Miss Musgroves, if they could catch it; a heart, in short, for any pleasing young woman who came in his way, excepting Anne Elliot. This was his only secret exception, when he said to his sister, in answer to her suppositions:-- Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a foolish match. Anybody\nbetween fifteen and thirty may have me for asking. A little beauty,\nand a few smiles, and a few compliments to the navy, and I am a lost\nman. Should not this be enough for a sailor, who has had no society\namong women to make him nice? He said it, she knew, to be contradicted. His bright proud eye spoke the conviction that he was nice; and Anne Elliot was not out of his thoughts, when he more seriously described the woman he should wish to meet with. A strong mind, with sweetness of manner, made the first and the last of the description. That is the woman I want, said he. Something a little inferior I\nshall of course put up with, but it must not be much. If I am a fool,\nI shall be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject more than\nmost men. Chapter 8 From this time Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot were repeatedly in the same circle. They were soon dining in company together at Mr Musgrove's, for the little boy's state could no longer supply his aunt with a pretence for absenting herself; and this was but the beginning of other dinings and other meetings. Whether former feelings were to be renewed must be brought to the proof; former times must undoubtedly be brought to the recollection of each; they could not but be reverted to; the year of their engagement could not but be named by him, in the little narratives or descriptions which conversation called forth. His profession qualified him, his disposition lead him, to talk; and That was in the year six; That\nhappened before I went to sea in the year six, occurred in the course of the first evening they spent together: and though his voice did not falter, and though she had no reason to suppose his eye wandering towards her while he spoke, Anne felt the utter impossibility, from her knowledge of his mind, that he could be unvisited by remembrance any more than herself. There must be the same immediate association of thought, though she was very far from conceiving it to be of equal pain. They had no conversation together, no intercourse but what the commonest civility required. Once so much to each other! Now nothing! There had been a time, when of all the large party now filling the drawing-room at Uppercross, they would have found it most difficult to cease to speak to one another. With the exception, perhaps, of Admiral and Mrs Croft, who seemed particularly attached and happy, (Anne could allow no other exceptions even among the married couples), there could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved. Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement. When he talked, she heard the same voice, and discerned the same mind. There was a very general ignorance of all naval matters throughout the party; and he was very much questioned, and especially by the two Miss Musgroves, who seemed hardly to have any eyes but for him, as to the manner of living on board, daily regulations, food, hours, &c., and their surprise at his accounts, at learning the degree of accommodation and arrangement which was practicable, drew from him some pleasant ridicule, which reminded Anne of the early days when she too had been ignorant, and she too had been accused of supposing sailors to be living on board without anything to eat, or any cook to dress it if there were, or any servant to wait, or any knife and fork to use. From thus listening and thinking, she was roused by a whisper of Mrs Musgrove's who, overcome by fond regrets, could not help saying-- Ah! Miss Anne, if it had pleased Heaven to spare my poor son, I dare\nsay he would have been just such another by this time. Anne suppressed a smile, and listened kindly, while Mrs Musgrove relieved her heart a little more; and for a few minutes, therefore, could not keep pace with the conversation of the others. When she could let her attention take its natural course again, she found the Miss Musgroves just fetching the Navy List (their own navy list, the first that had ever been at Uppercross), and sitting down together to pore over it, with the professed view of finding out the ships that Captain Wentworth had commanded. Your first was the Asp, I remember; we will look for the Asp. You will not find her there. Quite worn out and broken up. I was the\nlast man who commanded her. Hardly fit for service then. Reported fit\nfor home service for a year or two, and so I was sent off to the West\nIndies. The girls looked all amazement. The Admiralty, he continued, entertain themselves now and then, with\nsending a few hundred men to sea, in a ship not fit to be employed.\nBut they have a great many to provide for; and among the thousands that\nmay just as well go to the bottom as not, it is impossible for them to\ndistinguish the very set who may be least missed. Phoo! phoo! cried the Admiral, what stuff these young fellows talk!\nNever was a better sloop than the Asp in her day. For an old built\nsloop, you would not see her equal. Lucky fellow to get her! He knows\nthere must have been twenty better men than himself applying for her at\nthe same time. Lucky fellow to get anything so soon, with no more\ninterest than his. I felt my luck, Admiral, I assure you; replied Captain Wentworth, seriously. I was as well satisfied with my appointment as you can\ndesire. It was a great object with me at that time to be at sea; a\nvery great object, I wanted to be doing something. To be sure you did. What should a young fellow like you do ashore for\nhalf a year together? If a man had not a wife, he soon wants to be\nafloat again. But, Captain Wentworth, cried Louisa, how vexed you must have been\nwhen you came to the Asp, to see what an old thing they had given you. I knew pretty well what she was before that day; said he, smiling. I had no more discoveries to make than you would have as to the\nfashion and strength of any old pelisse, which you had seen lent about\namong half your acquaintance ever since you could remember, and which\nat last, on some very wet day, is lent to yourself. Ah! she was a dear\nold Asp to me. She did all that I wanted. I knew she would. I knew\nthat we should either go to the bottom together, or that she would be\nthe making of me; and I never had two days of foul weather all the time\nI was at sea in her; and after taking privateers enough to be very\nentertaining, I had the good luck in my passage home the next autumn,\nto fall in with the very French frigate I wanted. I brought her into\nPlymouth; and here another instance of luck. We had not been six hours\nin the Sound, when a gale came on, which lasted four days and nights,\nand which would have done for poor old Asp in half the time; our touch\nwith the Great Nation not having much improved our condition.\nFour-and-twenty hours later, and I should only have been a gallant\nCaptain Wentworth, in a small paragraph at one corner of the\nnewspapers; and being lost in only a sloop, nobody would have thought\nabout me. Anne's shudderings were to herself alone; but the Miss Musgroves could be as open as they were sincere, in their exclamations of pity and horror. And so then, I suppose, said Mrs Musgrove, in a low voice, as if thinking aloud, so then he went away to the Laconia, and there he met\nwith our poor boy. Charles, my dear, (beckoning him to her), do ask\nCaptain Wentworth where it was he first met with your poor brother. I\nalways forgot. It was at Gibraltar, mother, I know. Dick had been left ill at\nGibraltar, with a recommendation from his former captain to Captain\nWentworth. Oh! but, Charles, tell Captain Wentworth, he need not be afraid of\nmentioning poor Dick before me, for it would be rather a pleasure to\nhear him talked of by such a good friend. Charles, being somewhat more mindful of the probabilities of the case, only nodded in reply, and walked away. The girls were now hunting for the Laconia; and Captain Wentworth could not deny himself the pleasure of taking the precious volume into his own hands to save them the trouble, and once more read aloud the little statement of her name and rate, and present non-commissioned class, observing over it that she too had been one of the best friends man ever had. Ah! those were pleasant days when I had the Laconia! How fast I made\nmoney in her. A friend of mine and I had such a lovely cruise together\noff the Western Islands. Poor Harville, sister! You know how much he\nwanted money: worse than myself. He had a wife. Excellent fellow. I\nshall never forget his happiness. He felt it all, so much for her\nsake. I wished for him again the next summer, when I had still the\nsame luck in the Mediterranean. And I am sure, Sir, said Mrs Musgrove, it was a lucky day for us,\nwhen you were put captain into that ship. We shall never forget what\nyou did. Her feelings made her speak low; and Captain Wentworth, hearing only in part, and probably not having Dick Musgrove at all near his thoughts, looked rather in suspense, and as if waiting for more. My brother, whispered one of the girls; mamma is thinking of poor\nRichard. Poor dear fellow! continued Mrs Musgrove; he was grown so steady,\nand such an excellent correspondent, while he was under your care! Ah!\nit would have been a happy thing, if he had never left you. I assure\nyou, Captain Wentworth, we are very sorry he ever left you. There was a momentary expression in Captain Wentworth's face at this speech, a certain glance of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome mouth, which convinced Anne, that instead of sharing in Mrs Musgrove's kind wishes, as to her son, he had probably been at some pains to get rid of him; but it was too transient an indulgence of self-amusement to be detected by any who understood him less than herself; in another moment he was perfectly collected and serious, and almost instantly afterwards coming up to the sofa, on which she and Mrs Musgrove were sitting, took a place by the latter, and entered into conversation with her, in a low voice, about her son, doing it with so much sympathy and natural grace, as shewed the kindest consideration for all that was real and unabsurd in the parent's feelings. They were actually on the same sofa, for Mrs Musgrove had most readily made room for him; they were divided only by Mrs Musgrove. It was no insignificant barrier, indeed. Mrs Musgrove was of a comfortable, substantial size, infinitely more fitted by nature to express good cheer and good humour, than tenderness and sentiment; and while the agitations of Anne's slender form, and pensive face, may be considered as very completely screened, Captain Wentworth should be allowed some credit for the self-command with which he attended to her large fat sighings over the destiny of a son, whom alive nobody had cared for. Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary proportions. A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep affliction, as the most graceful set of limbs in the world. But, fair or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will patronize in vain--which taste cannot tolerate--which ridicule will seize. The Admiral, after taking two or three refreshing turns about the room with his hands behind him, being called to order by his wife, now came up to Captain Wentworth, and without any observation of what he might be interrupting, thinking only of his own thoughts, began with-- If you had been a week later at Lisbon, last spring, Frederick, you\nwould have been asked to give a passage to Lady Mary Grierson and her\ndaughters. Should I? I am glad I was not a week later then. The Admiral abused him for his want of gallantry. He defended himself; though professing that he would never willingly admit any ladies on board a ship of his, excepting for a ball, or a visit, which a few hours might comprehend. But, if I know myself, said he, this is from no want of gallantry\ntowards them. It is rather from feeling how impossible it is, with all\none's efforts, and all one's sacrifices, to make the accommodations on\nboard such as women ought to have. There can be no want of gallantry,\nAdmiral, in rating the claims of women to every personal comfort high,\nand this is what I do. I hate to hear of women on board, or to see\nthem on board; and no ship under my command shall ever convey a family\nof ladies anywhere, if I can help it. This brought his sister upon him. Oh! Frederick! But I cannot believe it of you.--All idle\nrefinement!--Women may be as comfortable on board, as in the best house\nin England. I believe I have lived as much on board as most women, and\nI know nothing superior to the accommodations of a man-of-war. I\ndeclare I have not a comfort or an indulgence about me, even at\nKellynch Hall, (with a kind bow to Anne), beyond what I always had in\nmost of the ships I have lived in; and they have been five altogether. Nothing to the purpose, replied her brother. You were living with\nyour husband, and were the only woman on board. But you, yourself, brought Mrs Harville, her sister, her cousin, and\nthree children, round from Portsmouth to Plymouth. Where was this\nsuperfine, extraordinary sort of gallantry of yours then? All merged in my friendship, Sophia. I would assist any brother\nofficer's wife that I could, and I would bring anything of Harville's\nfrom the world's end, if he wanted it. But do not imagine that I did\nnot feel it an evil in itself. Depend upon it, they were all perfectly comfortable. I might not like them the better for that perhaps. Such a number of\nwomen and children have no right to be comfortable on board. My dear Frederick, you are talking quite idly. Pray, what would\nbecome of us poor sailors' wives, who often want to be conveyed to one\nport or another, after our husbands, if everybody had your feelings? My feelings, you see, did not prevent my taking Mrs Harville and all\nher family to Plymouth. But I hate to hear you talking so like a fine gentleman, and as if\nwomen were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures. We none of\nus expect to be in smooth water all our days. Ah! my dear, said the Admiral, when he had got a wife, he will sing\na different tune. When he is married, if we have the good luck to live\nto another war, we shall see him do as you and I, and a great many\nothers, have done. We shall have him very thankful to anybody that\nwill bring him his wife. Ay, that we shall. Now I have done, cried Captain Wentworth. When once married people\nbegin to attack me with,--'Oh! you will think very differently, when\nyou are married.' I can only say, 'No, I shall not;' and then they say\nagain, 'Yes, you will,' and there is an end of it. He got up and moved away. What a great traveller you must have been, ma'am! said Mrs Musgrove to Mrs Croft. Pretty well, ma'am in the fifteen years of my marriage; though many\nwomen have done more. I have crossed the Atlantic four times, and have\nbeen once to the East Indies, and back again, and only once; besides\nbeing in different places about home: Cork, and Lisbon, and Gibraltar.\nBut I never went beyond the Streights, and never was in the West\nIndies. We do not call Bermuda or Bahama, you know, the West Indies. Mrs Musgrove had not a word to say in dissent; she could not accuse herself of having ever called them anything in the whole course of her life. And I do assure you, ma'am, pursued Mrs Croft, that nothing can\nexceed the accommodations of a man-of-war; I speak, you know, of the\nhigher rates. When you come to a frigate, of course, you are more\nconfined; though any reasonable woman may be perfectly happy in one of\nthem; and I can safely say, that the happiest part of my life has been\nspent on board a ship. While we were together, you know, there was\nnothing to be feared. Thank God! I have always been blessed with\nexcellent health, and no climate disagrees with me. A little\ndisordered always the first twenty-four hours of going to sea, but\nnever knew what sickness was afterwards. The only time I ever really\nsuffered in body or mind, the only time that I ever fancied myself\nunwell, or had any ideas of danger, was the winter that I passed by\nmyself at Deal, when the Admiral (Captain Croft then) was in the North\nSeas. I lived in perpetual fright at that time, and had all manner of\nimaginary complaints from not knowing what to do with myself, or when I\nshould hear from him next; but as long as we could be together, nothing\never ailed me, and I never met with the smallest inconvenience. Aye, to be sure. Yes, indeed, oh yes! I am quite of your opinion,\nMrs Croft, was Mrs Musgrove's hearty answer. There is nothing so bad\nas a separation. I am quite of your opinion. I know what it is, for\nMr Musgrove always attends the assizes, and I am so glad when they are\nover, and he is safe back again. The evening ended with dancing. On its being proposed, Anne offered her services, as usual; and though her eyes would sometimes fill with tears as she sat at the instrument, she was extremely glad to be employed, and desired nothing in return but to be unobserved. It was a merry, joyous party, and no one seemed in higher spirits than Captain Wentworth. She felt that he had every thing to elevate him which general attention and deference, and especially the attention of all the young women, could do. The Miss Hayters, the females of the family of cousins already mentioned, were apparently admitted to the honour of being in love with him; and as for Henrietta and Louisa, they both seemed so entirely occupied by him, that nothing but the continued appearance of the most perfect good-will between themselves could have made it credible that they were not decided rivals. If he were a little spoilt by such universal, such eager admiration, who could wonder? These were some of the thoughts which occupied Anne, while her fingers were mechanically at work, proceeding for half an hour together, equally without error, and without consciousness. Once she felt that he was looking at herself, observing her altered features, perhaps, trying to trace in them the ruins of the face which had once charmed him; and once she knew that he must have spoken of her; she was hardly aware of it, till she heard the answer; but then she was sure of his having asked his partner whether Miss Elliot never danced? The answer was, Oh, no; never; she has quite given up dancing. She had rather\nplay. She is never tired of playing. Once, too, he spoke to her. She had left the instrument on the dancing being over, and he had sat down to try to make out an air which he wished to give the Miss Musgroves an idea of. Unintentionally she returned to that part of the room; he saw her, and, instantly rising, said, with studied politeness-- I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat; and though she immediately drew back with a decided negative, he was not to be induced to sit down again. Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches. His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything. Chapter 9 Captain Wentworth was come to Kellynch as to a home, to stay as long as he liked, being as thoroughly the object of the Admiral's fraternal kindness as of his wife's. He had intended, on first arriving, to proceed very soon into Shropshire, and visit the brother settled in that country, but the attractions of Uppercross induced him to put this off. There was so much of friendliness, and of flattery, and of everything most bewitching in his reception there; the old were so hospitable, the young so agreeable, that he could not but resolve to remain where he was, and take all the charms and perfections of Edward's wife upon credit a little longer. It was soon Uppercross with him almost every day. The Musgroves could hardly be more ready to invite than he to come, particularly in the morning, when he had no companion at home, for the Admiral and Mrs Croft were generally out of doors together, interesting themselves in their new possessions, their grass, and their sheep, and dawdling about in a way not endurable to a third person, or driving out in a gig, lately added to their establishment. Hitherto there had been but one opinion of Captain Wentworth among the Musgroves and their dependencies. It was unvarying, warm admiration everywhere; but this intimate footing was not more than established, when a certain Charles Hayter returned among them, to be a good deal disturbed by it, and to think Captain Wentworth very much in the way. Charles Hayter was the eldest of all the cousins, and a very amiable, pleasing young man, between whom and Henrietta there had been a considerable appearance of attachment previous to Captain Wentworth's introduction. He was in orders; and having a curacy in the neighbourhood, where residence was not required, lived at his father's house, only two miles from Uppercross. A short absence from home had left his fair one unguarded by his attentions at this critical period, and when he came back he had the pain of finding very altered manners, and of seeing Captain Wentworth. Mrs Musgrove and Mrs Hayter were sisters. They had each had money, but their marriages had made a material difference in their degree of consequence. Mr Hayter had some property of his own, but it was insignificant compared with Mr Musgrove's; and while the Musgroves were in the first class of society in the country, the young Hayters would, from their parents' inferior, retired, and unpolished way of living, and their own defective education, have been hardly in any class at all, but for their connexion with Uppercross, this eldest son of course excepted, who had chosen to be a scholar and a gentleman, and who was very superior in cultivation and manners to all the rest. The two families had always been on excellent terms, there being no pride on one side, and no envy on the other, and only such a consciousness of superiority in the Miss Musgroves, as made them pleased to improve their cousins. Charles's attentions to Henrietta had been observed by her father and mother without any disapprobation. It would not be a great match for her; but if Henrietta liked him, -- and Henrietta did seem to like him. Henrietta fully thought so herself, before Captain Wentworth came; but from that time Cousin Charles had been very much forgotten. Which of the two sisters was preferred by Captain Wentworth was as yet quite doubtful, as far as Anne's observation reached. Henrietta was perhaps the prettiest, Louisa had the higher spirits; and she knew not now, whether the more gentle or the more lively character were most likely to attract him. Mr and Mrs Musgrove, either from seeing little, or from an entire confidence in the discretion of both their daughters, and of all the young men who came near them, seemed to leave everything to take its chance. There was not the smallest appearance of solicitude or remark about them in the Mansion-house; but it was different at the Cottage: the young couple there were more disposed to speculate and wonder; and Captain Wentworth had not been above four or five times in the Miss Musgroves' company, and Charles Hayter had but just reappeared, when Anne had to listen to the opinions of her brother and sister, as to which was the one liked best. Charles gave it for Louisa, Mary for Henrietta, but quite agreeing that to have him marry either could be extremely delightful. Charles had never seen a pleasanter man in his life; and from what he\nhad once heard Captain Wentworth himself say, was very sure that he had\nnot made less than twenty thousand pounds by the war. Here was a\nfortune at once; besides which, there would be the chance of what might\nbe done in any future war; and he was sure Captain Wentworth was as\nlikely a man to distinguish himself as any officer in the navy. Oh! it\nwould be a capital match for either of his sisters. Upon my word it would, replied Mary. Dear me! If he should rise to\nany very great honours! If he should ever be made a baronet! 'Lady\nWentworth' sounds very well. That would be a noble thing, indeed, for\nHenrietta! She would take place of me then, and Henrietta would not\ndislike that. Sir Frederick and Lady Wentworth! It would be but a new\ncreation, however, and I never think much of your new creations. It suited Mary best to think Henrietta the one preferred on the very account of Charles Hayter, whose pretensions she wished to see put an end to. She looked down very decidedly upon the Hayters, and thought it would be quite a misfortune to have the existing connection between the families renewed--very sad for herself and her children. You know, said she, I cannot think him at all a fit match for\nHenrietta; and considering the alliances which the Musgroves have made,\nshe has no right to throw herself away. I do not think any young woman\nhas a right to make a choice that may be disagreeable and inconvenient\nto the principal part of her family, and be giving bad connections to\nthose who have not been used to them. And, pray, who is Charles\nHayter? Nothing but a country curate. A most improper match for Miss\nMusgrove of Uppercross. Her husband, however, would not agree with her here; for besides having a regard for his cousin, Charles Hayter was an eldest son, and he saw things as an eldest son himself. Now you are talking nonsense, Mary, was therefore his answer. It\nwould not be a great match for Henrietta, but Charles has a very fair\nchance, through the Spicers, of getting something from the Bishop in\nthe course of a year or two; and you will please to remember, that he\nis the eldest son; whenever my uncle dies, he steps into very pretty\nproperty. The estate at Winthrop is not less than two hundred and\nfifty acres, besides the farm near Taunton, which is some of the best\nland in the country. I grant you, that any of them but Charles would\nbe a very shocking match for Henrietta, and indeed it could not be; he\nis the only one that could be possible; but he is a very good-natured,\ngood sort of a fellow; and whenever Winthrop comes into his hands, he\nwill make a different sort of place of it, and live in a very different\nsort of way; and with that property, he will never be a contemptible\nman--good, freehold property. No, no; Henrietta might do worse than\nmarry Charles Hayter; and if she has him, and Louisa can get Captain\nWentworth, I shall be very well satisfied. Charles may say what he pleases, cried Mary to Anne, as soon as he was out of the room, but it would be shocking to have Henrietta marry\nCharles Hayter; a very bad thing for her, and still worse for me; and\ntherefore it is very much to be wished that Captain Wentworth may soon\nput him quite out of her head, and I have very little doubt that he\nhas. She took hardly any notice of Charles Hayter yesterday. I wish\nyou had been there to see her behaviour. And as to Captain Wentworth's\nliking Louisa as well as Henrietta, it is nonsense to say so; for he\ncertainly does like Henrietta a great deal the best. But Charles is so\npositive! I wish you had been with us yesterday, for then you might\nhave decided between us; and I am sure you would have thought as I did,\nunless you had been determined to give it against me. A dinner at Mr Musgrove's had been the occasion when all these things should have been seen by Anne; but she had staid at home, under the mixed plea of a headache of her own, and some return of indisposition in little Charles. She had thought only of avoiding Captain Wentworth; but an escape from being appealed to as umpire was now added to the advantages of a quiet evening. As to Captain Wentworth's views, she deemed it of more consequence that he should know his own mind early enough not to be endangering the happiness of either sister, or impeaching his own honour, than that he should prefer Henrietta to Louisa, or Louisa to Henrietta. Either of them would, in all probability, make him an affectionate, good-humoured wife. With regard to Charles Hayter, she had delicacy which must be pained by any lightness of conduct in a well-meaning young woman, and a heart to sympathize in any of the sufferings it occasioned; but if Henrietta found herself mistaken in the nature of her feelings, the alternation could not be understood too soon. Charles Hayter had met with much to disquiet and mortify him in his cousin's behaviour. She had too old a regard for him to be so wholly estranged as might in two meetings extinguish every past hope, and leave him nothing to do but to keep away from Uppercross: but there was such a change as became very alarming, when such a man as Captain Wentworth was to be regarded as the probable cause. He had been absent only two Sundays, and when they parted, had left her interested, even to the height of his wishes, in his prospect of soon quitting his present curacy, and obtaining that of Uppercross instead. It had then seemed the object nearest her heart, that Dr Shirley, the rector, who for more than forty years had been zealously discharging all the duties of his office, but was now growing too infirm for many of them, should be quite fixed on engaging a curate; should make his curacy quite as good as he could afford, and should give Charles Hayter the promise of it. The advantage of his having to come only to Uppercross, instead of going six miles another way; of his having, in every respect, a better curacy; of his belonging to their dear Dr Shirley, and of dear, good Dr Shirley's being relieved from the duty which he could no longer get through without most injurious fatigue, had been a great deal, even to Louisa, but had been almost everything to Henrietta. When he came back, alas! the zeal of the business was gone by. Louisa could not listen at all to his account of a conversation which he had just held with Dr Shirley: she was at a window, looking out for Captain Wentworth; and even Henrietta had at best only a divided attention to give, and seemed to have forgotten all the former doubt and solicitude of the negotiation. Well, I am very glad indeed: but I always thought you would have it;\nI always thought you sure. It did not appear to me that--in short, you\nknow, Dr Shirley must have a curate, and you had secured his promise.\nIs he coming, Louisa? One morning, very soon after the dinner at the Musgroves, at which Anne had not been present, Captain Wentworth walked into the drawing-room at the Cottage, where were only herself and the little invalid Charles, who was lying on the sofa. The surprise of finding himself almost alone with Anne Elliot, deprived his manners of their usual composure: he started, and could only say, I thought the Miss Musgroves had been here: Mrs Musgrove told me I\nshould find them here, before he walked to the window to recollect himself, and feel how he ought to behave. They are up stairs with my sister: they will be down in a few\nmoments, I dare say, had been Anne's reply, in all the confusion that was natural; and if the child had not called her to come and do something for him, she would have been out of the room the next moment, and released Captain Wentworth as well as herself. He continued at the window; and after calmly and politely saying, I\nhope the little boy is better, was silent. She was obliged to kneel down by the sofa, and remain there to satisfy her patient; and thus they continued a few minutes, when, to her very great satisfaction, she heard some other person crossing the little vestibule. She hoped, on turning her head, to see the master of the house; but it proved to be one much less calculated for making matters easy--Charles Hayter, probably not at all better pleased by the sight of Captain Wentworth than Captain Wentworth had been by the sight of Anne. She only attempted to say, How do you do? Will you not sit down? The\nothers will be here presently. Captain Wentworth, however, came from his window, apparently not ill-disposed for conversation; but Charles Hayter soon put an end to his attempts by seating himself near the table, and taking up the newspaper; and Captain Wentworth returned to his window. Another minute brought another addition. The younger boy, a remarkable stout, forward child, of two years old, having got the door opened for him by some one without, made his determined appearance among them, and went straight to the sofa to see what was going on, and put in his claim to anything good that might be giving away. There being nothing to eat, he could only have some play; and as his aunt would not let him tease his sick brother, he began to fasten himself upon her, as she knelt, in such a way that, busy as she was about Charles, she could not shake him off. She spoke to him, ordered, entreated, and insisted in vain. Once she did contrive to push him away, but the boy had the greater pleasure in getting upon her back again directly. Walter, said she, get down this moment. You are extremely\ntroublesome. I am very angry with you. Walter, cried Charles Hayter, why do you not do as you are bid? Do\nnot you hear your aunt speak? Come to me, Walter, come to cousin\nCharles. But not a bit did Walter stir. In another moment, however, she found herself in the state of being released from him; some one was taking him from her, though he had bent down her head so much, that his little sturdy hands were unfastened from around her neck, and he was resolutely borne away, before she knew that Captain Wentworth had done it. Her sensations on the discovery made her perfectly speechless. She could not even thank him. She could only hang over little Charles, with most disordered feelings. His kindness in stepping forward to her relief, the manner, the silence in which it had passed, the little particulars of the circumstance, with the conviction soon forced on her by the noise he was studiously making with the child, that he meant to avoid hearing her thanks, and rather sought to testify that her conversation was the last of his wants, produced such a confusion of varying, but very painful agitation, as she could not recover from, till enabled by the entrance of Mary and the Miss Musgroves to make over her little patient to their cares, and leave the room. She could not stay. It might have been an opportunity of watching the loves and jealousies of the four--they were now altogether; but she could stay for none of it. It was evident that Charles Hayter was not well inclined towards Captain Wentworth. She had a strong impression of his having said, in a vext tone of voice, after Captain Wentworth's interference, You ought to have minded me, Walter; I told you not to\nteaze your aunt; and could comprehend his regretting that Captain Wentworth should do what he ought to have done himself. But neither Charles Hayter's feelings, nor anybody's feelings, could interest her, till she had a little better arranged her own. She was ashamed of herself, quite ashamed of being so nervous, so overcome by such a trifle; but so it was, and it required a long application of solitude and reflection to recover her. Chapter 10 Other opportunities of making her observations could not fail to occur. Anne had soon been in company with all the four together often enough to have an opinion, though too wise to acknowledge as much at home, where she knew it would have satisfied neither husband nor wife; for while she considered Louisa to be rather the favourite, she could not but think, as far as she might dare to judge from memory and experience, that Captain Wentworth was not in love with either. They were more in love with him; yet there it was not love. It was a little fever of admiration; but it might, probably must, end in love with some. Charles Hayter seemed aware of being slighted, and yet Henrietta had sometimes the air of being divided between them. Anne longed for the power of representing to them all what they were about, and of pointing out some of the evils they were exposing themselves to. She did not attribute guile to any. It was the highest satisfaction to her to believe Captain Wentworth not in the least aware of the pain he was occasioning. There was no triumph, no pitiful triumph in his manner. He had, probably, never heard, and never thought of any claims of Charles Hayter. He was only wrong in accepting the attentions (for accepting must be the word) of two young women at once. After a short struggle, however, Charles Hayter seemed to quit the field. Three days had passed without his coming once to Uppercross; a most decided change. He had even refused one regular invitation to dinner; and having been found on the occasion by Mr Musgrove with some large books before him, Mr and Mrs Musgrove were sure all could not be right, and talked, with grave faces, of his studying himself to death. It was Mary's hope and belief that he had received a positive dismissal from Henrietta, and her husband lived under the constant dependence of seeing him to-morrow. Anne could only feel that Charles Hayter was wise. One morning, about this time Charles Musgrove and Captain Wentworth being gone a-shooting together, as the sisters in the Cottage were sitting quietly at work, they were visited at the window by the sisters from the Mansion-house. It was a very fine November day, and the Miss Musgroves came through the little grounds, and stopped for no other purpose than to say, that they were going to take a long walk, and therefore concluded Mary could not like to go with them; and when Mary immediately replied, with some jealousy at not being supposed a good walker, Oh, yes, I should like\nto join you very much, I am very fond of a long walk; Anne felt persuaded, by the looks of the two girls, that it was precisely what they did not wish, and admired again the sort of necessity which the family habits seemed to produce, of everything being to be communicated, and everything being to be done together, however undesired and inconvenient. She tried to dissuade Mary from going, but in vain; and that being the case, thought it best to accept the Miss Musgroves' much more cordial invitation to herself to go likewise, as she might be useful in turning back with her sister, and lessening the interference in any plan of their own. I cannot imagine why they should suppose I should not like a long\nwalk, said Mary, as she went up stairs. Everybody is always\nsupposing that I am not a good walker; and yet they would not have been\npleased, if we had refused to join them. When people come in this\nmanner on purpose to ask us, how can one say no? Just as they were setting off, the gentlemen returned. They had taken out a young dog, who had spoilt their sport, and sent them back early. Their time and strength, and spirits, were, therefore, exactly ready for this walk, and they entered into it with pleasure. Could Anne have foreseen such a junction, she would have staid at home; but, from some feelings of interest and curiosity, she fancied now that it was too late to retract, and the whole six set forward together in the direction chosen by the Miss Musgroves, who evidently considered the walk as under their guidance. Anne's object was, not to be in the way of anybody; and where the narrow paths across the fields made many separations necessary, to keep with her brother and sister. Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves, and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn, that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness, that season which had drawn from every poet, worthy of being read, some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling. She occupied her mind as much as possible in such like musings and quotations; but it was not possible, that when within reach of Captain Wentworth's conversation with either of the Miss Musgroves, she should not try to hear it; yet she caught little very remarkable. It was mere lively chat, such as any young persons, on an intimate footing, might fall into. He was more engaged with Louisa than with Henrietta. Louisa certainly put more forward for his notice than her sister. This distinction appeared to increase, and there was one speech of Louisa's which struck her. After one of the many praises of the day, which were continually bursting forth, Captain Wentworth added:-- What glorious weather for the Admiral and my sister! They meant to\ntake a long drive this morning; perhaps we may hail them from some of\nthese hills. They talked of coming into this side of the country. I\nwonder whereabouts they will upset to-day. Oh! it does happen very\noften, I assure you; but my sister makes nothing of it; she would as\nlieve be tossed out as not. Ah! You make the most of it, I know, cried Louisa, but if it were\nreally so, I should do just the same in her place. If I loved a man,\nas she loves the Admiral, I would always be with him, nothing should\never separate us, and I would rather be overturned by him, than driven\nsafely by anybody else. It was spoken with enthusiasm. Had you? cried he, catching the same tone; I honour you! And there was silence between them for a little while. Anne could not immediately fall into a quotation again. The sweet scenes of autumn were for a while put by, unless some tender sonnet, fraught with the apt analogy of the declining year, with declining happiness, and the images of youth and hope, and spring, all gone together, blessed her memory. She roused herself to say, as they struck by order into another path, Is not this one of the ways to\nWinthrop? But nobody heard, or, at least, nobody answered her. Winthrop, however, or its environs--for young men are, sometimes to be met with, strolling about near home--was their destination; and after another half mile of gradual ascent through large enclosures, where the ploughs at work, and the fresh made path spoke the farmer counteracting the sweets of poetical despondence, and meaning to have spring again, they gained the summit of the most considerable hill, which parted Uppercross and Winthrop, and soon commanded a full view of the latter, at the foot of the hill on the other side. Winthrop, without beauty and without dignity, was stretched before them an indifferent house, standing low, and hemmed in by the barns and buildings of a farm-yard. Mary exclaimed, Bless me! here is Winthrop. I declare I had no idea!\nWell now, I think we had better turn back; I am excessively tired. Henrietta, conscious and ashamed, and seeing no cousin Charles walking along any path, or leaning against any gate, was ready to do as Mary wished; but No! said Charles Musgrove, and No, no! cried Louisa more eagerly, and taking her sister aside, seemed to be arguing the matter warmly. Charles, in the meanwhile, was very decidedly declaring his resolution of calling on his aunt, now that he was so near; and very evidently, though more fearfully, trying to induce his wife to go too. But this was one of the points on which the lady shewed her strength; and when he recommended the advantage of resting herself a quarter of an hour at Winthrop, as she felt so tired, she resolutely answered, Oh! no,\nindeed! walking up that hill again would do her more harm than any\nsitting down could do her good; and, in short, her look and manner declared, that go she would not. After a little succession of these sort of debates and consultations, it was settled between Charles and his two sisters, that he and Henrietta should just run down for a few minutes, to see their aunt and cousins, while the rest of the party waited for them at the top of the hill. Louisa seemed the principal arranger of the plan; and, as she went a little way with them, down the hill, still talking to Henrietta, Mary took the opportunity of looking scornfully around her, and saying to Captain Wentworth-- It is very unpleasant, having such connexions! But, I assure you, I\nhave never been in the house above twice in my life. She received no other answer, than an artificial, assenting smile, followed by a contemptuous glance, as he turned away, which Anne perfectly knew the meaning of. The brow of the hill, where they remained, was a cheerful spot: Louisa returned; and Mary, finding a comfortable seat for herself on the step of a stile, was very well satisfied so long as the others all stood about her; but when Louisa drew Captain Wentworth away, to try for a gleaning of nuts in an adjoining hedge-row, and they were gone by degrees quite out of sight and sound, Mary was happy no longer; she quarrelled with her own seat, was sure Louisa had got a much better somewhere, and nothing could prevent her from going to look for a better also. She turned through the same gate, but could not see them. Anne found a nice seat for her, on a dry sunny bank, under the hedge-row, in which she had no doubt of their still being, in some spot or other. Mary sat down for a moment, but it would not do; she was sure Louisa had found a better seat somewhere else, and she would go on till she overtook her. Anne, really tired herself, was glad to sit down; and she very soon heard Captain Wentworth and Louisa in the hedge-row, behind her, as if making their way back along the rough, wild sort of channel, down the centre. They were speaking as they drew near. Louisa's voice was the first distinguished. She seemed to be in the middle of some eager speech. What Anne first heard was-- And so, I made her go. I could not bear that she should be frightened\nfrom the visit by such nonsense. What! would I be turned back from\ndoing a thing that I had determined to do, and that I knew to be right,\nby the airs and interference of such a person, or of any person I may\nsay? No, I have no idea of being so easily persuaded. When I have\nmade up my mind, I have made it; and Henrietta seemed entirely to have\nmade up hers to call at Winthrop to-day; and yet, she was as near\ngiving it up, out of nonsensical complaisance! She would have turned back then, but for you? She would indeed. I am almost ashamed to say it. Happy for her, to have such a mind as yours at hand! After the hints\nyou gave just now, which did but confirm my own observations, the last\ntime I was in company with him, I need not affect to have no\ncomprehension of what is going on. I see that more than a mere dutiful\nmorning visit to your aunt was in question; and woe betide him, and her\ntoo, when it comes to things of consequence, when they are placed in\ncircumstances requiring fortitude and strength of mind, if she have not\nresolution enough to resist idle interference in such a trifle as this.\nYour sister is an amiable creature; but yours is the character of\ndecision and firmness, I see. If you value her conduct or happiness,\ninfuse as much of your own spirit into her as you can. But this, no\ndoubt, you have been always doing. It is the worst evil of too\nyielding and indecisive a character, that no influence over it can be\ndepended on. You are never sure of a good impression being durable;\neverybody may sway it. Let those who would be happy be firm. Here is\na nut, said he, catching one down from an upper bough, to exemplify:\na beautiful glossy nut, which, blessed with original strength, has\noutlived all the storms of autumn. Not a puncture, not a weak spot\nanywhere. This nut, he continued, with playful solemnity, while so\nmany of his brethren have fallen and been trodden under foot, is still\nin possession of all the happiness that a hazel nut can be supposed\ncapable of. Then returning to his former earnest tone--\"My first wish for all whom I am interested in, is that they should be firm. If Louisa Musgrove would be beautiful and happy in her November of life, she will cherish all her present powers of mind.\" He had done, and was unanswered. It would have surprised Anne if Louisa could have readily answered such a speech: words of such interest, spoken with such serious warmth! She could imagine what Louisa was feeling. For herself, she feared to move, lest she should be seen. While she remained, a bush of low rambling holly protected her, and they were moving on. Before they were beyond her hearing, however, Louisa spoke again. Mary is good-natured enough in many respects, said she; but she does\nsometimes provoke me excessively, by her nonsense and pride--the Elliot\npride. She has a great deal too much of the Elliot pride. We do so\nwish that Charles had married Anne instead. I suppose you know he\nwanted to marry Anne? After a moment's pause, Captain Wentworth said-- Do you mean that she refused him? Oh! yes; certainly. When did that happen? I do not exactly know, for Henrietta and I were at school at the time;\nbut I believe about a year before he married Mary. I wish she had\naccepted him. We should all have liked her a great deal better; and\npapa and mamma always think it was her great friend Lady Russell's\ndoing, that she did not. They think Charles might not be learned and\nbookish enough to please Lady Russell, and that therefore, she\npersuaded Anne to refuse him. The sounds were retreating, and Anne distinguished no more. Her own emotions still kept her fixed. She had much to recover from, before she could move. The listener's proverbial fate was not absolutely hers; she had heard no evil of herself, but she had heard a great deal of very painful import. She saw how her own character was considered by Captain Wentworth, and there had been just that degree of feeling and curiosity about her in his manner which must give her extreme agitation. As soon as she could, she went after Mary, and having found, and walked back with her to their former station, by the stile, felt some comfort in their whole party being immediately afterwards collected, and once more in motion together. Her spirits wanted the solitude and silence which only numbers could give. Charles and Henrietta returned, bringing, as may be conjectured, Charles Hayter with them. The minutiae of the business Anne could not attempt to understand; even Captain Wentworth did not seem admitted to perfect confidence here; but that there had been a withdrawing on the gentleman's side, and a relenting on the lady's, and that they were now very glad to be together again, did not admit a doubt. Henrietta looked a little ashamed, but very well pleased;--Charles Hayter exceedingly happy: and they were devoted to each other almost from the first instant of their all setting forward for Uppercross. Everything now marked out Louisa for Captain Wentworth; nothing could be plainer; and where many divisions were necessary, or even where they were not, they walked side by side nearly as much as the other two. In a long strip of meadow land, where there was ample space for all, they were thus divided, forming three distinct parties; and to that party of the three which boasted least animation, and least complaisance, Anne necessarily belonged. She joined Charles and Mary, and was tired enough to be very glad of Charles's other arm; but Charles, though in very good humour with her, was out of temper with his wife. Mary had shewn herself disobliging to him, and was now to reap the consequence, which consequence was his dropping her arm almost every moment to cut off the heads of some nettles in the hedge with his switch; and when Mary began to complain of it, and lament her being ill-used, according to custom, in being on the hedge side, while Anne was never incommoded on the other, he dropped the arms of both to hunt after a weasel which he had a momentary glance of, and they could hardly get him along at all. This long meadow bordered a lane, which their footpath, at the end of it was to cross, and when the party had all reached the gate of exit, the carriage advancing in the same direction, which had been some time heard, was just coming up, and proved to be Admiral Croft's gig. He and his wife had taken their intended drive, and were returning home. Upon hearing how long a walk the young people had engaged in, they kindly offered a seat to any lady who might be particularly tired; it would save her a full mile, and they were going through Uppercross. The invitation was general, and generally declined. The Miss Musgroves were not at all tired, and Mary was either offended, by not being asked before any of the others, or what Louisa called the Elliot pride could not endure to make a third in a one horse chaise. The walking party had crossed the lane, and were surmounting an opposite stile, and the Admiral was putting his horse in motion again, when Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge in a moment to say something to his sister. The something might be guessed by its effects. Miss Elliot, I am sure you are tired, cried Mrs Croft. Do let us\nhave the pleasure of taking you home. Here is excellent room for\nthree, I assure you. If we were all like you, I believe we might sit\nfour. You must, indeed, you must. Anne was still in the lane; and though instinctively beginning to decline, she was not allowed to proceed. The Admiral's kind urgency came in support of his wife's; they would not be refused; they compressed themselves into the smallest possible space to leave her a corner, and Captain Wentworth, without saying a word, turned to her, and quietly obliged her to be assisted into the carriage. Yes; he had done it. She was in the carriage, and felt that he had placed her there, that his will and his hands had done it, that she owed it to his perception of her fatigue, and his resolution to give her rest. She was very much affected by the view of his disposition towards her, which all these things made apparent. This little circumstance seemed the completion of all that had gone before. She understood him. He could not forgive her, but he could not be unfeeling. Though condemning her for the past, and considering it with high and unjust resentment, though perfectly careless of her, and though becoming attached to another, still he could not see her suffer, without the desire of giving her relief. It was a remainder of former sentiment; it was an impulse of pure, though unacknowledged friendship; it was a proof of his own warm and amiable heart, which she could not contemplate without emotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that she knew not which prevailed. Her answers to the kindness and the remarks of her companions were at first unconsciously given. They had travelled half their way along the rough lane, before she was quite awake to what they said. She then found them talking of Frederick. He certainly means to have one or other of those two girls, Sophy, said the Admiral; but there is no saying which. He has been running\nafter them, too, long enough, one would think, to make up his mind.\nAy, this comes of the peace. If it were war now, he would have settled\nit long ago. We sailors, Miss Elliot, cannot afford to make long\ncourtships in time of war. How many days was it, my dear, between the\nfirst time of my seeing you and our sitting down together in our\nlodgings at North Yarmouth? We had better not talk about it, my dear, replied Mrs Croft, pleasantly; for if Miss Elliot were to hear how soon we came to an\nunderstanding, she would never be persuaded that we could be happy\ntogether. I had known you by character, however, long before. Well, and I had heard of you as a very pretty girl, and what were we\nto wait for besides? I do not like having such things so long in hand.\nI wish Frederick would spread a little more canvass, and bring us home\none of these young ladies to Kellynch. Then there would always be\ncompany for them. And very nice young ladies they both are; I hardly\nknow one from the other. Very good humoured, unaffected girls, indeed, said Mrs Croft, in a tone of calmer praise, such as made Anne suspect that her keener powers might not consider either of them as quite worthy of her brother; and\na very respectable family. One could not be connected with better\npeople. My dear Admiral, that post! we shall certainly take that\npost. But by coolly giving the reins a better direction herself they happily passed the danger; and by once afterwards judiciously putting out her hand they neither fell into a rut, nor ran foul of a dung-cart; and Anne, with some amusement at their style of driving, which she imagined no bad representation of the general guidance of their affairs, found herself safely deposited by them at the Cottage. Chapter 11 The time now approached for Lady Russell's return: the day was even fixed; and Anne, being engaged to join her as soon as she was resettled, was looking forward to an early removal to Kellynch, and beginning to think how her own comfort was likely to be affected by it. It would place her in the same village with Captain Wentworth, within half a mile of him; they would have to frequent the same church, and there must be intercourse between the two families. This was against her; but on the other hand, he spent so much of his time at Uppercross, that in removing thence she might be considered rather as leaving him behind, than as going towards him; and, upon the whole, she believed she must, on this interesting question, be the gainer, almost as certainly as in her change of domestic society, in leaving poor Mary for Lady Russell. She wished it might be possible for her to avoid ever seeing Captain Wentworth at the Hall: those rooms had witnessed former meetings which would be brought too painfully before her; but she was yet more anxious for the possibility of Lady Russell and Captain Wentworth never meeting anywhere. They did not like each other, and no renewal of acquaintance now could do any good; and were Lady Russell to see them together, she might think that he had too much self-possession, and she too little. These points formed her chief solicitude in anticipating her removal from Uppercross, where she felt she had been stationed quite long enough. Her usefulness to little Charles would always give some sweetness to the memory of her two months' visit there, but he was gaining strength apace, and she had nothing else to stay for. The conclusion of her visit, however, was diversified in a way which she had not at all imagined. Captain Wentworth, after being unseen and unheard of at Uppercross for two whole days, appeared again among them to justify himself by a relation of what had kept him away. A letter from his friend, Captain Harville, having found him out at last, had brought intelligence of Captain Harville's being settled with his family at Lyme for the winter; of their being therefore, quite unknowingly, within twenty miles of each other. Captain Harville had never been in good health since a severe wound which he received two years before, and Captain Wentworth's anxiety to see him had determined him to go immediately to Lyme. He had been there for four-and-twenty hours. His acquittal was complete, his friendship warmly honoured, a lively interest excited for his friend, and his description of the fine country about Lyme so feelingly attended to by the party, that an earnest desire to see Lyme themselves, and a project for going thither was the consequence. The young people were all wild to see Lyme. Captain Wentworth talked of going there again himself, it was only seventeen miles from Uppercross; though November, the weather was by no means bad; and, in short, Louisa, who was the most eager of the eager, having formed the resolution to go, and besides the pleasure of doing as she liked, being now armed with the idea of merit in maintaining her own way, bore down all the wishes of her father and mother for putting it off till summer; and to Lyme they were to go--Charles, Mary, Anne, Henrietta, Louisa, and Captain Wentworth. The first heedless scheme had been to go in the morning and return at night; but to this Mr Musgrove, for the sake of his horses, would not consent; and when it came to be rationally considered, a day in the middle of November would not leave much time for seeing a new place, after deducting seven hours, as the nature of the country required, for going and returning. They were, consequently, to stay the night there, and not to be expected back till the next day's dinner. This was felt to be a considerable amendment; and though they all met at the Great House at rather an early breakfast hour, and set off very punctually, it was so much past noon before the two carriages, Mr Musgrove's coach containing the four ladies, and Charles's curricle, in which he drove Captain Wentworth, were descending the long hill into Lyme, and entering upon the still steeper street of the town itself, that it was very evident they would not have more than time for looking about them, before the light and warmth of the day were gone. After securing accommodations, and ordering a dinner at one of the inns, the next thing to be done was unquestionably to walk directly down to the sea. They were come too late in the year for any amusement or variety which Lyme, as a public place, might offer. The rooms were shut up, the lodgers almost all gone, scarcely any family but of the residents left; and, as there is nothing to admire in the buildings themselves, the remarkable situation of the town, the principal street almost hurrying into the water, the walk to the Cobb, skirting round the pleasant little bay, which, in the season, is animated with bathing machines and company; the Cobb itself, its old wonders and new improvements, with the very beautiful line of cliffs stretching out to the east of the town, are what the stranger's eye will seek; and a very strange stranger it must be, who does not see charms in the immediate environs of Lyme, to make him wish to know it better. The scenes in its neighbourhood, Charmouth, with its high grounds and extensive sweeps of country, and still more, its sweet, retired bay, backed by dark cliffs, where fragments of low rock among the sands, make it the happiest spot for watching the flow of the tide, for sitting in unwearied contemplation; the woody varieties of the cheerful village of Up Lyme; and, above all, Pinny, with its green chasms between romantic rocks, where the scattered forest trees and orchards of luxuriant growth, declare that many a generation must have passed away since the first partial falling of the cliff prepared the ground for such a state, where a scene so wonderful and so lovely is exhibited, as may more than equal any of the resembling scenes of the far-famed Isle of Wight: these places must be visited, and visited again, to make the worth of Lyme understood. The party from Uppercross passing down by the now deserted and melancholy looking rooms, and still descending, soon found themselves on the sea-shore; and lingering only, as all must linger and gaze on a first return to the sea, who ever deserved to look on it at all, proceeded towards the Cobb, equally their object in itself and on Captain Wentworth's account: for in a small house, near the foot of an old pier of unknown date, were the Harvilles settled. Captain Wentworth turned in to call on his friend; the others walked on, and he was to join them on the Cobb. They were by no means tired of wondering and admiring; and not even Louisa seemed to feel that they had parted with Captain Wentworth long, when they saw him coming after them, with three companions, all well known already, by description, to be Captain and Mrs Harville, and a Captain Benwick, who was staying with them. Captain Benwick had some time ago been first lieutenant of the Laconia; and the account which Captain Wentworth had given of him, on his return from Lyme before, his warm praise of him as an excellent young man and an officer, whom he had always valued highly, which must have stamped him well in the esteem of every listener, had been followed by a little history of his private life, which rendered him perfectly interesting in the eyes of all the ladies. He had been engaged to Captain Harville's sister, and was now mourning her loss. They had been a year or two waiting for fortune and promotion. Fortune came, his prize-money as lieutenant being great; promotion, too, came at last; but Fanny Harville did not live to know it. She had died the preceding summer while he was at sea. Captain Wentworth believed it impossible for man to be more attached to woman than poor Benwick had been to Fanny Harville, or to be more deeply afflicted under the dreadful change. He considered his disposition as of the sort which must suffer heavily, uniting very strong feelings with quiet, serious, and retiring manners, and a decided taste for reading, and sedentary pursuits. To finish the interest of the story, the friendship between him and the Harvilles seemed, if possible, augmented by the event which closed all their views of alliance, and Captain Benwick was now living with them entirely. Captain Harville had taken his present house for half a year; his taste, and his health, and his fortune, all directing him to a residence inexpensive, and by the sea; and the grandeur of the country, and the retirement of Lyme in the winter, appeared exactly adapted to Captain Benwick's state of mind. The sympathy and good-will excited towards Captain Benwick was very great. And yet, said Anne to herself, as they now moved forward to meet the party, he has not, perhaps, a more sorrowing heart than I have. I\ncannot believe his prospects so blighted for ever. He is younger than\nI am; younger in feeling, if not in fact; younger as a man. He will\nrally again, and be happy with another. They all met, and were introduced. Captain Harville was a tall, dark man, with a sensible, benevolent countenance; a little lame; and from strong features and want of health, looking much older than Captain Wentworth. Captain Benwick looked, and was, the youngest of the three, and, compared with either of them, a little man. He had a pleasing face and a melancholy air, just as he ought to have, and drew back from conversation. Captain Harville, though not equalling Captain Wentworth in manners, was a perfect gentleman, unaffected, warm, and obliging. Mrs Harville, a degree less polished than her husband, seemed, however, to have the same good feelings; and nothing could be more pleasant than their desire of considering the whole party as friends of their own, because the friends of Captain Wentworth, or more kindly hospitable than their entreaties for their all promising to dine with them. The dinner, already ordered at the inn, was at last, though unwillingly, accepted as a excuse; but they seemed almost hurt that Captain Wentworth should have brought any such party to Lyme, without considering it as a thing of course that they should dine with them. There was so much attachment to Captain Wentworth in all this, and such a bewitching charm in a degree of hospitality so uncommon, so unlike the usual style of give-and-take invitations, and dinners of formality and display, that Anne felt her spirits not likely to be benefited by an increasing acquaintance among his brother-officers. These would\nhave been all my friends, was her thought; and she had to struggle against a great tendency to lowness. On quitting the Cobb, they all went in-doors with their new friends, and found rooms so small as none but those who invite from the heart could think capable of accommodating so many. Anne had a moment's astonishment on the subject herself; but it was soon lost in the pleasanter feelings which sprang from the sight of all the ingenious contrivances and nice arrangements of Captain Harville, to turn the actual space to the best account, to supply the deficiencies of lodging-house furniture, and defend the windows and doors against the winter storms to be expected. The varieties in the fitting-up of the rooms, where the common necessaries provided by the owner, in the common indifferent plight, were contrasted with some few articles of a rare species of wood, excellently worked up, and with something curious and valuable from all the distant countries Captain Harville had visited, were more than amusing to Anne; connected as it all was with his profession, the fruit of its labours, the effect of its influence on his habits, the picture of repose and domestic happiness it presented, made it to her a something more, or less, than gratification. Captain Harville was no reader; but he had contrived excellent accommodations, and fashioned very pretty shelves, for a tolerable collection of well-bound volumes, the property of Captain Benwick. His lameness prevented him from taking much exercise; but a mind of usefulness and ingenuity seemed to furnish him with constant employment within. He drew, he varnished, he carpentered, he glued; he made toys for the children; he fashioned new netting-needles and pins with improvements; and if everything else was done, sat down to his large fishing-net at one corner of the room. Anne thought she left great happiness behind her when they quitted the house; and Louisa, by whom she found herself walking, burst forth into raptures of admiration and delight on the character of the navy; their friendliness, their brotherliness, their openness, their uprightness; protesting that she was convinced of sailors having more worth and warmth than any other set of men in England; that they only knew how to live, and they only deserved to be respected and loved. They went back to dress and dine; and so well had the scheme answered already, that nothing was found amiss; though its being so entirely\nout of season, and the no thoroughfare of Lyme, and the no\nexpectation of company, had brought many apologies from the heads of the inn. Anne found herself by this time growing so much more hardened to being in Captain Wentworth's company than she had at first imagined could ever be, that the sitting down to the same table with him now, and the interchange of the common civilities attending on it (they never got beyond), was become a mere nothing. The nights were too dark for the ladies to meet again till the morrow, but Captain Harville had promised them a visit in the evening; and he came, bringing his friend also, which was more than had been expected, it having been agreed that Captain Benwick had all the appearance of being oppressed by the presence of so many strangers. He ventured among them again, however, though his spirits certainly did not seem fit for the mirth of the party in general. While Captains Wentworth and Harville led the talk on one side of the room, and by recurring to former days, supplied anecdotes in abundance to occupy and entertain the others, it fell to Anne's lot to be placed rather apart with Captain Benwick; and a very good impulse of her nature obliged her to begin an acquaintance with him. He was shy, and disposed to abstraction; but the engaging mildness of her countenance, and gentleness of her manners, soon had their effect; and Anne was well repaid the first trouble of exertion. He was evidently a young man of considerable taste in reading, though principally in poetry; and besides the persuasion of having given him at least an evening's indulgence in the discussion of subjects, which his usual companions had probably no concern in, she had the hope of being of real use to him in some suggestions as to the duty and benefit of struggling against affliction, which had naturally grown out of their conversation. For, though shy, he did not seem reserved; it had rather the appearance of feelings glad to burst their usual restraints; and having talked of poetry, the richness of the present age, and gone through a brief comparison of opinion as to the first-rate poets, trying to ascertain whether Marmion or The Lady of the Lake were to be preferred, and how ranked the Giaour and The Bride of Abydos; and moreover, how the Giaour was to be pronounced, he showed himself so intimately acquainted with all the tenderest songs of the one poet, and all the impassioned descriptions of hopeless agony of the other; he repeated, with such tremulous feeling, the various lines which imaged a broken heart, or a mind destroyed by wretchedness, and looked so entirely as if he meant to be understood, that she ventured to hope he did not always read only poetry, and to say, that she thought it was the misfortune of poetry to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoyed it completely; and that the strong feelings which alone could estimate it truly were the very feelings which ought to taste it but sparingly. His looks shewing him not pained, but pleased with this allusion to his situation, she was emboldened to go on; and feeling in herself the right of seniority of mind, she ventured to recommend a larger allowance of prose in his daily study; and on being requested to particularize, mentioned such works of our best moralists, such collections of the finest letters, such memoirs of characters of worth and suffering, as occurred to her at the moment as calculated to rouse and fortify the mind by the highest precepts, and the strongest examples of moral and religious endurances. Captain Benwick listened attentively, and seemed grateful for the interest implied; and though with a shake of the head, and sighs which declared his little faith in the efficacy of any books on grief like his, noted down the names of those she recommended, and promised to procure and read them. When the evening was over, Anne could not but be amused at the idea of her coming to Lyme to preach patience and resignation to a young man whom she had never seen before; nor could she help fearing, on more serious reflection, that, like many other great moralists and preachers, she had been eloquent on a point in which her own conduct would ill bear examination. Chapter 12 Anne and Henrietta, finding themselves the earliest of the party the next morning, agreed to stroll down to the sea before breakfast. They went to the sands, to watch the flowing of the tide, which a fine south-easterly breeze was bringing in with all the grandeur which so flat a shore admitted. They praised the morning; gloried in the sea; sympathized in the delight of the fresh-feeling breeze--and were silent; till Henrietta suddenly began again with-- Oh! yes,--I am quite convinced that, with very few exceptions, the\nsea-air always does good. There can be no doubt of its having been of\nthe greatest service to Dr Shirley, after his illness, last spring\ntwelve-month. He declares himself, that coming to Lyme for a month,\ndid him more good than all the medicine he took; and, that being by the\nsea, always makes him feel young again. Now, I cannot help thinking it\na pity that he does not live entirely by the sea. I do think he had\nbetter leave Uppercross entirely, and fix at Lyme. Do not you, Anne?\nDo not you agree with me, that it is the best thing he could do, both\nfor himself and Mrs Shirley? She has cousins here, you know, and many\nacquaintance, which would make it cheerful for her, and I am sure she\nwould be glad to get to a place where she could have medical attendance\nat hand, in case of his having another seizure. Indeed I think it\nquite melancholy to have such excellent people as Dr and Mrs Shirley,\nwho have been doing good all their lives, wearing out their last days\nin a place like Uppercross, where, excepting our family, they seem shut\nout from all the world. I wish his friends would propose it to him. I\nreally think they ought. And, as to procuring a dispensation, there\ncould be no difficulty at his time of life, and with his character. My\nonly doubt is, whether anything could persuade him to leave his parish.\nHe is so very strict and scrupulous in his notions; over-scrupulous I\nmust say. Do not you think, Anne, it is being over-scrupulous? Do not\nyou think it is quite a mistaken point of conscience, when a clergyman\nsacrifices his health for the sake of duties, which may be just as well\nperformed by another person? And at Lyme too, only seventeen miles\noff, he would be near enough to hear, if people thought there was\nanything to complain of. Anne smiled more than once to herself during this speech, and entered into the subject, as ready to do good by entering into the feelings of a young lady as of a young man, though here it was good of a lower standard, for what could be offered but general acquiescence? She said all that was reasonable and proper on the business; felt the claims of Dr Shirley to repose as she ought; saw how very desirable it was that he should have some active, respectable young man, as a resident curate, and was even courteous enough to hint at the advantage of such resident curate's being married. I wish, said Henrietta, very well pleased with her companion, I wish\nLady Russell lived at Uppercross, and were intimate with Dr Shirley. I\nhave always heard of Lady Russell as a woman of the greatest influence\nwith everybody! I always look upon her as able to persuade a person to\nanything! I am afraid of her, as I have told you before, quite afraid\nof her, because she is so very clever; but I respect her amazingly, and\nwish we had such a neighbour at Uppercross. Anne was amused by Henrietta's manner of being grateful, and amused also that the course of events and the new interests of Henrietta's views should have placed her friend at all in favour with any of the Musgrove family; she had only time, however, for a general answer, and a wish that such another woman were at Uppercross, before all subjects suddenly ceased, on seeing Louisa and Captain Wentworth coming towards them. They came also for a stroll till breakfast was likely to be ready; but Louisa recollecting, immediately afterwards that she had something to procure at a shop, invited them all to go back with her into the town. They were all at her disposal. When they came to the steps, leading upwards from the beach, a gentleman, at the same moment preparing to come down, politely drew back, and stopped to give them way. They ascended and passed him; and as they passed, Anne's face caught his eye, and he looked at her with a degree of earnest admiration, which she could not be insensible of. She was looking remarkably well; her very regular, very pretty features, having the bloom and freshness of youth restored by the fine wind which had been blowing on her complexion, and by the animation of eye which it had also produced. It was evident that the gentleman, (completely a gentleman in manner) admired her exceedingly. Captain Wentworth looked round at her instantly in a way which shewed his noticing of it. He gave her a momentary glance, a glance of brightness, which seemed to say, That man is struck with you, and even\nI, at this moment, see something like Anne Elliot again. After attending Louisa through her business, and loitering about a little longer, they returned to the inn; and Anne, in passing afterwards quickly from her own chamber to their dining-room, had nearly run against the very same gentleman, as he came out of an adjoining apartment. She had before conjectured him to be a stranger like themselves, and determined that a well-looking groom, who was strolling about near the two inns as they came back, should be his servant. Both master and man being in mourning assisted the idea. It was now proved that he belonged to the same inn as themselves; and this second meeting, short as it was, also proved again by the gentleman's looks, that he thought hers very lovely, and by the readiness and propriety of his apologies, that he was a man of exceedingly good manners. He seemed about thirty, and though not handsome, had an agreeable person. Anne felt that she should like to know who he was. They had nearly done breakfast, when the sound of a carriage, (almost the first they had heard since entering Lyme) drew half the party to the window. It was a gentleman's carriage, a curricle, but only coming round from the stable-yard to the front door; somebody must be going away. It was driven by a servant in mourning. The word curricle made Charles Musgrove jump up that he might compare it with his own; the servant in mourning roused Anne's curiosity, and the whole six were collected to look, by the time the owner of the curricle was to be seen issuing from the door amidst the bows and civilities of the household, and taking his seat, to drive off. Ah! cried Captain Wentworth, instantly, and with half a glance at Anne, it is the very man we passed. The Miss Musgroves agreed to it; and having all kindly watched him as far up the hill as they could, they returned to the breakfast table. The waiter came into the room soon afterwards. Pray, said Captain Wentworth, immediately, can you tell us the name\nof the gentleman who is just gone away? Yes, Sir, a Mr Elliot, a gentleman of large fortune, came in last\nnight from Sidmouth. Dare say you heard the carriage, sir, while you\nwere at dinner; and going on now for Crewkherne, in his way to Bath and\nLondon. Elliot! Many had looked on each other, and many had repeated the name, before all this had been got through, even by the smart rapidity of a waiter. Bless me! cried Mary; it must be our cousin; it must be our Mr\nElliot, it must, indeed! Charles, Anne, must not it? In mourning, you\nsee, just as our Mr Elliot must be. How very extraordinary! In the\nvery same inn with us! Anne, must not it be our Mr Elliot? my\nfather's next heir? Pray sir, turning to the waiter, did not you\nhear, did not his servant say whether he belonged to the Kellynch\nfamily? No, ma'am, he did not mention no particular family; but he said his\nmaster was a very rich gentleman, and would be a baronight some day. There! you see! cried Mary in an ecstasy, just as I said! Heir to\nSir Walter Elliot! I was sure that would come out, if it was so.\nDepend upon it, that is a circumstance which his servants take care to\npublish, wherever he goes. But, Anne, only conceive how extraordinary!\nI wish I had looked at him more. I wish we had been aware in time, who\nit was, that he might have been introduced to us. What a pity that we\nshould not have been introduced to each other! Do you think he had the\nElliot countenance? I hardly looked at him, I was looking at the\nhorses; but I think he had something of the Elliot countenance, I\nwonder the arms did not strike me! Oh! the great-coat was hanging over\nthe panel, and hid the arms, so it did; otherwise, I am sure, I should\nhave observed them, and the livery too; if the servant had not been in\nmourning, one should have known him by the livery. Putting all these very extraordinary circumstances together, said Captain Wentworth, we must consider it to be the arrangement of\nProvidence, that you should not be introduced to your cousin. When she could command Mary's attention, Anne quietly tried to convince her that their father and Mr Elliot had not, for many years, been on such terms as to make the power of attempting an introduction at all desirable. At the same time, however, it was a secret gratification to herself to have seen her cousin, and to know that the future owner of Kellynch was undoubtedly a gentleman, and had an air of good sense. She would not, upon any account, mention her having met with him the second time; luckily Mary did not much attend to their having passed close by him in their earlier walk, but she would have felt quite ill-used by Anne's having actually run against him in the passage, and received his very polite excuses, while she had never been near him at all; no, that cousinly little interview must remain a perfect secret. Of course, said Mary, you will mention our seeing Mr Elliot, the\nnext time you write to Bath. I think my father certainly ought to hear\nof it; do mention all about him. Anne avoided a direct reply, but it was just the circumstance which she considered as not merely unnecessary to be communicated, but as what ought to be suppressed. The offence which had been given her father, many years back, she knew; Elizabeth's particular share in it she suspected; and that Mr Elliot's idea always produced irritation in both was beyond a doubt. Mary never wrote to Bath herself; all the toil of keeping up a slow and unsatisfactory correspondence with Elizabeth fell on Anne. Breakfast had not been long over, when they were joined by Captain and Mrs Harville and Captain Benwick; with whom they had appointed to take their last walk about Lyme. They ought to be setting off for Uppercross by one, and in the mean while were to be all together, and out of doors as long as they could. Anne found Captain Benwick getting near her, as soon as they were all fairly in the street. Their conversation the preceding evening did not disincline him to seek her again; and they walked together some time, talking as before of Mr Scott and Lord Byron, and still as unable as before, and as unable as any other two readers, to think exactly alike of the merits of either, till something occasioned an almost general change amongst their party, and instead of Captain Benwick, she had Captain Harville by her side. Miss Elliot, said he, speaking rather low, you have done a good deed\nin making that poor fellow talk so much. I wish he could have such\ncompany oftener. It is bad for him, I know, to be shut up as he is;\nbut what can we do? We cannot part. No, said Anne, that I can easily believe to be impossible; but in\ntime, perhaps--we know what time does in every case of affliction, and\nyou must remember, Captain Harville, that your friend may yet be called\na young mourner--only last summer, I understand. Ay, true enough, (with a deep sigh) only June. And not known to him, perhaps, so soon. Not till the first week of August, when he came home from the Cape,\njust made into the Grappler. I was at Plymouth dreading to hear of\nhim; he sent in letters, but the Grappler was under orders for\nPortsmouth. There the news must follow him, but who was to tell it?\nnot I. I would as soon have been run up to the yard-arm. Nobody could\ndo it, but that good fellow (pointing to Captain Wentworth.) The\nLaconia had come into Plymouth the week before; no danger of her being\nsent to sea again. He stood his chance for the rest; wrote up for\nleave of absence, but without waiting the return, travelled night and\nday till he got to Portsmouth, rowed off to the Grappler that instant,\nand never left the poor fellow for a week. That's what he did, and\nnobody else could have saved poor James. You may think, Miss Elliot,\nwhether he is dear to us! Anne did think on the question with perfect decision, and said as much in reply as her own feeling could accomplish, or as his seemed able to bear, for he was too much affected to renew the subject, and when he spoke again, it was of something totally different. Mrs Harville's giving it as her opinion that her husband would have quite walking enough by the time he reached home, determined the direction of all the party in what was to be their last walk; they would accompany them to their door, and then return and set off themselves. By all their calculations there was just time for this; but as they drew near the Cobb, there was such a general wish to walk along it once more, all were so inclined, and Louisa soon grew so determined, that the difference of a quarter of an hour, it was found, would be no difference at all; so with all the kind leave-taking, and all the kind interchange of invitations and promises which may be imagined, they parted from Captain and Mrs Harville at their own door, and still accompanied by Captain Benwick, who seemed to cling to them to the last, proceeded to make the proper adieus to the Cobb. Anne found Captain Benwick again drawing near her. Lord Byron's dark\nblue seas could not fail of being brought forward by their present view, and she gladly gave him all her attention as long as attention was possible. It was soon drawn, perforce another way. There was too much wind to make the high part of the new Cobb pleasant for the ladies, and they agreed to get down the steps to the lower, and all were contented to pass quietly and carefully down the steep flight, excepting Louisa; she must be jumped down them by Captain Wentworth. In all their walks, he had had to jump her from the stiles; the sensation was delightful to her. The hardness of the pavement for her feet, made him less willing upon the present occasion; he did it, however. She was safely down, and instantly, to show her enjoyment, ran up the steps to be jumped down again. He advised her against it, thought the jar too great; but no, he reasoned and talked in vain, she smiled and said, I am determined I will: he put out his hands; she was too precipitate by half a second, she fell on the pavement on the Lower Cobb, and was taken up lifeless! There was no wound, no blood, no visible bruise; but her eyes were closed, she breathed not, her face was like death. The horror of the moment to all who stood around! Captain Wentworth, who had caught her up, knelt with her in his arms, looking on her with a face as pallid as her own, in an agony of silence. She is dead! she is dead! screamed Mary, catching hold of her husband, and contributing with his own horror to make him immoveable; and in another moment, Henrietta, sinking under the conviction, lost her senses too, and would have fallen on the steps, but for Captain Benwick and Anne, who caught and supported her between them. Is there no one to help me? were the first words which burst from Captain Wentworth, in a tone of despair, and as if all his own strength were gone. Go to him, go to him, cried Anne, for heaven's sake go to him. I\ncan support her myself. Leave me, and go to him. Rub her hands, rub\nher temples; here are salts; take them, take them. Captain Benwick obeyed, and Charles at the same moment, disengaging himself from his wife, they were both with him; and Louisa was raised up and supported more firmly between them, and everything was done that Anne had prompted, but in vain; while Captain Wentworth, staggering against the wall for his support, exclaimed in the bitterest agony-- Oh God! her father and mother! A surgeon! said Anne. He caught the word; it seemed to rouse him at once, and saying only-- True, true, a surgeon this instant, was darting away, when Anne eagerly suggested-- Captain Benwick, would not it be better for Captain Benwick? He knows\nwhere a surgeon is to be found. Every one capable of thinking felt the advantage of the idea, and in a moment (it was all done in rapid moments) Captain Benwick had resigned the poor corpse-like figure entirely to the brother's care, and was off for the town with the utmost rapidity. As to the wretched party left behind, it could scarcely be said which of the three, who were completely rational, was suffering most: Captain Wentworth, Anne, or Charles, who, really a very affectionate brother, hung over Louisa with sobs of grief, and could only turn his eyes from one sister, to see the other in a state as insensible, or to witness the hysterical agitations of his wife, calling on him for help which he could not give. Anne, attending with all the strength and zeal, and thought, which instinct supplied, to Henrietta, still tried, at intervals, to suggest comfort to the others, tried to quiet Mary, to animate Charles, to assuage the feelings of Captain Wentworth. Both seemed to look to her for directions. Anne, Anne, cried Charles, What is to be done next? What, in\nheaven's name, is to be done next? Captain Wentworth's eyes were also turned towards her. Had not she better be carried to the inn? Yes, I am sure: carry her\ngently to the inn. Yes, yes, to the inn, repeated Captain Wentworth, comparatively collected, and eager to be doing something. I will carry her myself.\nMusgrove, take care of the others. By this time the report of the accident had spread among the workmen and boatmen about the Cobb, and many were collected near them, to be useful if wanted, at any rate, to enjoy the sight of a dead young lady, nay, two dead young ladies, for it proved twice as fine as the first report. To some of the best-looking of these good people Henrietta was consigned, for, though partially revived, she was quite helpless; and in this manner, Anne walking by her side, and Charles attending to his wife, they set forward, treading back with feelings unutterable, the ground, which so lately, so very lately, and so light of heart, they had passed along. They were not off the Cobb, before the Harvilles met them. Captain Benwick had been seen flying by their house, with a countenance which showed something to be wrong; and they had set off immediately, informed and directed as they passed, towards the spot. Shocked as Captain Harville was, he brought senses and nerves that could be instantly useful; and a look between him and his wife decided what was to be done. She must be taken to their house; all must go to their house; and await the surgeon's arrival there. They would not listen to scruples: he was obeyed; they were all beneath his roof; and while Louisa, under Mrs Harville's direction, was conveyed up stairs, and given possession of her own bed, assistance, cordials, restoratives were supplied by her husband to all who needed them. Louisa had once opened her eyes, but soon closed them again, without apparent consciousness. This had been a proof of life, however, of service to her sister; and Henrietta, though perfectly incapable of being in the same room with Louisa, was kept, by the agitation of hope and fear, from a return of her own insensibility. Mary, too, was growing calmer. The surgeon was with them almost before it had seemed possible. They were sick with horror, while he examined; but he was not hopeless. The head had received a severe contusion, but he had seen greater injuries recovered from: he was by no means hopeless; he spoke cheerfully. That he did not regard it as a desperate case, that he did not say a few hours must end it, was at first felt, beyond the hope of most; and the ecstasy of such a reprieve, the rejoicing, deep and silent, after a few fervent ejaculations of gratitude to Heaven had been offered, may be conceived. The tone, the look, with which Thank God! was uttered by Captain Wentworth, Anne was sure could never be forgotten by her; nor the sight of him afterwards, as he sat near a table, leaning over it with folded arms and face concealed, as if overpowered by the various feelings of his soul, and trying by prayer and reflection to calm them. Louisa's limbs had escaped. There was no injury but to the head. It now became necessary for the party to consider what was best to be done, as to their general situation. They were now able to speak to each other and consult. That Louisa must remain where she was, however distressing to her friends to be involving the Harvilles in such trouble, did not admit a doubt. Her removal was impossible. The Harvilles silenced all scruples; and, as much as they could, all gratitude. They had looked forward and arranged everything before the others began to reflect. Captain Benwick must give up his room to them, and get another bed elsewhere; and the whole was settled. They were only concerned that the house could accommodate no more; and yet perhaps, by putting the children away in the maid's room, or swinging\na cot somewhere, they could hardly bear to think of not finding room for two or three besides, supposing they might wish to stay; though, with regard to any attendance on Miss Musgrove, there need not be the least uneasiness in leaving her to Mrs Harville's care entirely. Mrs Harville was a very experienced nurse, and her nursery-maid, who had lived with her long, and gone about with her everywhere, was just such another. Between these two, she could want no possible attendance by day or night. And all this was said with a truth and sincerity of feeling irresistible. Charles, Henrietta, and Captain Wentworth were the three in consultation, and for a little while it was only an interchange of perplexity and terror. Uppercross, the necessity of some one's going\nto Uppercross; the news to be conveyed; how it could be broken to Mr\nand Mrs Musgrove; the lateness of the morning; an hour already gone\nsince they ought to have been off; the impossibility of being in\ntolerable time. At first, they were capable of nothing more to the purpose than such exclamations; but, after a while, Captain Wentworth, exerting himself, said-- We must be decided, and without the loss of another minute. Every\nminute is valuable. Some one must resolve on being off for Uppercross\ninstantly. Musgrove, either you or I must go. Charles agreed, but declared his resolution of not going away. He would be as little incumbrance as possible to Captain and Mrs Harville; but as to leaving his sister in such a state, he neither ought, nor would. So far it was decided; and Henrietta at first declared the same. She, however, was soon persuaded to think differently. The usefulness of her staying! She who had not been able to remain in Louisa's room, or to look at her, without sufferings which made her worse than helpless! She was forced to acknowledge that she could do no good, yet was still unwilling to be away, till, touched by the thought of her father and mother, she gave it up; she consented, she was anxious to be at home. The plan had reached this point, when Anne, coming quietly down from Louisa's room, could not but hear what followed, for the parlour door was open. Then it is settled, Musgrove, cried Captain Wentworth, that you\nstay, and that I take care of your sister home. But as to the rest, as\nto the others, if one stays to assist Mrs Harville, I think it need be\nonly one. Mrs Charles Musgrove will, of course, wish to get back to\nher children; but if Anne will stay, no one so proper, so capable as\nAnne. She paused a moment to recover from the emotion of hearing herself so spoken of. The other two warmly agreed with what he said, and she then appeared. You will stay, I am sure; you will stay and nurse her; cried he, turning to her and speaking with a glow, and yet a gentleness, which seemed almost restoring the past. She coloured deeply, and he recollected himself and moved away. She expressed herself most willing, ready, happy to remain. It was what she had been thinking\nof, and wishing to be allowed to do. A bed on the floor in Louisa's\nroom would be sufficient for her, if Mrs Harville would but think so. One thing more, and all seemed arranged. Though it was rather desirable that Mr and Mrs Musgrove should be previously alarmed by some share of delay; yet the time required by the Uppercross horses to take them back, would be a dreadful extension of suspense; and Captain Wentworth proposed, and Charles Musgrove agreed, that it would be much better for him to take a chaise from the inn, and leave Mr Musgrove's carriage and horses to be sent home the next morning early, when there would be the farther advantage of sending an account of Louisa's night. Captain Wentworth now hurried off to get everything ready on his part, and to be soon followed by the two ladies. When the plan was made known to Mary, however, there was an end of all peace in it. She was so wretched and so vehement, complained so much of injustice in being expected to go away instead of Anne; Anne, who was nothing to Louisa, while she was her sister, and had the best right to stay in Henrietta's stead! Why was not she to be as useful as Anne? And to go home without Charles, too, without her husband! No, it was too unkind. And in short, she said more than her husband could long withstand, and as none of the others could oppose when he gave way, there was no help for it; the change of Mary for Anne was inevitable. Anne had never submitted more reluctantly to the jealous and ill-judging claims of Mary; but so it must be, and they set off for the town, Charles taking care of his sister, and Captain Benwick attending to her. She gave a moment's recollection, as they hurried along, to the little circumstances which the same spots had witnessed earlier in the morning. There she had listened to Henrietta's schemes for Dr Shirley's leaving Uppercross; farther on, she had first seen Mr Elliot; a moment seemed all that could now be given to any one but Louisa, or those who were wrapt up in her welfare. Captain Benwick was most considerately attentive to her; and, united as they all seemed by the distress of the day, she felt an increasing degree of good-will towards him, and a pleasure even in thinking that it might, perhaps, be the occasion of continuing their acquaintance. Captain Wentworth was on the watch for them, and a chaise and four in waiting, stationed for their convenience in the lowest part of the street; but his evident surprise and vexation at the substitution of one sister for the other, the change in his countenance, the astonishment, the expressions begun and suppressed, with which Charles was listened to, made but a mortifying reception of Anne; or must at least convince her that she was valued only as she could be useful to Louisa. She endeavoured to be composed, and to be just. Without emulating the feelings of an Emma towards her Henry, she would have attended on Louisa with a zeal above the common claims of regard, for his sake; and she hoped he would not long be so unjust as to suppose she would shrink unnecessarily from the office of a friend. In the mean while she was in the carriage. He had handed them both in, and placed himself between them; and in this manner, under these circumstances, full of astonishment and emotion to Anne, she quitted Lyme. How the long stage would pass; how it was to affect their manners; what was to be their sort of intercourse, she could not foresee. It was all quite natural, however. He was devoted to Henrietta; always turning towards her; and when he spoke at all, always with the view of supporting her hopes and raising her spirits. In general, his voice and manner were studiously calm. To spare Henrietta from agitation seemed the governing principle. Once only, when she had been grieving over the last ill-judged, ill-fated walk to the Cobb, bitterly lamenting that it ever had been thought of, he burst forth, as if wholly overcome-- Don't talk of it, don't talk of it, he cried. Oh God! that I had\nnot given way to her at the fatal moment! Had I done as I ought! But\nso eager and so resolute! Dear, sweet Louisa! Anne wondered whether it ever occurred to him now, to question the justness of his own previous opinion as to the universal felicity and advantage of firmness of character; and whether it might not strike him that, like all other qualities of the mind, it should have its proportions and limits. She thought it could scarcely escape him to feel that a persuadable temper might sometimes be as much in favour of happiness as a very resolute character. They got on fast. Anne was astonished to recognise the same hills and the same objects so soon. Their actual speed, heightened by some dread of the conclusion, made the road appear but half as long as on the day before. It was growing quite dusk, however, before they were in the neighbourhood of Uppercross, and there had been total silence among them for some time, Henrietta leaning back in the corner, with a shawl over her face, giving the hope of her having cried herself to sleep; when, as they were going up their last hill, Anne found herself all at once addressed by Captain Wentworth. In a low, cautious voice, he said:-- I have been considering what we had best do. She must not appear at\nfirst. She could not stand it. I have been thinking whether you had\nnot better remain in the carriage with her, while I go in and break it\nto Mr and Mrs Musgrove. Do you think this is a good plan? She did: he was satisfied, and said no more. But the remembrance of the appeal remained a pleasure to her, as a proof of friendship, and of deference for her judgement, a great pleasure; and when it became a sort of parting proof, its value did not lessen. When the distressing communication at Uppercross was over, and he had seen the father and mother quite as composed as could be hoped, and the daughter all the better for being with them, he announced his intention of returning in the same carriage to Lyme; and when the horses were baited, he was off. (End of volume one.) Chapter 13 The remainder of Anne's time at Uppercross, comprehending only two days, was spent entirely at the Mansion House; and she had the satisfaction of knowing herself extremely useful there, both as an immediate companion, and as assisting in all those arrangements for the future, which, in Mr and Mrs Musgrove's distressed state of spirits, would have been difficulties. They had an early account from Lyme the next morning. Louisa was much the same. No symptoms worse than before had appeared. Charles came a few hours afterwards, to bring a later and more particular account. He was tolerably cheerful. A speedy cure must not be hoped, but everything was going on as well as the nature of the case admitted. In speaking of the Harvilles, he seemed unable to satisfy his own sense of their kindness, especially of Mrs Harville's exertions as a nurse. She really left nothing for Mary to do. He and Mary had been\npersuaded to go early to their inn last night. Mary had been\nhysterical again this morning. When he came away, she was going to\nwalk out with Captain Benwick, which, he hoped, would do her good. He\nalmost wished she had been prevailed on to come home the day before;\nbut the truth was, that Mrs Harville left nothing for anybody to do. Charles was to return to Lyme the same afternoon, and his father had at first half a mind to go with him, but the ladies could not consent. It would be going only to multiply trouble to the others, and increase his own distress; and a much better scheme followed and was acted upon. A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Louisa. Vague wishes of getting Sarah thither, had occurred before to Mrs Musgrove and Henrietta; but without Anne, it would hardly have been resolved on, and found practicable so soon. They were indebted, the next day, to Charles Hayter, for all the minute knowledge of Louisa, which it was so essential to obtain every twenty-four hours. He made it his business to go to Lyme, and his account was still encouraging. The intervals of sense and consciousness were believed to be stronger. Every report agreed in Captain Wentworth's appearing fixed in Lyme. Anne was to leave them on the morrow, an event which they all dreaded. What should they do without her? They were wretched comforters for\none another. And so much was said in this way, that Anne thought she could not do better than impart among them the general inclination to which she was privy, and persuaded them all to go to Lyme at once. She had little difficulty; it was soon determined that they would go; go to-morrow, fix themselves at the inn, or get into lodgings, as it suited, and there remain till dear Louisa could be moved. They must be taking off some trouble from the good people she was with; they might at least relieve Mrs Harville from the care of her own children; and in short, they were so happy in the decision, that Anne was delighted with what she had done, and felt that she could not spend her last morning at Uppercross better than in assisting their preparations, and sending them off at an early hour, though her being left to the solitary range of the house was the consequence. She was the last, excepting the little boys at the cottage, she was the very last, the only remaining one of all that had filled and animated both houses, of all that had given Uppercross its cheerful character. A few days had made a change indeed! If Louisa recovered, it would all be well again. More than former happiness would be restored. There could not be a doubt, to her mind there was none, of what would follow her recovery. A few months hence, and the room now so deserted, occupied but by her silent, pensive self, might be filled again with all that was happy and gay, all that was glowing and bright in prosperous love, all that was most unlike Anne Elliot! An hour's complete leisure for such reflections as these, on a dark November day, a small thick rain almost blotting out the very few objects ever to be discerned from the windows, was enough to make the sound of Lady Russell's carriage exceedingly welcome; and yet, though desirous to be gone, she could not quit the Mansion House, or look an adieu to the Cottage, with its black, dripping and comfortless veranda, or even notice through the misty glasses the last humble tenements of the village, without a saddened heart. Scenes had passed in Uppercross which made it precious. It stood the record of many sensations of pain, once severe, but now softened; and of some instances of relenting feeling, some breathings of friendship and reconciliation, which could never be looked for again, and which could never cease to be dear. She left it all behind her, all but the recollection that such things had been. Anne had never entered Kellynch since her quitting Lady Russell's house in September. It had not been necessary, and the few occasions of its being possible for her to go to the Hall she had contrived to evade and escape from. Her first return was to resume her place in the modern and elegant apartments of the Lodge, and to gladden the eyes of its mistress. There was some anxiety mixed with Lady Russell's joy in meeting her. She knew who had been frequenting Uppercross. But happily, either Anne was improved in plumpness and looks, or Lady Russell fancied her so; and Anne, in receiving her compliments on the occasion, had the amusement of connecting them with the silent admiration of her cousin, and of hoping that she was to be blessed with a second spring of youth and beauty. When they came to converse, she was soon sensible of some mental change. The subjects of which her heart had been full on leaving Kellynch, and which she had felt slighted, and been compelled to smother among the Musgroves, were now become but of secondary interest. She had lately lost sight even of her father and sister and Bath. Their concerns had been sunk under those of Uppercross; and when Lady Russell reverted to their former hopes and fears, and spoke her satisfaction in the house in Camden Place, which had been taken, and her regret that Mrs Clay should still be with them, Anne would have been ashamed to have it known how much more she was thinking of Lyme and Louisa Musgrove, and all her acquaintance there; how much more interesting to her was the home and the friendship of the Harvilles and Captain Benwick, than her own father's house in Camden Place, or her own sister's intimacy with Mrs Clay. She was actually forced to exert herself to meet Lady Russell with anything like the appearance of equal solicitude, on topics which had by nature the first claim on her. There was a little awkwardness at first in their discourse on another subject. They must speak of the accident at Lyme. Lady Russell had not been arrived five minutes the day before, when a full account of the whole had burst on her; but still it must be talked of, she must make enquiries, she must regret the imprudence, lament the result, and Captain Wentworth's name must be mentioned by both. Anne was conscious of not doing it so well as Lady Russell. She could not speak the name, and look straight forward to Lady Russell's eye, till she had adopted the expedient of telling her briefly what she thought of the attachment between him and Louisa. When this was told, his name distressed her no longer. Lady Russell had only to listen composedly, and wish them happy, but internally her heart revelled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt, that the man who at twenty-three had seemed to understand somewhat of the value of an Anne Elliot, should, eight years afterwards, be charmed by a Louisa Musgrove. The first three or four days passed most quietly, with no circumstance to mark them excepting the receipt of a note or two from Lyme, which found their way to Anne, she could not tell how, and brought a rather improving account of Louisa. At the end of that period, Lady Russell's politeness could repose no longer, and the fainter self-threatenings of the past became in a decided tone, I must call on Mrs Croft; I really\nmust call upon her soon. Anne, have you courage to go with me, and pay\na visit in that house? It will be some trial to us both. Anne did not shrink from it; on the contrary, she truly felt as she said, in observing-- I think you are very likely to suffer the most of the two; your\nfeelings are less reconciled to the change than mine. By remaining in\nthe neighbourhood, I am become inured to it. She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners'. These convictions must unquestionably have their own pain, and severe was its kind; but they precluded that pain which Lady Russell would suffer in entering the house again, and returning through the well-known apartments. In such moments Anne had no power of saying to herself, These rooms\nought to belong only to us. Oh, how fallen in their destination! How\nunworthily occupied! An ancient family to be so driven away!\nStrangers filling their place! No, except when she thought of her mother, and remembered where she had been used to sit and preside, she had no sigh of that description to heave. Mrs Croft always met her with a kindness which gave her the pleasure of fancying herself a favourite, and on the present occasion, receiving her in that house, there was particular attention. The sad accident at Lyme was soon the prevailing topic, and on comparing their latest accounts of the invalid, it appeared that each lady dated her intelligence from the same hour of yestermorn; that Captain Wentworth had been in Kellynch yesterday (the first time since the accident), had brought Anne the last note, which she had not been able to trace the exact steps of; had staid a few hours and then returned again to Lyme, and without any present intention of quitting it any more. He had enquired after her, she found, particularly; had expressed his hope of Miss Elliot's not being the worse for her exertions, and had spoken of those exertions as great. This was handsome, and gave her more pleasure than almost anything else could have done. As to the sad catastrophe itself, it could be canvassed only in one style by a couple of steady, sensible women, whose judgements had to work on ascertained events; and it was perfectly decided that it had been the consequence of much thoughtlessness and much imprudence; that its effects were most alarming, and that it was frightful to think, how long Miss Musgrove's recovery might yet be doubtful, and how liable she would still remain to suffer from the concussion hereafter! The Admiral wound it up summarily by exclaiming-- Ay, a very bad business indeed. A new sort of way this, for a young\nfellow to be making love, by breaking his mistress's head, is not it,\nMiss Elliot? This is breaking a head and giving a plaster, truly! Admiral Croft's manners were not quite of the tone to suit Lady Russell, but they delighted Anne. His goodness of heart and simplicity of character were irresistible. Now, this must be very bad for you, said he, suddenly rousing from a little reverie, to be coming and finding us here. I had not\nrecollected it before, I declare, but it must be very bad. But now, do\nnot stand upon ceremony. Get up and go over all the rooms in the house\nif you like it. Another time, Sir, I thank you, not now. Well, whenever it suits you. You can slip in from the shrubbery at\nany time; and there you will find we keep our umbrellas hanging up by\nthat door. A good place is not it? But, (checking himself), you\nwill not think it a good place, for yours were always kept in the\nbutler's room. Ay, so it always is, I believe. One man's ways may be\nas good as another's, but we all like our own best. And so you must\njudge for yourself, whether it would be better for you to go about the\nhouse or not. Anne, finding she might decline it, did so, very gratefully. We have made very few changes either, continued the Admiral, after thinking a moment. Very few. We told you about the laundry-door, at\nUppercross. That has been a very great improvement. The wonder was,\nhow any family upon earth could bear with the inconvenience of its\nopening as it did, so long! You will tell Sir Walter what we have\ndone, and that Mr Shepherd thinks it the greatest improvement the house\never had. Indeed, I must do ourselves the justice to say, that the few\nalterations we have made have been all very much for the better. My\nwife should have the credit of them, however. I have done very little\nbesides sending away some of the large looking-glasses from my\ndressing-room, which was your father's. A very good man, and very much\nthe gentleman I am sure: but I should think, Miss Elliot, (looking with serious reflection), I should think he must be rather a dressy\nman for his time of life. Such a number of looking-glasses! oh Lord!\nthere was no getting away from one's self. So I got Sophy to lend me a\nhand, and we soon shifted their quarters; and now I am quite snug, with\nmy little shaving glass in one corner, and another great thing that I\nnever go near. Anne, amused in spite of herself, was rather distressed for an answer, and the Admiral, fearing he might not have been civil enough, took up the subject again, to say-- The next time you write to your good father, Miss Elliot, pray give\nhim my compliments and Mrs Croft's, and say that we are settled here\nquite to our liking, and have no fault at all to find with the place.\nThe breakfast-room chimney smokes a little, I grant you, but it is only\nwhen the wind is due north and blows hard, which may not happen three\ntimes a winter. And take it altogether, now that we have been into\nmost of the houses hereabouts and can judge, there is not one that we\nlike better than this. Pray say so, with my compliments. He will be\nglad to hear it. Lady Russell and Mrs Croft were very well pleased with each other: but the acquaintance which this visit began was fated not to proceed far at present; for when it was returned, the Crofts announced themselves to be going away for a few weeks, to visit their connexions in the north of the county, and probably might not be at home again before Lady Russell would be removing to Bath. So ended all danger to Anne of meeting Captain Wentworth at Kellynch Hall, or of seeing him in company with her friend. Everything was safe enough, and she smiled over the many anxious feelings she had wasted on the subject. Chapter 14 Though Charles and Mary had remained at Lyme much longer after Mr and Mrs Musgrove's going than Anne conceived they could have been at all wanted, they were yet the first of the family to be at home again; and as soon as possible after their return to Uppercross they drove over to the Lodge. They had left Louisa beginning to sit up; but her head, though clear, was exceedingly weak, and her nerves susceptible to the highest extreme of tenderness; and though she might be pronounced to be altogether doing very well, it was still impossible to say when she might be able to bear the removal home; and her father and mother, who must return in time to receive their younger children for the Christmas holidays, had hardly a hope of being allowed to bring her with them. They had been all in lodgings together. Mrs Musgrove had got Mrs Harville's children away as much as she could, every possible supply from Uppercross had been furnished, to lighten the inconvenience to the Harvilles, while the Harvilles had been wanting them to come to dinner every day; and in short, it seemed to have been only a struggle on each side as to which should be most disinterested and hospitable. Mary had had her evils; but upon the whole, as was evident by her staying so long, she had found more to enjoy than to suffer. Charles Hayter had been at Lyme oftener than suited her; and when they dined with the Harvilles there had been only a maid-servant to wait, and at first Mrs Harville had always given Mrs Musgrove precedence; but then, she had received so very handsome an apology from her on finding out whose daughter she was, and there had been so much going on every day, there had been so many walks between their lodgings and the Harvilles, and she had got books from the library, and changed them so often, that the balance had certainly been much in favour of Lyme. She had been taken to Charmouth too, and she had bathed, and she had gone to church, and there were a great many more people to look at in the church at Lyme than at Uppercross; and all this, joined to the sense of being so very useful, had made really an agreeable fortnight. Anne enquired after Captain Benwick, Mary's face was clouded directly. Charles laughed. Oh! Captain Benwick is very well, I believe, but he is a very odd\nyoung man. I do not know what he would be at. We asked him to come\nhome with us for a day or two: Charles undertook to give him some\nshooting, and he seemed quite delighted, and, for my part, I thought it\nwas all settled; when behold! on Tuesday night, he made a very awkward\nsort of excuse; 'he never shot' and he had 'been quite misunderstood,'\nand he had promised this and he had promised that, and the end of it\nwas, I found, that he did not mean to come. I suppose he was afraid of\nfinding it dull; but upon my word I should have thought we were lively\nenough at the Cottage for such a heart-broken man as Captain Benwick. Charles laughed again and said, Now Mary, you know very well how it\nreally was. It was all your doing, (turning to Anne.) He fancied\nthat if he went with us, he should find you close by: he fancied\neverybody to be living in Uppercross; and when he discovered that Lady\nRussell lived three miles off, his heart failed him, and he had not\ncourage to come. That is the fact, upon my honour, Mary knows it is. But Mary did not give into it very graciously, whether from not considering Captain Benwick entitled by birth and situation to be in love with an Elliot, or from not wanting to believe Anne a greater attraction to Uppercross than herself, must be left to be guessed. Anne's good-will, however, was not to be lessened by what she heard. She boldly acknowledged herself flattered, and continued her enquiries. Oh! he talks of you, cried Charles, in such terms-- Mary interrupted him. I declare, Charles, I never heard him mention Anne\ntwice all the time I was there. I declare, Anne, he never talks of you\nat all. No, admitted Charles, I do not know that he ever does, in a general\nway; but however, it is a very clear thing that he admires you\nexceedingly. His head is full of some books that he is reading upon\nyour recommendation, and he wants to talk to you about them; he has\nfound out something or other in one of them which he thinks--oh! I\ncannot pretend to remember it, but it was something very fine--I\noverheard him telling Henrietta all about it; and then 'Miss Elliot'\nwas spoken of in the highest terms! Now Mary, I declare it was so, I\nheard it myself, and you were in the other room. 'Elegance, sweetness,\nbeauty.' Oh! there was no end of Miss Elliot's charms. And I am sure, cried Mary, warmly, it was a very little to his\ncredit, if he did. Miss Harville only died last June. Such a heart is\nvery little worth having; is it, Lady Russell? I am sure you will\nagree with me. I must see Captain Benwick before I decide, said Lady Russell, smiling. And that you are very likely to do very soon, I can tell you, ma'am, said Charles. Though he had not nerves for coming away with us, and\nsetting off again afterwards to pay a formal visit here, he will make\nhis way over to Kellynch one day by himself, you may depend on it. I\ntold him the distance and the road, and I told him of the church's\nbeing so very well worth seeing; for as he has a taste for those sort\nof things, I thought that would be a good excuse, and he listened with\nall his understanding and soul; and I am sure from his manner that you\nwill have him calling here soon. So, I give you notice, Lady Russell. Any acquaintance of Anne's will always be welcome to me, was Lady Russell's kind answer. Oh! as to being Anne's acquaintance, said Mary, I think he is rather\nmy acquaintance, for I have been seeing him every day this last\nfortnight. Well, as your joint acquaintance, then, I shall be very happy to see\nCaptain Benwick. You will not find anything very agreeable in him, I assure you, ma'am.\nHe is one of the dullest young men that ever lived. He has walked with\nme, sometimes, from one end of the sands to the other, without saying a\nword. He is not at all a well-bred young man. I am sure you will not\nlike him. There we differ, Mary, said Anne. I think Lady Russell would like\nhim. I think she would be so much pleased with his mind, that she\nwould very soon see no deficiency in his manner. So do I, Anne, said Charles. I am sure Lady Russell would like him.\nHe is just Lady Russell's sort. Give him a book, and he will read all\nday long. Yes, that he will! exclaimed Mary, tauntingly. He will sit poring\nover his book, and not know when a person speaks to him, or when one\ndrop's one's scissors, or anything that happens. Do you think Lady\nRussell would like that? Lady Russell could not help laughing. Upon my word, said she, I\nshould not have supposed that my opinion of any one could have admitted\nof such difference of conjecture, steady and matter of fact as I may\ncall myself. I have really a curiosity to see the person who can give\noccasion to such directly opposite notions. I wish he may be induced\nto call here. And when he does, Mary, you may depend upon hearing my\nopinion; but I am determined not to judge him beforehand. You will not like him, I will answer for it. Lady Russell began talking of something else. Mary spoke with animation of their meeting with, or rather missing, Mr Elliot so extraordinarily. He is a man, said Lady Russell, whom I have no wish to see. His\ndeclining to be on cordial terms with the head of his family, has left\na very strong impression in his disfavour with me. This decision checked Mary's eagerness, and stopped her short in the midst of the Elliot countenance. With regard to Captain Wentworth, though Anne hazarded no enquiries, there was voluntary communication sufficient. His spirits had been greatly recovering lately as might be expected. As Louisa improved, he had improved, and he was now quite a different creature from what he had been the first week. He had not seen Louisa; and was so extremely fearful of any ill consequence to her from an interview, that he did not press for it at all; and, on the contrary, seemed to have a plan of going away for a week or ten days, till her head was stronger. He had talked of going down to Plymouth for a week, and wanted to persuade Captain Benwick to go with him; but, as Charles maintained to the last, Captain Benwick seemed much more disposed to ride over to Kellynch. There can be no doubt that Lady Russell and Anne were both occasionally thinking of Captain Benwick, from this time. Lady Russell could not hear the door-bell without feeling that it might be his herald; nor could Anne return from any stroll of solitary indulgence in her father's grounds, or any visit of charity in the village, without wondering whether she might see him or hear of him. Captain Benwick came not, however. He was either less disposed for it than Charles had imagined, or he was too shy; and after giving him a week's indulgence, Lady Russell determined him to be unworthy of the interest which he had been beginning to excite. The Musgroves came back to receive their happy boys and girls from school, bringing with them Mrs Harville's little children, to improve the noise of Uppercross, and lessen that of Lyme. Henrietta remained with Louisa; but all the rest of the family were again in their usual quarters. Lady Russell and Anne paid their compliments to them once, when Anne could not but feel that Uppercross was already quite alive again. Though neither Henrietta, nor Louisa, nor Charles Hayter, nor Captain Wentworth were there, the room presented as strong a contrast as could be wished to the last state she had seen it in. Immediately surrounding Mrs Musgrove were the little Harvilles, whom she was sedulously guarding from the tyranny of the two children from the Cottage, expressly arrived to amuse them. On one side was a table occupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and on the other were tressels and trays, bending under the weight of brawn and cold pies, where riotous boys were holding high revel; the whole completed by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be heard, in spite of all the noise of the others. Charles and Mary also came in, of course, during their visit, and Mr Musgrove made a point of paying his respects to Lady Russell, and sat down close to her for ten minutes, talking with a very raised voice, but from the clamour of the children on his knees, generally in vain. It was a fine family-piece. Anne, judging from her own temperament, would have deemed such a domestic hurricane a bad restorative of the nerves, which Louisa's illness must have so greatly shaken. But Mrs Musgrove, who got Anne near her on purpose to thank her most cordially, again and again, for all her attentions to them, concluded a short recapitulation of what she had suffered herself by observing, with a happy glance round the room, that after all she had gone through, nothing was so likely to do her good as a little quiet cheerfulness at home. Louisa was now recovering apace. Her mother could even think of her being able to join their party at home, before her brothers and sisters went to school again. The Harvilles had promised to come with her and stay at Uppercross, whenever she returned. Captain Wentworth was gone, for the present, to see his brother in Shropshire. I hope I shall remember, in future, said Lady Russell, as soon as they were reseated in the carriage, not to call at Uppercross in the\nChristmas holidays. Everybody has their taste in noises as well as in other matters; and sounds are quite innoxious, or most distressing, by their sort rather than their quantity. When Lady Russell not long afterwards, was entering Bath on a wet afternoon, and driving through the long course of streets from the Old Bridge to Camden Place, amidst the dash of other carriages, the heavy rumble of carts and drays, the bawling of newspapermen, muffin-men and milkmen, and the ceaseless clink of pattens, she made no complaint. No, these were noises which belonged to the winter pleasures; her spirits rose under their influence; and like Mrs Musgrove, she was feeling, though not saying, that after being long in the country, nothing could be so good for her as a little quiet cheerfulness. Anne did not share these feelings. She persisted in a very determined, though very silent disinclination for Bath; caught the first dim view of the extensive buildings, smoking in rain, without any wish of seeing them better; felt their progress through the streets to be, however disagreeable, yet too rapid; for who would be glad to see her when she arrived? And looked back, with fond regret, to the bustles of Uppercross and the seclusion of Kellynch. Elizabeth's last letter had communicated a piece of news of some interest. Mr Elliot was in Bath. He had called in Camden Place; had called a second time, a third; had been pointedly attentive. If Elizabeth and her father did not deceive themselves, had been taking much pains to seek the acquaintance, and proclaim the value of the connection, as he had formerly taken pains to shew neglect. This was very wonderful if it were true; and Lady Russell was in a state of very agreeable curiosity and perplexity about Mr Elliot, already recanting the sentiment she had so lately expressed to Mary, of his being a man\nwhom she had no wish to see. She had a great wish to see him. If he really sought to reconcile himself like a dutiful branch, he must be forgiven for having dismembered himself from the paternal tree. Anne was not animated to an equal pitch by the circumstance, but she felt that she would rather see Mr Elliot again than not, which was more than she could say for many other persons in Bath. She was put down in Camden Place; and Lady Russell then drove to her own lodgings, in Rivers Street. Chapter 15 Sir Walter had taken a very good house in Camden Place, a lofty dignified situation, such as becomes a man of consequence; and both he and Elizabeth were settled there, much to their satisfaction. Anne entered it with a sinking heart, anticipating an imprisonment of many months, and anxiously saying to herself, Oh! when shall I leave\nyou again? A degree of unexpected cordiality, however, in the welcome she received, did her good. Her father and sister were glad to see her, for the sake of shewing her the house and furniture, and met her with kindness. Her making a fourth, when they sat down to dinner, was noticed as an advantage. Mrs Clay was very pleasant, and very smiling, but her courtesies and smiles were more a matter of course. Anne had always felt that she would pretend what was proper on her arrival, but the complaisance of the others was unlooked for. They were evidently in excellent spirits, and she was soon to listen to the causes. They had no inclination to listen to her. After laying out for some compliments of being deeply regretted in their old neighbourhood, which Anne could not pay, they had only a few faint enquiries to make, before the talk must be all their own. Uppercross excited no interest, Kellynch very little: it was all Bath. They had the pleasure of assuring her that Bath more than answered their expectations in every respect. Their house was undoubtedly the best in Camden Place; their drawing-rooms had many decided advantages over all the others which they had either seen or heard of, and the superiority was not less in the style of the fitting-up, or the taste of the furniture. Their acquaintance was exceedingly sought after. Everybody was wanting to visit them. They had drawn back from many introductions, and still were perpetually having cards left by people of whom they knew nothing. Here were funds of enjoyment. Could Anne wonder that her father and sister were happy? She might not wonder, but she must sigh that her father should feel no degradation in his change, should see nothing to regret in the duties and dignity of the resident landholder, should find so much to be vain of in the littlenesses of a town; and she must sigh, and smile, and wonder too, as Elizabeth threw open the folding-doors and walked with exultation from one drawing-room to the other, boasting of their space; at the possibility of that woman, who had been mistress of Kellynch Hall, finding extent to be proud of between two walls, perhaps thirty feet asunder. But this was not all which they had to make them happy. They had Mr Elliot too. Anne had a great deal to hear of Mr Elliot. He was not only pardoned, they were delighted with him. He had been in Bath about a fortnight; (he had passed through Bath in November, in his way to London, when the intelligence of Sir Walter's being settled there had of course reached him, though only twenty-four hours in the place, but he had not been able to avail himself of it;) but he had now been a fortnight in Bath, and his first object on arriving, had been to leave his card in Camden Place, following it up by such assiduous endeavours to meet, and when they did meet, by such great openness of conduct, such readiness to apologize for the past, such solicitude to be received as a relation again, that their former good understanding was completely re-established. They had not a fault to find in him. He had explained away all the appearance of neglect on his own side. It had originated in misapprehension entirely. He had never had an idea of throwing himself off; he had feared that he was thrown off, but knew not why, and delicacy had kept him silent. Upon the hint of having spoken disrespectfully or carelessly of the family and the family honours, he was quite indignant. He, who had ever boasted of being an Elliot, and whose feelings, as to connection, were only too strict to suit the unfeudal tone of the present day. He was astonished, indeed, but his character and general conduct must refute it. He could refer Sir Walter to all who knew him; and certainly, the pains he had been taking on this, the first opportunity of reconciliation, to be restored to the footing of a relation and heir-presumptive, was a strong proof of his opinions on the subject. The circumstances of his marriage, too, were found to admit of much extenuation. This was an article not to be entered on by himself; but a very intimate friend of his, a Colonel Wallis, a highly respectable man, perfectly the gentleman, (and not an ill-looking man, Sir Walter added), who was living in very good style in Marlborough Buildings, and had, at his own particular request, been admitted to their acquaintance through Mr Elliot, had mentioned one or two things relative to the marriage, which made a material difference in the discredit of it. Colonel Wallis had known Mr Elliot long, had been well acquainted also with his wife, had perfectly understood the whole story. She was certainly not a woman of family, but well educated, accomplished, rich, and excessively in love with his friend. There had been the charm. She had sought him. Without that attraction, not all her money would have tempted Elliot, and Sir Walter was, moreover, assured of her having been a very fine woman. Here was a great deal to soften the business. A very fine woman with a large fortune, in love with him! Sir Walter seemed to admit it as complete apology; and though Elizabeth could not see the circumstance in quite so favourable a light, she allowed it be a great extenuation. Mr Elliot had called repeatedly, had dined with them once, evidently delighted by the distinction of being asked, for they gave no dinners in general; delighted, in short, by every proof of cousinly notice, and placing his whole happiness in being on intimate terms in Camden Place. Anne listened, but without quite understanding it. Allowances, large allowances, she knew, must be made for the ideas of those who spoke. She heard it all under embellishment. All that sounded extravagant or irrational in the progress of the reconciliation might have no origin but in the language of the relators. Still, however, she had the sensation of there being something more than immediately appeared, in Mr Elliot's wishing, after an interval of so many years, to be well received by them. In a worldly view, he had nothing to gain by being on terms with Sir Walter; nothing to risk by a state of variance. In all probability he was already the richer of the two, and the Kellynch estate would as surely be his hereafter as the title. A sensible man, and he had looked like a very sensible man, why should it be an object to him? She could only offer one solution; it was, perhaps, for Elizabeth's sake. There might really have been a liking formerly, though convenience and accident had drawn him a different way; and now that he could afford to please himself, he might mean to pay his addresses to her. Elizabeth was certainly very handsome, with well-bred, elegant manners, and her character might never have been penetrated by Mr Elliot, knowing her but in public, and when very young himself. How her temper and understanding might bear the investigation of his present keener time of life was another concern and rather a fearful one. Most earnestly did she wish that he might not be too nice, or too observant if Elizabeth were his object; and that Elizabeth was disposed to believe herself so, and that her friend Mrs Clay was encouraging the idea, seemed apparent by a glance or two between them, while Mr Elliot's frequent visits were talked of. Anne mentioned the glimpses she had had of him at Lyme, but without being much attended to. Oh! yes, perhaps, it had been Mr Elliot.\nThey did not know. It might be him, perhaps. They could not listen to her description of him. They were describing him themselves; Sir Walter especially. He did justice to his very gentlemanlike appearance, his air of elegance and fashion, his good shaped face, his sensible eye; but, at the same time, must lament his being very much\nunder-hung, a defect which time seemed to have increased; nor could he\npretend to say that ten years had not altered almost every feature for\nthe worse. Mr Elliot appeared to think that he (Sir Walter) was\nlooking exactly as he had done when they last parted; but Sir Walter had not been able to return the compliment entirely, which had\nembarrassed him. He did not mean to complain, however. Mr Elliot was\nbetter to look at than most men, and he had no objection to being seen\nwith him anywhere. Mr Elliot, and his friends in Marlborough Buildings, were talked of the whole evening. Colonel Wallis had been so impatient to be introduced\nto them! and Mr Elliot so anxious that he should! and there was a Mrs Wallis, at present known only to them by description, as she was in daily expectation of her confinement; but Mr Elliot spoke of her as a\nmost charming woman, quite worthy of being known in Camden Place, and as soon as she recovered they were to be acquainted. Sir Walter thought much of Mrs Wallis; she was said to be an excessively pretty woman, beautiful. He longed to see her. He hoped she might make some\namends for the many very plain faces he was continually passing in the\nstreets. The worst of Bath was the number of its plain women. He did\nnot mean to say that there were no pretty women, but the number of the\nplain was out of all proportion. He had frequently observed, as he\nwalked, that one handsome face would be followed by thirty, or\nfive-and-thirty frights; and once, as he had stood in a shop on Bond\nStreet, he had counted eighty-seven women go by, one after another,\nwithout there being a tolerable face among them. It had been a frosty\nmorning, to be sure, a sharp frost, which hardly one woman in a\nthousand could stand the test of. But still, there certainly were a\ndreadful multitude of ugly women in Bath; and as for the men! they\nwere infinitely worse. Such scarecrows as the streets were full of!\nIt was evident how little the women were used to the sight of anything\ntolerable, by the effect which a man of decent appearance produced. He\nhad never walked anywhere arm-in-arm with Colonel Wallis (who was a\nfine military figure, though sandy-haired) without observing that every\nwoman's eye was upon him; every woman's eye was sure to be upon Colonel\nWallis. Modest Sir Walter! He was not allowed to escape, however. His daughter and Mrs Clay united in hinting that Colonel Wallis's companion might have as good a figure as Colonel Wallis, and certainly was not sandy-haired. How is Mary looking? said Sir Walter, in the height of his good humour. The last time I saw her she had a red nose, but I hope that\nmay not happen every day. Oh! no, that must have been quite accidental. In general she has been\nin very good health and very good looks since Michaelmas. If I thought it would not tempt her to go out in sharp winds, and grow\ncoarse, I would send her a new hat and pelisse. Anne was considering whether she should venture to suggest that a gown, or a cap, would not be liable to any such misuse, when a knock at the door suspended everything. A knock at the door! and so late! It was\nten o'clock. Could it be Mr Elliot? They knew he was to dine in\nLansdown Crescent. It was possible that he might stop in his way home\nto ask them how they did. They could think of no one else. Mrs Clay\ndecidedly thought it Mr Elliot's knock. Mrs Clay was right. With all the state which a butler and foot-boy could give, Mr Elliot was ushered into the room. It was the same, the very same man, with no difference but of dress. Anne drew a little back, while the others received his compliments, and her sister his apologies for calling at so unusual an hour, but he\ncould not be so near without wishing to know that neither she nor her\nfriend had taken cold the day before, &c. &c; which was all as politely done, and as politely taken, as possible, but her part must follow then. Sir Walter talked of his youngest daughter; Mr Elliot\nmust give him leave to present him to his youngest daughter (there was no occasion for remembering Mary); and Anne, smiling and blushing, very becomingly shewed to Mr Elliot the pretty features which he had by no means forgotten, and instantly saw, with amusement at his little start of surprise, that he had not been at all aware of who she was. He looked completely astonished, but not more astonished than pleased; his eyes brightened! and with the most perfect alacrity he welcomed the relationship, alluded to the past, and entreated to be received as an acquaintance already. He was quite as good-looking as he had appeared at Lyme, his countenance improved by speaking, and his manners were so exactly what they ought to be, so polished, so easy, so particularly agreeable, that she could compare them in excellence to only one person's manners. They were not the same, but they were, perhaps, equally good. He sat down with them, and improved their conversation very much. There could be no doubt of his being a sensible man. Ten minutes were enough to certify that. His tone, his expressions, his choice of subject, his knowing where to stop; it was all the operation of a sensible, discerning mind. As soon as he could, he began to talk to her of Lyme, wanting to compare opinions respecting the place, but especially wanting to speak of the circumstance of their happening to be guests in the same inn at the same time; to give his own route, understand something of hers, and regret that he should have lost such an opportunity of paying his respects to her. She gave him a short account of her party and business at Lyme. His regret increased as he listened. He had spent his whole solitary evening in the room adjoining theirs; had heard voices, mirth continually; thought they must be a most delightful set of people, longed to be with them, but certainly without the smallest suspicion of his possessing the shadow of a right to introduce himself. If he had but asked who the party were! The name of Musgrove would have told him enough. Well, it\nwould serve to cure him of an absurd practice of never asking a\nquestion at an inn, which he had adopted, when quite a young man, on\nthe principal of its being very ungenteel to be curious.\n\n The notions of a young man of one or two and twenty,\" said he, as to\nwhat is necessary in manners to make him quite the thing, are more\nabsurd, I believe, than those of any other set of beings in the world.\nThe folly of the means they often employ is only to be equalled by the\nfolly of what they have in view. But he must not be addressing his reflections to Anne alone: he knew it; he was soon diffused again among the others, and it was only at intervals that he could return to Lyme. His enquiries, however, produced at length an account of the scene she had been engaged in there, soon after his leaving the place. Having alluded to an accident, he must hear the whole. When he questioned, Sir Walter and Elizabeth began to question also, but the difference in their manner of doing it could not be unfelt. She could only compare Mr Elliot to Lady Russell, in the wish of really comprehending what had passed, and in the degree of concern for what she must have suffered in witnessing it. He staid an hour with them. The elegant little clock on the mantel-piece had struck eleven with its silver sounds, and the watchman was beginning to be heard at a distance telling the same tale, before Mr Elliot or any of them seemed to feel that he had been there long. Anne could not have supposed it possible that her first evening in Camden Place could have passed so well! Chapter 16 There was one point which Anne, on returning to her family, would have been more thankful to ascertain even than Mr Elliot's being in love with Elizabeth, which was, her father's not being in love with Mrs Clay; and she was very far from easy about it, when she had been at home a few hours. On going down to breakfast the next morning, she found there had just been a decent pretence on the lady's side of meaning to leave them. She could imagine Mrs Clay to have said, that now Miss Anne was come, she could not suppose herself at all wanted; for Elizabeth was replying in a sort of whisper, That must not be any\nreason, indeed. I assure you I feel it none. She is nothing to me,\ncompared with you; and she was in full time to hear her father say, My dear madam, this must not be. As yet, you have seen nothing of\nBath. You have been here only to be useful. You must not run away\nfrom us now. You must stay to be acquainted with Mrs Wallis, the\nbeautiful Mrs Wallis. To your fine mind, I well know the sight of\nbeauty is a real gratification. He spoke and looked so much in earnest, that Anne was not surprised to see Mrs Clay stealing a glance at Elizabeth and herself. Her countenance, perhaps, might express some watchfulness; but the praise of the fine mind did not appear to excite a thought in her sister. The lady could not but yield to such joint entreaties, and promise to stay. In the course of the same morning, Anne and her father chancing to be alone together, he began to compliment her on her improved looks; he thought her less thin in her person, in her cheeks; her skin, her\ncomplexion, greatly improved; clearer, fresher. Had she been using any\nthing in particular? No, nothing. Merely Gowland, he supposed. No, nothing at all. Ha! he was surprised at that; and added, certainly you cannot do better than to continue as you are; you cannot\nbe better than well; or I should recommend Gowland, the constant use of\nGowland, during the spring months. Mrs Clay has been using it at my\nrecommendation, and you see what it has done for her. You see how it\nhas carried away her freckles. If Elizabeth could but have heard this! Such personal praise might have struck her, especially as it did not appear to Anne that the freckles were at all lessened. But everything must take its chance. The evil of a marriage would be much diminished, if Elizabeth were also to marry. As for herself, she might always command a home with Lady Russell. Lady Russell's composed mind and polite manners were put to some trial on this point, in her intercourse in Camden Place. The sight of Mrs Clay in such favour, and of Anne so overlooked, was a perpetual provocation to her there; and vexed her as much when she was away, as a person in Bath who drinks the water, gets all the new publications, and has a very large acquaintance, has time to be vexed. As Mr Elliot became known to her, she grew more charitable, or more indifferent, towards the others. His manners were an immediate recommendation; and on conversing with him she found the solid so fully supporting the superficial, that she was at first, as she told Anne, almost ready to exclaim, Can this be Mr Elliot? and could not seriously picture to herself a more agreeable or estimable man. Everything united in him; good understanding, correct opinions, knowledge of the world, and a warm heart. He had strong feelings of family attachment and family honour, without pride or weakness; he lived with the liberality of a man of fortune, without display; he judged for himself in everything essential, without defying public opinion in any point of worldly decorum. He was steady, observant, moderate, candid; never run away with by spirits or by selfishness, which fancied itself strong feeling; and yet, with a sensibility to what was amiable and lovely, and a value for all the felicities of domestic life, which characters of fancied enthusiasm and violent agitation seldom really possess. She was sure that he had not been happy in marriage. Colonel Wallis said it, and Lady Russell saw it; but it had been no unhappiness to sour his mind, nor (she began pretty soon to suspect) to prevent his thinking of a second choice. Her satisfaction in Mr Elliot outweighed all the plague of Mrs Clay. It was now some years since Anne had begun to learn that she and her excellent friend could sometimes think differently; and it did not surprise her, therefore, that Lady Russell should see nothing suspicious or inconsistent, nothing to require more motives than appeared, in Mr Elliot's great desire of a reconciliation. In Lady Russell's view, it was perfectly natural that Mr Elliot, at a mature time of life, should feel it a most desirable object, and what would very generally recommend him among all sensible people, to be on good terms with the head of his family; the simplest process in the world of time upon a head naturally clear, and only erring in the heyday of youth. Anne presumed, however, still to smile about it, and at last to mention Elizabeth. Lady Russell listened, and looked, and made only this cautious reply:--\"Elizabeth! very well; time will explain.\" It was a reference to the future, which Anne, after a little observation, felt she must submit to. She could determine nothing at present. In that house Elizabeth must be first; and she was in the habit of such general observance as Miss Elliot, that any particularity of attention seemed almost impossible. Mr Elliot, too, it must be remembered, had not been a widower seven months. A little delay on his side might be very excusable. In fact, Anne could never see the crape round his hat, without fearing that she was the inexcusable one, in attributing to him such imaginations; for though his marriage had not been very happy, still it had existed so many years that she could not comprehend a very rapid recovery from the awful impression of its being dissolved. However it might end, he was without any question their pleasantest acquaintance in Bath: she saw nobody equal to him; and it was a great indulgence now and then to talk to him about Lyme, which he seemed to have as lively a wish to see again, and to see more of, as herself. They went through the particulars of their first meeting a great many times. He gave her to understand that he had looked at her with some earnestness. She knew it well; and she remembered another person's look also. They did not always think alike. His value for rank and connexion she perceived was greater than hers. It was not merely complaisance, it must be a liking to the cause, which made him enter warmly into her father and sister's solicitudes on a subject which she thought unworthy to excite them. The Bath paper one morning announced the arrival of the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and her daughter, the Honourable Miss Carteret; and all the comfort of No. --, Camden Place, was swept away for many days; for the Dalrymples (in Anne's opinion, most unfortunately) were cousins of the Elliots; and the agony was how to introduce themselves properly. Anne had never seen her father and sister before in contact with nobility, and she must acknowledge herself disappointed. She had hoped better things from their high ideas of their own situation in life, and was reduced to form a wish which she had never foreseen; a wish that they had more pride; for our cousins Lady Dalrymple and Miss\nCarteret; our cousins, the Dalrymples, sounded in her ears all day long. Sir Walter had once been in company with the late viscount, but had never seen any of the rest of the family; and the difficulties of the case arose from there having been a suspension of all intercourse by letters of ceremony, ever since the death of that said late viscount, when, in consequence of a dangerous illness of Sir Walter's at the same time, there had been an unlucky omission at Kellynch. No letter of condolence had been sent to Ireland. The neglect had been visited on the head of the sinner; for when poor Lady Elliot died herself, no letter of condolence was received at Kellynch, and, consequently, there was but too much reason to apprehend that the Dalrymples considered the relationship as closed. How to have this anxious business set to rights, and be admitted as cousins again, was the question: and it was a question which, in a more rational manner, neither Lady Russell nor Mr Elliot thought unimportant. Family connexions were always worth\npreserving, good company always worth seeking; Lady Dalrymple had taken\na house, for three months, in Laura Place, and would be living in\nstyle. She had been at Bath the year before, and Lady Russell had\nheard her spoken of as a charming woman. It was very desirable that\nthe connexion should be renewed, if it could be done, without any\ncompromise of propriety on the side of the Elliots. Sir Walter, however, would choose his own means, and at last wrote a very fine letter of ample explanation, regret, and entreaty, to his right honourable cousin. Neither Lady Russell nor Mr Elliot could admire the letter; but it did all that was wanted, in bringing three lines of scrawl from the Dowager Viscountess. She was very much\nhonoured, and should be happy in their acquaintance. The toils of the business were over, the sweets began. They visited in Laura Place, they had the cards of Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and the Honourable Miss Carteret, to be arranged wherever they might be most visible: and Our cousins in Laura Place, --\"Our cousin, Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret,\" were talked of to everybody. Anne was ashamed. Had Lady Dalrymple and her daughter even been very agreeable, she would still have been ashamed of the agitation they created, but they were nothing. There was no superiority of manner, accomplishment, or understanding. Lady Dalrymple had acquired the name of a charming woman, because she had a smile and a civil answer for everybody. Miss Carteret, with still less to say, was so plain and so awkward, that she would never have been tolerated in Camden Place but for her birth. Lady Russell confessed she had expected something better; but yet it\nwas an acquaintance worth having; and when Anne ventured to speak her opinion of them to Mr Elliot, he agreed to their being nothing in themselves, but still maintained that, as a family connexion, as good company, as those who would collect good company around them, they had their value. Anne smiled and said, My idea of good company, Mr Elliot, is the company of clever,\nwell-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is\nwhat I call good company. You are mistaken, said he gently, that is not good company; that is\nthe best. Good company requires only birth, education, and manners,\nand with regard to education is not very nice. Birth and good manners\nare essential; but a little learning is by no means a dangerous thing\nin good company; on the contrary, it will do very well. My cousin Anne\nshakes her head. She is not satisfied. She is fastidious. My dear\ncousin (sitting down by her), you have a better right to be\nfastidious than almost any other woman I know; but will it answer?\nWill it make you happy? Will it not be wiser to accept the society of\nthose good ladies in Laura Place, and enjoy all the advantages of the\nconnexion as far as possible? You may depend upon it, that they will\nmove in the first set in Bath this winter, and as rank is rank, your\nbeing known to be related to them will have its use in fixing your\nfamily (our family let me say) in that degree of consideration which we\nmust all wish for. Yes, sighed Anne, we shall, indeed, be known to be related to them! then recollecting herself, and not wishing to be answered, she added, I certainly do think there has been by far too much trouble taken to\nprocure the acquaintance. I suppose (smiling) I have more pride than\nany of you; but I confess it does vex me, that we should be so\nsolicitous to have the relationship acknowledged, which we may be very\nsure is a matter of perfect indifference to them. Pardon me, dear cousin, you are unjust in your own claims. In London,\nperhaps, in your present quiet style of living, it might be as you say:\nbut in Bath; Sir Walter Elliot and his family will always be worth\nknowing: always acceptable as acquaintance. Well, said Anne, I certainly am proud, too proud to enjoy a welcome\nwhich depends so entirely upon place. I love your indignation, said he; it is very natural. But here you\nare in Bath, and the object is to be established here with all the\ncredit and dignity which ought to belong to Sir Walter Elliot. You\ntalk of being proud; I am called proud, I know, and I shall not wish to\nbelieve myself otherwise; for our pride, if investigated, would have\nthe same object, I have no doubt, though the kind may seem a little\ndifferent. In one point, I am sure, my dear cousin, (he continued, speaking lower, though there was no one else in the room) in one\npoint, I am sure, we must feel alike. We must feel that every addition\nto your father's society, among his equals or superiors, may be of use\nin diverting his thoughts from those who are beneath him. He looked, as he spoke, to the seat which Mrs Clay had been lately occupying: a sufficient explanation of what he particularly meant; and though Anne could not believe in their having the same sort of pride, she was pleased with him for not liking Mrs Clay; and her conscience admitted that his wishing to promote her father's getting great acquaintance was more than excusable in the view of defeating her. Chapter 17 While Sir Walter and Elizabeth were assiduously pushing their good fortune in Laura Place, Anne was renewing an acquaintance of a very different description. She had called on her former governess, and had heard from her of there being an old school-fellow in Bath, who had the two strong claims on her attention of past kindness and present suffering. Miss Hamilton, now Mrs Smith, had shewn her kindness in one of those periods of her life when it had been most valuable. Anne had gone unhappy to school, grieving for the loss of a mother whom she had dearly loved, feeling her separation from home, and suffering as a girl of fourteen, of strong sensibility and not high spirits, must suffer at such a time; and Miss Hamilton, three years older than herself, but still from the want of near relations and a settled home, remaining another year at school, had been useful and good to her in a way which had considerably lessened her misery, and could never be remembered with indifference. Miss Hamilton had left school, had married not long afterwards, was said to have married a man of fortune, and this was all that Anne had known of her, till now that their governess's account brought her situation forward in a more decided but very different form. She was a widow and poor. Her husband had been extravagant; and at his death, about two years before, had left his affairs dreadfully involved. She had had difficulties of every sort to contend with, and in addition to these distresses had been afflicted with a severe rheumatic fever, which, finally settling in her legs, had made her for the present a cripple. She had come to Bath on that account, and was now in lodgings near the hot baths, living in a very humble way, unable even to afford herself the comfort of a servant, and of course almost excluded from society. Their mutual friend answered for the satisfaction which a visit from Miss Elliot would give Mrs Smith, and Anne therefore lost no time in going. She mentioned nothing of what she had heard, or what she intended, at home. It would excite no proper interest there. She only consulted Lady Russell, who entered thoroughly into her sentiments, and was most happy to convey her as near to Mrs Smith's lodgings in Westgate Buildings, as Anne chose to be taken. The visit was paid, their acquaintance re-established, their interest in each other more than re-kindled. The first ten minutes had its awkwardness and its emotion. Twelve years were gone since they had parted, and each presented a somewhat different person from what the other had imagined. Twelve years had changed Anne from the blooming, silent, unformed girl of fifteen, to the elegant little woman of seven-and-twenty, with every beauty except bloom, and with manners as consciously right as they were invariably gentle; and twelve years had transformed the fine-looking, well-grown Miss Hamilton, in all the glow of health and confidence of superiority, into a poor, infirm, helpless widow, receiving the visit of her former protegee as a favour; but all that was uncomfortable in the meeting had soon passed away, and left only the interesting charm of remembering former partialities and talking over old times. Anne found in Mrs Smith the good sense and agreeable manners which she had almost ventured to depend on, and a disposition to converse and be cheerful beyond her expectation. Neither the dissipations of the past--and she had lived very much in the world--nor the restrictions of the present, neither sickness nor sorrow seemed to have closed her heart or ruined her spirits. In the course of a second visit she talked with great openness, and Anne's astonishment increased. She could scarcely imagine a more cheerless situation in itself than Mrs Smith's. She had been very fond of her husband: she had buried him. She had been used to affluence: it was gone. She had no child to connect her with life and happiness again, no relations to assist in the arrangement of perplexed affairs, no health to make all the rest supportable. Her accommodations were limited to a noisy parlour, and a dark bedroom behind, with no possibility of moving from one to the other without assistance, which there was only one servant in the house to afford, and she never quitted the house but to be conveyed into the warm bath. Yet, in spite of all this, Anne had reason to believe that she had moments only of languor and depression, to hours of occupation and enjoyment. How could it be? She watched, observed, reflected, and finally determined that this was not a case of fortitude or of resignation only. A submissive spirit might be patient, a strong understanding would supply resolution, but here was something more; here was that elasticity of mind, that disposition to be comforted, that power of turning readily from evil to good, and of finding employment which carried her out of herself, which was from nature alone. It was the choicest gift of Heaven; and Anne viewed her friend as one of those instances in which, by a merciful appointment, it seems designed to counterbalance almost every other want. There had been a time, Mrs Smith told her, when her spirits had nearly failed. She could not call herself an invalid now, compared with her state on first reaching Bath. Then she had, indeed, been a pitiable object; for she had caught cold on the journey, and had hardly taken possession of her lodgings before she was again confined to her bed and suffering under severe and constant pain; and all this among strangers, with the absolute necessity of having a regular nurse, and finances at that moment particularly unfit to meet any extraordinary expense. She had weathered it, however, and could truly say that it had done her good. It had increased her comforts by making her feel herself to be in good hands. She had seen too much of the world, to expect sudden or disinterested attachment anywhere, but her illness had proved to her that her landlady had a character to preserve, and would not use her ill; and she had been particularly fortunate in her nurse, as a sister of her landlady, a nurse by profession, and who had always a home in that house when unemployed, chanced to be at liberty just in time to attend her. And she, said Mrs Smith, besides nursing me most\nadmirably, has really proved an invaluable acquaintance. As soon as I\ncould use my hands she taught me to knit, which has been a great\namusement; and she put me in the way of making these little\nthread-cases, pin-cushions and card-racks, which you always find me so\nbusy about, and which supply me with the means of doing a little good\nto one or two very poor families in this neighbourhood. She had a\nlarge acquaintance, of course professionally, among those who can\nafford to buy, and she disposes of my merchandise. She always takes\nthe right time for applying. Everybody's heart is open, you know, when\nthey have recently escaped from severe pain, or are recovering the\nblessing of health, and Nurse Rooke thoroughly understands when to\nspeak. She is a shrewd, intelligent, sensible woman. Hers is a line\nfor seeing human nature; and she has a fund of good sense and\nobservation, which, as a companion, make her infinitely superior to\nthousands of those who having only received 'the best education in the\nworld,' know nothing worth attending to. Call it gossip, if you will,\nbut when Nurse Rooke has half an hour's leisure to bestow on me, she is\nsure to have something to relate that is entertaining and profitable:\nsomething that makes one know one's species better. One likes to hear\nwhat is going on, to be au fait as to the newest modes of being\ntrifling and silly. To me, who live so much alone, her conversation, I\nassure you, is a treat. Anne, far from wishing to cavil at the pleasure, replied, I can easily\nbelieve it. Women of that class have great opportunities, and if they\nare intelligent may be well worth listening to. Such varieties of\nhuman nature as they are in the habit of witnessing! And it is not\nmerely in its follies, that they are well read; for they see it\noccasionally under every circumstance that can be most interesting or\naffecting. What instances must pass before them of ardent,\ndisinterested, self-denying attachment, of heroism, fortitude,\npatience, resignation: of all the conflicts and all the sacrifices\nthat ennoble us most. A sick chamber may often furnish the worth of\nvolumes. Yes, said Mrs Smith more doubtingly, sometimes it may, though I fear\nits lessons are not often in the elevated style you describe. Here and\nthere, human nature may be great in times of trial; but generally\nspeaking, it is its weakness and not its strength that appears in a\nsick chamber: it is selfishness and impatience rather than generosity\nand fortitude, that one hears of. There is so little real friendship\nin the world! and unfortunately (speaking low and tremulously) there\nare so many who forget to think seriously till it is almost too late. Anne saw the misery of such feelings. The husband had not been what he ought, and the wife had been led among that part of mankind which made her think worse of the world than she hoped it deserved. It was but a passing emotion however with Mrs Smith; she shook it off, and soon added in a different tone-- I do not suppose the situation my friend Mrs Rooke is in at present,\nwill furnish much either to interest or edify me. She is only nursing\nMrs Wallis of Marlborough Buildings; a mere pretty, silly, expensive,\nfashionable woman, I believe; and of course will have nothing to report\nbut of lace and finery. I mean to make my profit of Mrs Wallis,\nhowever. She has plenty of money, and I intend she shall buy all the\nhigh-priced things I have in hand now. Anne had called several times on her friend, before the existence of such a person was known in Camden Place. At last, it became necessary to speak of her. Sir Walter, Elizabeth and Mrs Clay, returned one morning from Laura Place, with a sudden invitation from Lady Dalrymple for the same evening, and Anne was already engaged, to spend that evening in Westgate Buildings. She was not sorry for the excuse. They were only asked, she was sure, because Lady Dalrymple being kept at home by a bad cold, was glad to make use of the relationship which had been so pressed on her; and she declined on her own account with great alacrity--\"She was engaged to spend the evening with an old schoolfellow.\" They were not much interested in anything relative to Anne; but still there were questions enough asked, to make it understood what this old schoolfellow was; and Elizabeth was disdainful, and Sir Walter severe. Westgate Buildings! said he, and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be\nvisiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and\nwho was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to\nbe met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old\nand sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most\nextraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low\ncompany, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting\nto you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she\nis not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another\nday. What is her age? Forty? No, sir, she is not one-and-thirty; but I do not think I can put off\nmy engagement, because it is the only evening for some time which will\nat once suit her and myself. She goes into the warm bath to-morrow,\nand for the rest of the week, you know, we are engaged. But what does Lady Russell think of this acquaintance? asked Elizabeth. She sees nothing to blame in it, replied Anne; on the contrary, she\napproves it, and has generally taken me when I have called on Mrs\nSmith. Westgate Buildings must have been rather surprised by the appearance\nof a carriage drawn up near its pavement, observed Sir Walter. Sir\nHenry Russell's widow, indeed, has no honours to distinguish her arms,\nbut still it is a handsome equipage, and no doubt is well known to\nconvey a Miss Elliot. A widow Mrs Smith lodging in Westgate Buildings!\nA poor widow barely able to live, between thirty and forty; a mere Mrs\nSmith, an every-day Mrs Smith, of all people and all names in the\nworld, to be the chosen friend of Miss Anne Elliot, and to be preferred\nby her to her own family connections among the nobility of England and\nIreland! Mrs Smith! Such a name! Mrs Clay, who had been present while all this passed, now thought it advisable to leave the room, and Anne could have said much, and did long to say a little in defence of her friend's not very dissimilar claims to theirs, but her sense of personal respect to her father prevented her. She made no reply. She left it to himself to recollect, that Mrs Smith was not the only widow in Bath between thirty and forty, with little to live on, and no surname of dignity. Anne kept her appointment; the others kept theirs, and of course she heard the next morning that they had had a delightful evening. She had been the only one of the set absent, for Sir Walter and Elizabeth had not only been quite at her ladyship's service themselves, but had actually been happy to be employed by her in collecting others, and had been at the trouble of inviting both Lady Russell and Mr Elliot; and Mr Elliot had made a point of leaving Colonel Wallis early, and Lady Russell had fresh arranged all her evening engagements in order to wait on her. Anne had the whole history of all that such an evening could supply from Lady Russell. To her, its greatest interest must be, in having been very much talked of between her friend and Mr Elliot; in having been wished for, regretted, and at the same time honoured for staying away in such a cause. Her kind, compassionate visits to this old schoolfellow, sick and reduced, seemed to have quite delighted Mr Elliot. He thought her a most extraordinary young woman; in her temper, manners, mind, a model of female excellence. He could meet even Lady Russell in a discussion of her merits; and Anne could not be given to understand so much by her friend, could not know herself to be so highly rated by a sensible man, without many of those agreeable sensations which her friend meant to create. Lady Russell was now perfectly decided in her opinion of Mr Elliot. She was as much convinced of his meaning to gain Anne in time as of his deserving her, and was beginning to calculate the number of weeks which would free him from all the remaining restraints of widowhood, and leave him at liberty to exert his most open powers of pleasing. She would not speak to Anne with half the certainty she felt on the subject, she would venture on little more than hints of what might be hereafter, of a possible attachment on his side, of the desirableness of the alliance, supposing such attachment to be real and returned. Anne heard her, and made no violent exclamations; she only smiled, blushed, and gently shook her head. I am no match-maker, as you well know, said Lady Russell, being much\ntoo well aware of the uncertainty of all human events and calculations.\nI only mean that if Mr Elliot should some time hence pay his addresses\nto you, and if you should be disposed to accept him, I think there\nwould be every possibility of your being happy together. A most\nsuitable connection everybody must consider it, but I think it might be\na very happy one. Mr Elliot is an exceedingly agreeable man, and in many respects I\nthink highly of him, said Anne; but we should not suit. Lady Russell let this pass, and only said in rejoinder, I own that to\nbe able to regard you as the future mistress of Kellynch, the future\nLady Elliot, to look forward and see you occupying your dear mother's\nplace, succeeding to all her rights, and all her popularity, as well as\nto all her virtues, would be the highest possible gratification to me.\nYou are your mother's self in countenance and disposition; and if I\nmight be allowed to fancy you such as she was, in situation and name,\nand home, presiding and blessing in the same spot, and only superior to\nher in being more highly valued! My dearest Anne, it would give me\nmore delight than is often felt at my time of life! Anne was obliged to turn away, to rise, to walk to a distant table, and, leaning there in pretended employment, try to subdue the feelings this picture excited. For a few moments her imagination and her heart were bewitched. The idea of becoming what her mother had been; of having the precious name of Lady Elliot first revived in herself; of being restored to Kellynch, calling it her home again, her home for ever, was a charm which she could not immediately resist. Lady Russell said not another word, willing to leave the matter to its own operation; and believing that, could Mr Elliot at that moment with propriety have spoken for himself!--she believed, in short, what Anne did not believe. The same image of Mr Elliot speaking for himself brought Anne to composure again. The charm of Kellynch and of Lady\nElliot all faded away. She never could accept him. And it was not only that her feelings were still adverse to any man save one; her judgement, on a serious consideration of the possibilities of such a case was against Mr Elliot. Though they had now been acquainted a month, she could not be satisfied that she really knew his character. That he was a sensible man, an agreeable man, that he talked well, professed good opinions, seemed to judge properly and as a man of principle, this was all clear enough. He certainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on any one article of moral duty evidently transgressed; but yet she would have been afraid to answer for his conduct. She distrusted the past, if not the present. The names which occasionally dropt of former associates, the allusions to former practices and pursuits, suggested suspicions not favourable of what he had been. She saw that there had been bad habits; that Sunday travelling had been a common thing; that there had been a period of his life (and probably not a short one) when he had been, at least, careless in all serious matters; and, though he might now think very differently, who could answer for the true sentiments of a clever, cautious man, grown old enough to appreciate a fair character? How could it ever be ascertained that his mind was truly cleansed? Mr Elliot was rational, discreet, polished, but he was not open. There was never any burst of feeling, any warmth of indignation or delight, at the evil or good of others. This, to Anne, was a decided imperfection. Her early impressions were incurable. She prized the frank, the open-hearted, the eager character beyond all others. Warmth and enthusiasm did captivate her still. She felt that she could so much more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or said a careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind never varied, whose tongue never slipped. Mr Elliot was too generally agreeable. Various as were the tempers in her father's house, he pleased them all. He endured too well, stood too well with every body. He had spoken to her with some degree of openness of Mrs Clay; had appeared completely to see what Mrs Clay was about, and to hold her in contempt; and yet Mrs Clay found him as agreeable as any body. Lady Russell saw either less or more than her young friend, for she saw nothing to excite distrust. She could not imagine a man more exactly what he ought to be than Mr Elliot; nor did she ever enjoy a sweeter feeling than the hope of seeing him receive the hand of her beloved Anne in Kellynch church, in the course of the following autumn. Chapter 18 It was the beginning of February; and Anne, having been a month in Bath, was growing very eager for news from Uppercross and Lyme. She wanted to hear much more than Mary had communicated. It was three weeks since she had heard at all. She only knew that Henrietta was at home again; and that Louisa, though considered to be recovering fast, was still in Lyme; and she was thinking of them all very intently one evening, when a thicker letter than usual from Mary was delivered to her; and, to quicken the pleasure and surprise, with Admiral and Mrs Croft's compliments. The Crofts must be in Bath! A circumstance to interest her. They were people whom her heart turned to very naturally. What is this? cried Sir Walter. The Crofts have arrived in Bath?\nThe Crofts who rent Kellynch? What have they brought you? A letter from Uppercross Cottage, Sir. Oh! those letters are convenient passports. They secure an\nintroduction. I should have visited Admiral Croft, however, at any\nrate. I know what is due to my tenant. Anne could listen no longer; she could not even have told how the poor Admiral's complexion escaped; her letter engrossed her. It had been begun several days back. February 1st.\n\n My dear Anne,--I make no apology for my silence, because I know how little people think of letters in such a place as Bath. You must be a great deal too happy to care for Uppercross, which, as you well know, affords little to write about. We have had a very dull Christmas; Mr and Mrs Musgrove have not had one dinner party all the holidays. I do not reckon the Hayters as anybody. The holidays, however, are over at last: I believe no children ever had such long ones. I am sure I had not. The house was cleared yesterday, except of the little Harvilles; but you will be surprised to hear they have never gone home. Mrs Harville must be an odd mother to part with them so long. I do not understand it. They are not at all nice children, in my opinion; but Mrs Musgrove seems to like them quite as well, if not better, than her grandchildren. What dreadful weather we have had! It may not be felt in Bath, with your nice pavements; but in the country it is of some consequence. I have not had a creature call on me since the second week in January, except Charles Hayter, who had been calling much oftener than was welcome. Between ourselves, I think it a great pity Henrietta did not remain at Lyme as long as Louisa; it would have kept her a little out of his way. The carriage is gone to-day, to bring Louisa and the Harvilles to-morrow. We are not asked to dine with them, however, till the day after, Mrs Musgrove is so afraid of her being fatigued by the journey, which is not very likely, considering the care that will be taken of her; and it would be much more convenient to me to dine there to-morrow. I am glad you find Mr Elliot so agreeable, and wish I could be acquainted with him too; but I have my usual luck: I am always out of the way when any thing desirable is going on; always the last of my family to be noticed. What an immense time Mrs Clay has been staying with Elizabeth! Does she never mean to go away? But perhaps if she were to leave the room vacant, we might not be invited. Let me know what you think of this. I do not expect my children to be asked, you know. I can leave them at the Great House very well, for a month or six weeks. I have this moment heard that the Crofts are going to Bath almost immediately; they think the Admiral gouty. Charles heard it quite by chance; they have not had the civility to give me any notice, or of offering to take anything. I do not think they improve at all as neighbours. We see nothing of them, and this is really an instance of gross inattention. Charles joins me in love, and everything proper. Yours affectionately, Mary M---.\n\n I am sorry to say that I am very far from well; and Jemima has just told me that the butcher says there is a bad sore-throat very much about. I dare say I shall catch it; and my sore-throats, you know, are always worse than anybody's.\" So ended the first part, which had been afterwards put into an envelope, containing nearly as much more. I kept my letter open, that I might send you word how Louisa bore her\njourney, and now I am extremely glad I did, having a great deal to add.\nIn the first place, I had a note from Mrs Croft yesterday, offering to\nconvey anything to you; a very kind, friendly note indeed, addressed to\nme, just as it ought; I shall therefore be able to make my letter as\nlong as I like. The Admiral does not seem very ill, and I sincerely\nhope Bath will do him all the good he wants. I shall be truly glad to\nhave them back again. Our neighbourhood cannot spare such a pleasant\nfamily. But now for Louisa. I have something to communicate that will\nastonish you not a little. She and the Harvilles came on Tuesday very\nsafely, and in the evening we went to ask her how she did, when we were\nrather surprised not to find Captain Benwick of the party, for he had\nbeen invited as well as the Harvilles; and what do you think was the\nreason? Neither more nor less than his being in love with Louisa, and\nnot choosing to venture to Uppercross till he had had an answer from Mr\nMusgrove; for it was all settled between him and her before she came\naway, and he had written to her father by Captain Harville. True, upon\nmy honour! Are not you astonished? I shall be surprised at least if\nyou ever received a hint of it, for I never did. Mrs Musgrove protests\nsolemnly that she knew nothing of the matter. We are all very well\npleased, however, for though it is not equal to her marrying Captain\nWentworth, it is infinitely better than Charles Hayter; and Mr Musgrove\nhas written his consent, and Captain Benwick is expected to-day. Mrs\nHarville says her husband feels a good deal on his poor sister's\naccount; but, however, Louisa is a great favourite with both. Indeed,\nMrs Harville and I quite agree that we love her the better for having\nnursed her. Charles wonders what Captain Wentworth will say; but if\nyou remember, I never thought him attached to Louisa; I never could see\nanything of it. And this is the end, you see, of Captain Benwick's\nbeing supposed to be an admirer of yours. How Charles could take such\na thing into his head was always incomprehensible to me. I hope he\nwill be more agreeable now. Certainly not a great match for Louisa\nMusgrove, but a million times better than marrying among the Hayters. Mary need not have feared her sister's being in any degree prepared for the news. She had never in her life been more astonished. Captain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! It was almost too wonderful for belief, and it was with the greatest effort that she could remain in the room, preserve an air of calmness, and answer the common questions of the moment. Happily for her, they were not many. Sir Walter wanted to know whether the Crofts travelled with four horses, and whether they were likely to be situated in such a part of Bath as it might suit Miss Elliot and himself to visit in; but had little curiosity beyond. How is Mary? said Elizabeth; and without waiting for an answer, And\npray what brings the Crofts to Bath? They come on the Admiral's account. He is thought to be gouty. Gout and decrepitude! said Sir Walter. Poor old gentleman. Have they any acquaintance here? asked Elizabeth. I do not know; but I can hardly suppose that, at Admiral Croft's time\nof life, and in his profession, he should not have many acquaintance in\nsuch a place as this. I suspect, said Sir Walter coolly, that Admiral Croft will be best\nknown in Bath as the renter of Kellynch Hall. Elizabeth, may we\nventure to present him and his wife in Laura Place? Oh, no! I think not. Situated as we are with Lady Dalrymple, cousins,\nwe ought to be very careful not to embarrass her with acquaintance she\nmight not approve. If we were not related, it would not signify; but\nas cousins, she would feel scrupulous as to any proposal of ours. We\nhad better leave the Crofts to find their own level. There are several\nodd-looking men walking about here, who, I am told, are sailors. The\nCrofts will associate with them. This was Sir Walter and Elizabeth's share of interest in the letter; when Mrs Clay had paid her tribute of more decent attention, in an enquiry after Mrs Charles Musgrove, and her fine little boys, Anne was at liberty. In her own room, she tried to comprehend it. Well might Charles wonder how Captain Wentworth would feel! Perhaps he had quitted the field, had given Louisa up, had ceased to love, had found he did not love her. She could not endure the idea of treachery or levity, or anything akin to ill usage between him and his friend. She could not endure that such a friendship as theirs should be severed unfairly. Captain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! The high-spirited, joyous-talking Louisa Musgrove, and the dejected, thinking, feeling, reading, Captain Benwick, seemed each of them everything that would not suit the other. Their minds most dissimilar! Where could have been the attraction? The answer soon presented itself. It had been in situation. They had been thrown together several weeks; they had been living in the same small family party: since Henrietta's coming away, they must have been depending almost entirely on each other, and Louisa, just recovering from illness, had been in an interesting state, and Captain Benwick was not inconsolable. That was a point which Anne had not been able to avoid suspecting before; and instead of drawing the same conclusion as Mary, from the present course of events, they served only to confirm the idea of his having felt some dawning of tenderness toward herself. She did not mean, however, to derive much more from it to gratify her vanity, than Mary might have allowed. She was persuaded that any tolerably pleasing young woman who had listened and seemed to feel for him would have received the same compliment. He had an affectionate heart. He must love somebody. She saw no reason against their being happy. Louisa had fine naval fervour to begin with, and they would soon grow more alike. He would gain cheerfulness, and she would learn to be an enthusiast for Scott and Lord Byron; nay, that was probably learnt already; of course they had fallen in love over poetry. The idea of Louisa Musgrove turned into a person of literary taste, and sentimental reflection was amusing, but she had no doubt of its being so. The day at Lyme, the fall from the Cobb, might influence her health, her nerves, her courage, her character to the end of her life, as thoroughly as it appeared to have influenced her fate. The conclusion of the whole was, that if the woman who had been sensible of Captain Wentworth's merits could be allowed to prefer another man, there was nothing in the engagement to excite lasting wonder; and if Captain Wentworth lost no friend by it, certainly nothing to be regretted. No, it was not regret which made Anne's heart beat in spite of herself, and brought the colour into her cheeks when she thought of Captain Wentworth unshackled and free. She had some feelings which she was ashamed to investigate. They were too much like joy, senseless joy! She longed to see the Crofts; but when the meeting took place, it was evident that no rumour of the news had yet reached them. The visit of ceremony was paid and returned; and Louisa Musgrove was mentioned, and Captain Benwick, too, without even half a smile. The Crofts had placed themselves in lodgings in Gay Street, perfectly to Sir Walter's satisfaction. He was not at all ashamed of the acquaintance, and did, in fact, think and talk a great deal more about the Admiral, than the Admiral ever thought or talked about him. The Crofts knew quite as many people in Bath as they wished for, and considered their intercourse with the Elliots as a mere matter of form, and not in the least likely to afford them any pleasure. They brought with them their country habit of being almost always together. He was ordered to walk to keep off the gout, and Mrs Croft seemed to go shares with him in everything, and to walk for her life to do him good. Anne saw them wherever she went. Lady Russell took her out in her carriage almost every morning, and she never failed to think of them, and never failed to see them. Knowing their feelings as she did, it was a most attractive picture of happiness to her. She always watched them as long as she could, delighted to fancy she understood what they might be talking of, as they walked along in happy independence, or equally delighted to see the Admiral's hearty shake of the hand when he encountered an old friend, and observe their eagerness of conversation when occasionally forming into a little knot of the navy, Mrs Croft looking as intelligent and keen as any of the officers around her. Anne was too much engaged with Lady Russell to be often walking herself; but it so happened that one morning, about a week or ten days after the Croft's arrival, it suited her best to leave her friend, or her friend's carriage, in the lower part of the town, and return alone to Camden Place, and in walking up Milsom Street she had the good fortune to meet with the Admiral. He was standing by himself at a printshop window, with his hands behind him, in earnest contemplation of some print, and she not only might have passed him unseen, but was obliged to touch as well as address him before she could catch his notice. When he did perceive and acknowledge her, however, it was done with all his usual frankness and good humour. Ha! is it you? Thank\nyou, thank you. This is treating me like a friend. Here I am, you\nsee, staring at a picture. I can never get by this shop without\nstopping. But what a thing here is, by way of a boat! Do look at it.\nDid you ever see the like? What queer fellows your fine painters must\nbe, to think that anybody would venture their lives in such a shapeless\nold cockleshell as that? And yet here are two gentlemen stuck up in it\nmightily at their ease, and looking about them at the rocks and\nmountains, as if they were not to be upset the next moment, which they\ncertainly must be. I wonder where that boat was built! (laughing heartily); I would not venture over a horsepond in it. Well, (turning away), now, where are you bound? Can I go anywhere for you,\nor with you? Can I be of any use? None, I thank you, unless you will give me the pleasure of your\ncompany the little way our road lies together. I am going home. That I will, with all my heart, and farther, too. Yes, yes we will\nhave a snug walk together, and I have something to tell you as we go\nalong. There, take my arm; that's right; I do not feel comfortable if\nI have not a woman there. Lord! what a boat it is! taking a last look at the picture, as they began to be in motion. Did you say that you had something to tell me, sir? Yes, I have, presently. But here comes a friend, Captain Brigden; I\nshall only say, 'How d'ye do?' as we pass, however. I shall not stop.\n'How d'ye do?' Brigden stares to see anybody with me but my wife.\nShe, poor soul, is tied by the leg. She has a blister on one of her\nheels, as large as a three-shilling piece. If you look across the\nstreet, you will see Admiral Brand coming down and his brother. Shabby\nfellows, both of them! I am glad they are not on this side of the way.\nSophy cannot bear them. They played me a pitiful trick once: got away\nwith some of my best men. I will tell you the whole story another\ntime. There comes old Sir Archibald Drew and his grandson. Look, he\nsees us; he kisses his hand to you; he takes you for my wife. Ah! the\npeace has come too soon for that younker. Poor old Sir Archibald! How\ndo you like Bath, Miss Elliot? It suits us very well. We are always\nmeeting with some old friend or other; the streets full of them every\nmorning; sure to have plenty of chat; and then we get away from them\nall, and shut ourselves in our lodgings, and draw in our chairs, and\nare snug as if we were at Kellynch, ay, or as we used to be even at\nNorth Yarmouth and Deal. We do not like our lodgings here the worse, I\ncan tell you, for putting us in mind of those we first had at North\nYarmouth. The wind blows through one of the cupboards just in the same\nway. When they were got a little farther, Anne ventured to press again for what he had to communicate. She hoped when clear of Milsom Street to have her curiosity gratified; but she was still obliged to wait, for the Admiral had made up his mind not to begin till they had gained the greater space and quiet of Belmont; and as she was not really Mrs Croft, she must let him have his own way. As soon as they were fairly ascending Belmont, he began-- Well, now you shall hear something that will surprise you. But first\nof all, you must tell me the name of the young lady I am going to talk\nabout. That young lady, you know, that we have all been so concerned\nfor. The Miss Musgrove, that all this has been happening to. Her\nChristian name: I always forget her Christian name. Anne had been ashamed to appear to comprehend so soon as she really did; but now she could safely suggest the name of Louisa. Ay, ay, Miss Louisa Musgrove, that is the name. I wish young ladies\nhad not such a number of fine Christian names. I should never be out\nif they were all Sophys, or something of that sort. Well, this Miss\nLouisa, we all thought, you know, was to marry Frederick. He was\ncourting her week after week. The only wonder was, what they could be\nwaiting for, till the business at Lyme came; then, indeed, it was clear\nenough that they must wait till her brain was set to right. But even\nthen there was something odd in their way of going on. Instead of\nstaying at Lyme, he went off to Plymouth, and then he went off to see\nEdward. When we came back from Minehead he was gone down to Edward's,\nand there he has been ever since. We have seen nothing of him since\nNovember. Even Sophy could not understand it. But now, the matter has\ntaken the strangest turn of all; for this young lady, the same Miss\nMusgrove, instead of being to marry Frederick, is to marry James\nBenwick. You know James Benwick. A little. I am a little acquainted with Captain Benwick. Well, she is to marry him. Nay, most likely they are married already,\nfor I do not know what they should wait for. I thought Captain Benwick a very pleasing young man, said Anne, and\nI understand that he bears an excellent character. Oh! yes, yes, there is not a word to be said against James Benwick.\nHe is only a commander, it is true, made last summer, and these are bad\ntimes for getting on, but he has not another fault that I know of. An\nexcellent, good-hearted fellow, I assure you; a very active, zealous\nofficer too, which is more than you would think for, perhaps, for that\nsoft sort of manner does not do him justice. Indeed you are mistaken there, sir; I should never augur want of\nspirit from Captain Benwick's manners. I thought them particularly\npleasing, and I will answer for it, they would generally please. Well, well, ladies are the best judges; but James Benwick is rather\ntoo piano for me; and though very likely it is all our partiality,\nSophy and I cannot help thinking Frederick's manners better than his.\nThere is something about Frederick more to our taste. Anne was caught. She had only meant to oppose the too common idea of spirit and gentleness being incompatible with each other, not at all to represent Captain Benwick's manners as the very best that could possibly be; and, after a little hesitation, she was beginning to say, I was not entering into any comparison of the two friends, but the Admiral interrupted her with-- And the thing is certainly true. It is not a mere bit of gossip. We\nhave it from Frederick himself. His sister had a letter from him\nyesterday, in which he tells us of it, and he had just had it in a\nletter from Harville, written upon the spot, from Uppercross. I fancy\nthey are all at Uppercross. This was an opportunity which Anne could not resist; she said, therefore, I hope, Admiral, I hope there is nothing in the style of\nCaptain Wentworth's letter to make you and Mrs Croft particularly\nuneasy. It did seem, last autumn, as if there were an attachment\nbetween him and Louisa Musgrove; but I hope it may be understood to\nhave worn out on each side equally, and without violence. I hope his\nletter does not breathe the spirit of an ill-used man. Not at all, not at all; there is not an oath or a murmur from\nbeginning to end. Anne looked down to hide her smile. No, no; Frederick is not a man to whine and complain; he has too much\nspirit for that. If the girl likes another man better, it is very fit\nshe should have him. Certainly. But what I mean is, that I hope there is nothing in\nCaptain Wentworth's manner of writing to make you suppose he thinks\nhimself ill-used by his friend, which might appear, you know, without\nits being absolutely said. I should be very sorry that such a\nfriendship as has subsisted between him and Captain Benwick should be\ndestroyed, or even wounded, by a circumstance of this sort. Yes, yes, I understand you. But there is nothing at all of that\nnature in the letter. He does not give the least fling at Benwick;\ndoes not so much as say, 'I wonder at it, I have a reason of my own for\nwondering at it.' No, you would not guess, from his way of writing,\nthat he had ever thought of this Miss (what's her name?) for himself.\nHe very handsomely hopes they will be happy together; and there is\nnothing very unforgiving in that, I think. Anne did not receive the perfect conviction which the Admiral meant to convey, but it would have been useless to press the enquiry farther. She therefore satisfied herself with common-place remarks or quiet attention, and the Admiral had it all his own way. Poor Frederick! said he at last. Now he must begin all over again\nwith somebody else. I think we must get him to Bath. Sophy must\nwrite, and beg him to come to Bath. Here are pretty girls enough, I am\nsure. It would be of no use to go to Uppercross again, for that other\nMiss Musgrove, I find, is bespoke by her cousin, the young parson. Do\nnot you think, Miss Elliot, we had better try to get him to Bath? Chapter 19 While Admiral Croft was taking this walk with Anne, and expressing his wish of getting Captain Wentworth to Bath, Captain Wentworth was already on his way thither. Before Mrs Croft had written, he was arrived, and the very next time Anne walked out, she saw him. Mr Elliot was attending his two cousins and Mrs Clay. They were in Milsom Street. It began to rain, not much, but enough to make shelter desirable for women, and quite enough to make it very desirable for Miss Elliot to have the advantage of being conveyed home in Lady Dalrymple's carriage, which was seen waiting at a little distance; she, Anne, and Mrs Clay, therefore, turned into Molland's, while Mr Elliot stepped to Lady Dalrymple, to request her assistance. He soon joined them again, successful, of course; Lady Dalrymple would be most happy to take them home, and would call for them in a few minutes. Her ladyship's carriage was a barouche, and did not hold more than four with any comfort. Miss Carteret was with her mother; consequently it was not reasonable to expect accommodation for all the three Camden Place ladies. There could be no doubt as to Miss Elliot. Whoever suffered inconvenience, she must suffer none, but it occupied a little time to settle the point of civility between the other two. The rain was a mere trifle, and Anne was most sincere in preferring a walk with Mr Elliot. But the rain was also a mere trifle to Mrs Clay; she would hardly allow it even to drop at all, and her boots were so thick! much thicker than Miss Anne's; and, in short, her civility rendered her quite as anxious to be left to walk with Mr Elliot as Anne could be, and it was discussed between them with a generosity so polite and so determined, that the others were obliged to settle it for them; Miss Elliot maintaining that Mrs Clay had a little cold already, and Mr Elliot deciding on appeal, that his cousin Anne's boots were rather the thickest. It was fixed accordingly, that Mrs Clay should be of the party in the carriage; and they had just reached this point, when Anne, as she sat near the window, descried, most decidedly and distinctly, Captain Wentworth walking down the street. Her start was perceptible only to herself; but she instantly felt that she was the greatest simpleton in the world, the most unaccountable and absurd! For a few minutes she saw nothing before her; it was all confusion. She was lost, and when she had scolded back her senses, she found the others still waiting for the carriage, and Mr Elliot (always obliging) just setting off for Union Street on a commission of Mrs Clay's. She now felt a great inclination to go to the outer door; she wanted to see if it rained. Why was she to suspect herself of another motive? Captain Wentworth must be out of sight. She left her seat, she would go; one half of her should not be always so much wiser than the other half, or always suspecting the other of being worse than it was. She would see if it rained. She was sent back, however, in a moment by the entrance of Captain Wentworth himself, among a party of gentlemen and ladies, evidently his acquaintance, and whom he must have joined a little below Milsom Street. He was more obviously struck and confused by the sight of her than she had ever observed before; he looked quite red. For the first time, since their renewed acquaintance, she felt that she was betraying the least sensibility of the two. She had the advantage of him in the preparation of the last few moments. All the overpowering, blinding, bewildering, first effects of strong surprise were over with her. Still, however, she had enough to feel! It was agitation, pain, pleasure, a something between delight and misery. He spoke to her, and then turned away. The character of his manner was embarrassment. She could not have called it either cold or friendly, or anything so certainly as embarrassed. After a short interval, however, he came towards her, and spoke again. Mutual enquiries on common subjects passed: neither of them, probably, much the wiser for what they heard, and Anne continuing fully sensible of his being less at ease than formerly. They had by dint of being so very much together, got to speak to each other with a considerable portion of apparent indifference and calmness; but he could not do it now. Time had changed him, or Louisa had changed him. There was consciousness of some sort or other. He looked very well, not as if he had been suffering in health or spirits, and he talked of Uppercross, of the Musgroves, nay, even of Louisa, and had even a momentary look of his own arch significance as he named her; but yet it was Captain Wentworth not comfortable, not easy, not able to feign that he was. It did not surprise, but it grieved Anne to observe that Elizabeth would not know him. She saw that he saw Elizabeth, that Elizabeth saw him, that there was complete internal recognition on each side; she was convinced that he was ready to be acknowledged as an acquaintance, expecting it, and she had the pain of seeing her sister turn away with unalterable coldness. Lady Dalrymple's carriage, for which Miss Elliot was growing very impatient, now drew up; the servant came in to announce it. It was beginning to rain again, and altogether there was a delay, and a bustle, and a talking, which must make all the little crowd in the shop understand that Lady Dalrymple was calling to convey Miss Elliot. At last Miss Elliot and her friend, unattended but by the servant, (for there was no cousin returned), were walking off; and Captain Wentworth, watching them, turned again to Anne, and by manner, rather than words, was offering his services to her. I am much obliged to you, was her answer, but I am not going with\nthem. The carriage would not accommodate so many. I walk: I prefer\nwalking. But it rains. Oh! very little, Nothing that I regard. After a moment's pause he said: Though I came only yesterday, I have\nequipped myself properly for Bath already, you see, (pointing to a new umbrella); I wish you would make use of it, if you are determined to\nwalk; though I think it would be more prudent to let me get you a\nchair. She was very much obliged to him, but declined it all, repeating her conviction, that the rain would come to nothing at present, and adding, I am only waiting for Mr Elliot. He will be here in a moment, I am\nsure. She had hardly spoken the words when Mr Elliot walked in. Captain Wentworth recollected him perfectly. There was no difference between him and the man who had stood on the steps at Lyme, admiring Anne as she passed, except in the air and look and manner of the privileged relation and friend. He came in with eagerness, appeared to see and think only of her, apologised for his stay, was grieved to have kept her waiting, and anxious to get her away without further loss of time and before the rain increased; and in another moment they walked off together, her arm under his, a gentle and embarrassed glance, and a Good morning to you! being all that she had time for, as she passed away. As soon as they were out of sight, the ladies of Captain Wentworth's party began talking of them. Mr Elliot does not dislike his cousin, I fancy? Oh! no, that is clear enough. One can guess what will happen there.\nHe is always with them; half lives in the family, I believe. What a\nvery good-looking man! Yes, and Miss Atkinson, who dined with him once at the Wallises, says\nhe is the most agreeable man she ever was in company with. She is pretty, I think; Anne Elliot; very pretty, when one comes to\nlook at her. It is not the fashion to say so, but I confess I admire\nher more than her sister. Oh! so do I. And so do I. No comparison. But the men are all wild after Miss\nElliot. Anne is too delicate for them. Anne would have been particularly obliged to her cousin, if he would have walked by her side all the way to Camden Place, without saying a word. She had never found it so difficult to listen to him, though nothing could exceed his solicitude and care, and though his subjects were principally such as were wont to be always interesting: praise, warm, just, and discriminating, of Lady Russell, and insinuations highly rational against Mrs Clay. But just now she could think only of Captain Wentworth. She could not understand his present feelings, whether he were really suffering much from disappointment or not; and till that point were settled, she could not be quite herself. She hoped to be wise and reasonable in time; but alas! alas! she must confess to herself that she was not wise yet. Another circumstance very essential for her to know, was how long he meant to be in Bath; he had not mentioned it, or she could not recollect it. He might be only passing through. But it was more probable that he should be come to stay. In that case, so liable as every body was to meet every body in Bath, Lady Russell would in all likelihood see him somewhere. Would she recollect him? How would it all be? She had already been obliged to tell Lady Russell that Louisa Musgrove was to marry Captain Benwick. It had cost her something to encounter Lady Russell's surprise; and now, if she were by any chance to be thrown into company with Captain Wentworth, her imperfect knowledge of the matter might add another shade of prejudice against him. The following morning Anne was out with her friend, and for the first hour, in an incessant and fearful sort of watch for him in vain; but at last, in returning down Pulteney Street, she distinguished him on the right hand pavement at such a distance as to have him in view the greater part of the street. There were many other men about him, many groups walking the same way, but there was no mistaking him. She looked instinctively at Lady Russell; but not from any mad idea of her recognising him so soon as she did herself. No, it was not to be supposed that Lady Russell would perceive him till they were nearly opposite. She looked at her however, from time to time, anxiously; and when the moment approached which must point him out, though not daring to look again (for her own countenance she knew was unfit to be seen), she was yet perfectly conscious of Lady Russell's eyes being turned exactly in the direction for him--of her being, in short, intently observing him. She could thoroughly comprehend the sort of fascination he must possess over Lady Russell's mind, the difficulty it must be for her to withdraw her eyes, the astonishment she must be feeling that eight or nine years should have passed over him, and in foreign climes and in active service too, without robbing him of one personal grace! At last, Lady Russell drew back her head. Now, how would she speak of\nhim? You will wonder, said she, what has been fixing my eye so long; but\nI was looking after some window-curtains, which Lady Alicia and Mrs\nFrankland were telling me of last night. They described the\ndrawing-room window-curtains of one of the houses on this side of the\nway, and this part of the street, as being the handsomest and best hung\nof any in Bath, but could not recollect the exact number, and I have\nbeen trying to find out which it could be; but I confess I can see no\ncurtains hereabouts that answer their description. Anne sighed and blushed and smiled, in pity and disdain, either at her friend or herself. The part which provoked her most, was that in all this waste of foresight and caution, she should have lost the right moment for seeing whether he saw them. A day or two passed without producing anything. The theatre or the rooms, where he was most likely to be, were not fashionable enough for the Elliots, whose evening amusements were solely in the elegant stupidity of private parties, in which they were getting more and more engaged; and Anne, wearied of such a state of stagnation, sick of knowing nothing, and fancying herself stronger because her strength was not tried, was quite impatient for the concert evening. It was a concert for the benefit of a person patronised by Lady Dalrymple. Of course they must attend. It was really expected to be a good one, and Captain Wentworth was very fond of music. If she could only have a few minutes conversation with him again, she fancied she should be satisfied; and as to the power of addressing him, she felt all over courage if the opportunity occurred. Elizabeth had turned from him, Lady Russell overlooked him; her nerves were strengthened by these circumstances; she felt that she owed him attention. She had once partly promised Mrs Smith to spend the evening with her; but in a short hurried call she excused herself and put it off, with the more decided promise of a longer visit on the morrow. Mrs Smith gave a most good-humoured acquiescence. By all means, said she; only tell me all about it, when you do come.\nWho is your party? Anne named them all. Mrs Smith made no reply; but when she was leaving her said, and with an expression half serious, half arch, Well, I\nheartily wish your concert may answer; and do not fail me to-morrow if\nyou can come; for I begin to have a foreboding that I may not have many\nmore visits from you. Anne was startled and confused; but after standing in a moment's suspense, was obliged, and not sorry to be obliged, to hurry away. Chapter 20 Sir Walter, his two daughters, and Mrs Clay, were the earliest of all their party at the rooms in the evening; and as Lady Dalrymple must be waited for, they took their station by one of the fires in the Octagon Room. But hardly were they so settled, when the door opened again, and Captain Wentworth walked in alone. Anne was the nearest to him, and making yet a little advance, she instantly spoke. He was preparing only to bow and pass on, but her gentle How do you do? brought him out of the straight line to stand near her, and make enquiries in return, in spite of the formidable father and sister in the back ground. Their being in the back ground was a support to Anne; she knew nothing of their looks, and felt equal to everything which she believed right to be done. While they were speaking, a whispering between her father and Elizabeth caught her ear. She could not distinguish, but she must guess the subject; and on Captain Wentworth's making a distant bow, she comprehended that her father had judged so well as to give him that simple acknowledgement of acquaintance, and she was just in time by a side glance to see a slight curtsey from Elizabeth herself. This, though late, and reluctant, and ungracious, was yet better than nothing, and her spirits improved. After talking, however, of the weather, and Bath, and the concert, their conversation began to flag, and so little was said at last, that she was expecting him to go every moment, but he did not; he seemed in no hurry to leave her; and presently with renewed spirit, with a little smile, a little glow, he said-- I have hardly seen you since our day at Lyme. I am afraid you must\nhave suffered from the shock, and the more from its not overpowering\nyou at the time. She assured him that she had not. It was a frightful hour, said he, a frightful day! and he passed his hand across his eyes, as if the remembrance were still too painful, but in a moment, half smiling again, added, The day has produced some\neffects however; has had some consequences which must be considered as\nthe very reverse of frightful. When you had the presence of mind to\nsuggest that Benwick would be the properest person to fetch a surgeon,\nyou could have little idea of his being eventually one of those most\nconcerned in her recovery. Certainly I could have none. But it appears--I should hope it would\nbe a very happy match. There are on both sides good principles and\ngood temper. Yes, said he, looking not exactly forward; but there, I think, ends\nthe resemblance. With all my soul I wish them happy, and rejoice over\nevery circumstance in favour of it. They have no difficulties to\ncontend with at home, no opposition, no caprice, no delays. The\nMusgroves are behaving like themselves, most honourably and kindly,\nonly anxious with true parental hearts to promote their daughter's\ncomfort. All this is much, very much in favour of their happiness;\nmore than perhaps-- He stopped. A sudden recollection seemed to occur, and to give him some taste of that emotion which was reddening Anne's cheeks and fixing her eyes on the ground. After clearing his throat, however, he proceeded thus-- I confess that I do think there is a disparity, too great a disparity,\nand in a point no less essential than mind. I regard Louisa Musgrove\nas a very amiable, sweet-tempered girl, and not deficient in\nunderstanding, but Benwick is something more. He is a clever man, a\nreading man; and I confess, that I do consider his attaching himself to\nher with some surprise. Had it been the effect of gratitude, had he\nlearnt to love her, because he believed her to be preferring him, it\nwould have been another thing. But I have no reason to suppose it so.\nIt seems, on the contrary, to have been a perfectly spontaneous,\nuntaught feeling on his side, and this surprises me. A man like him,\nin his situation! with a heart pierced, wounded, almost broken! Fanny\nHarville was a very superior creature, and his attachment to her was\nindeed attachment. A man does not recover from such a devotion of the\nheart to such a woman. He ought not; he does not. Either from the consciousness, however, that his friend had recovered, or from other consciousness, he went no farther; and Anne who, in spite of the agitated voice in which the latter part had been uttered, and in spite of all the various noises of the room, the almost ceaseless slam of the door, and ceaseless buzz of persons walking through, had distinguished every word, was struck, gratified, confused, and beginning to breathe very quick, and feel an hundred things in a moment. It was impossible for her to enter on such a subject; and yet, after a pause, feeling the necessity of speaking, and having not the smallest wish for a total change, she only deviated so far as to say-- You were a good while at Lyme, I think? About a fortnight. I could not leave it till Louisa's doing well was\nquite ascertained. I had been too deeply concerned in the mischief to\nbe soon at peace. It had been my doing, solely mine. She would not\nhave been obstinate if I had not been weak. The country round Lyme is\nvery fine. I walked and rode a great deal; and the more I saw, the\nmore I found to admire. I should very much like to see Lyme again, said Anne. Indeed! I should not have supposed that you could have found anything\nin Lyme to inspire such a feeling. The horror and distress you were\ninvolved in, the stretch of mind, the wear of spirits! I should have\nthought your last impressions of Lyme must have been strong disgust. The last hours were certainly very painful, replied Anne; but when\npain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure. One does\nnot love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been\nall suffering, nothing but suffering, which was by no means the case at\nLyme. We were only in anxiety and distress during the last two hours,\nand previously there had been a great deal of enjoyment. So much\nnovelty and beauty! I have travelled so little, that every fresh place\nwould be interesting to me; but there is real beauty at Lyme; and in\nshort (with a faint blush at some recollections), altogether my\nimpressions of the place are very agreeable. As she ceased, the entrance door opened again, and the very party appeared for whom they were waiting. Lady Dalrymple, Lady Dalrymple, was the rejoicing sound; and with all the eagerness compatible with anxious elegance, Sir Walter and his two ladies stepped forward to meet her. Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, escorted by Mr Elliot and Colonel Wallis, who had happened to arrive nearly at the same instant, advanced into the room. The others joined them, and it was a group in which Anne found herself also necessarily included. She was divided from Captain Wentworth. Their interesting, almost too interesting conversation must be broken up for a time, but slight was the penance compared with the happiness which brought it on! She had learnt, in the last ten minutes, more of his feelings towards Louisa, more of all his feelings than she dared to think of; and she gave herself up to the demands of the party, to the needful civilities of the moment, with exquisite, though agitated sensations. She was in good humour with all. She had received ideas which disposed her to be courteous and kind to all, and to pity every one, as being less happy than herself. The delightful emotions were a little subdued, when on stepping back from the group, to be joined again by Captain Wentworth, she saw that he was gone. She was just in time to see him turn into the Concert Room. He was gone; he had disappeared, she felt a moment's regret. But they should meet again. He would look for her, he would find her\nout before the evening were over, and at present, perhaps, it was as\nwell to be asunder. She was in need of a little interval for\nrecollection. Upon Lady Russell's appearance soon afterwards, the whole party was collected, and all that remained was to marshal themselves, and proceed into the Concert Room; and be of all the consequence in their power, draw as many eyes, excite as many whispers, and disturb as many people as they could. Very, very happy were both Elizabeth and Anne Elliot as they walked in. Elizabeth arm in arm with Miss Carteret, and looking on the broad back of the dowager Viscountess Dalrymple before her, had nothing to wish for which did not seem within her reach; and Anne--but it would be an insult to the nature of Anne's felicity, to draw any comparison between it and her sister's; the origin of one all selfish vanity, of the other all generous attachment. Anne saw nothing, thought nothing of the brilliancy of the room. Her happiness was from within. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks glowed; but she knew nothing about it. She was thinking only of the last half hour, and as they passed to their seats, her mind took a hasty range over it. His choice of subjects, his expressions, and still more his manner and look, had been such as she could see in only one light. His opinion of Louisa Musgrove's inferiority, an opinion which he had seemed solicitous to give, his wonder at Captain Benwick, his feelings as to a first, strong attachment; sentences begun which he could not finish, his half averted eyes and more than half expressive glance, all, all declared that he had a heart returning to her at least; that anger, resentment, avoidance, were no more; and that they were succeeded, not merely by friendship and regard, but by the tenderness of the past. Yes, some share of the tenderness of the past. She could not contemplate the change as implying less. He must love her. These were thoughts, with their attendant visions, which occupied and flurried her too much to leave her any power of observation; and she passed along the room without having a glimpse of him, without even trying to discern him. When their places were determined on, and they were all properly arranged, she looked round to see if he should happen to be in the same part of the room, but he was not; her eye could not reach him; and the concert being just opening, she must consent for a time to be happy in a humbler way. The party was divided and disposed of on two contiguous benches: Anne was among those on the foremost, and Mr Elliot had manoeuvred so well, with the assistance of his friend Colonel Wallis, as to have a seat by her. Miss Elliot, surrounded by her cousins, and the principal object of Colonel Wallis's gallantry, was quite contented. Anne's mind was in a most favourable state for the entertainment of the evening; it was just occupation enough: she had feelings for the tender, spirits for the gay, attention for the scientific, and patience for the wearisome; and had never liked a concert better, at least during the first act. Towards the close of it, in the interval succeeding an Italian song, she explained the words of the song to Mr Elliot. They had a concert bill between them. This, said she, is nearly the sense, or rather the meaning of the\nwords, for certainly the sense of an Italian love-song must not be\ntalked of, but it is as nearly the meaning as I can give; for I do not\npretend to understand the language. I am a very poor Italian scholar. Yes, yes, I see you are. I see you know nothing of the matter. You\nhave only knowledge enough of the language to translate at sight these\ninverted, transposed, curtailed Italian lines, into clear,\ncomprehensible, elegant English. You need not say anything more of\nyour ignorance. Here is complete proof. I will not oppose such kind politeness; but I should be sorry to be\nexamined by a real proficient. I have not had the pleasure of visiting in Camden Place so long, replied he, without knowing something of Miss Anne Elliot; and I do\nregard her as one who is too modest for the world in general to be\naware of half her accomplishments, and too highly accomplished for\nmodesty to be natural in any other woman. For shame! for shame! this is too much flattery. I forget what we are\nto have next, turning to the bill. Perhaps, said Mr Elliot, speaking low, I have had a longer\nacquaintance with your character than you are aware of. Indeed! How so? You can have been acquainted with it only since I\ncame to Bath, excepting as you might hear me previously spoken of in my\nown family. I knew you by report long before you came to Bath. I had heard you\ndescribed by those who knew you intimately. I have been acquainted\nwith you by character many years. Your person, your disposition,\naccomplishments, manner; they were all present to me. Mr Elliot was not disappointed in the interest he hoped to raise. No one can withstand the charm of such a mystery. To have been described long ago to a recent acquaintance, by nameless people, is irresistible; and Anne was all curiosity. She wondered, and questioned him eagerly; but in vain. He delighted in being asked, but he would not tell. No, no, some time or other, perhaps, but not now. He would mention no\nnames now; but such, he could assure her, had been the fact. He had\nmany years ago received such a description of Miss Anne Elliot as had\ninspired him with the highest idea of her merit, and excited the\nwarmest curiosity to know her. Anne could think of no one so likely to have spoken with partiality of her many years ago as the Mr Wentworth of Monkford, Captain Wentworth's brother. He might have been in Mr Elliot's company, but she had not courage to ask the question. The name of Anne Elliot, said he, has long had an interesting sound\nto me. Very long has it possessed a charm over my fancy; and, if I\ndared, I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change. Such, she believed, were his words; but scarcely had she received their sound, than her attention was caught by other sounds immediately behind her, which rendered every thing else trivial. Her father and Lady Dalrymple were speaking. A well-looking man, said Sir Walter, a very well-looking man. A very fine young man indeed! said Lady Dalrymple. More air than\none often sees in Bath. Irish, I dare say. No, I just know his name. A bowing acquaintance. Wentworth; Captain\nWentworth of the navy. His sister married my tenant in Somersetshire,\nthe Croft, who rents Kellynch. Before Sir Walter had reached this point, Anne's eyes had caught the right direction, and distinguished Captain Wentworth standing among a cluster of men at a little distance. As her eyes fell on him, his seemed to be withdrawn from her. It had that appearance. It seemed as if she had been one moment too late; and as long as she dared observe, he did not look again: but the performance was recommencing, and she was forced to seem to restore her attention to the orchestra and look straight forward. When she could give another glance, he had moved away. He could not have come nearer to her if he would; she was so surrounded and shut in: but she would rather have caught his eye. Mr Elliot's speech, too, distressed her. She had no longer any inclination to talk to him. She wished him not so near her. The first act was over. Now she hoped for some beneficial change; and, after a period of nothing-saying amongst the party, some of them did decide on going in quest of tea. Anne was one of the few who did not choose to move. She remained in her seat, and so did Lady Russell; but she had the pleasure of getting rid of Mr Elliot; and she did not mean, whatever she might feel on Lady Russell's account, to shrink from conversation with Captain Wentworth, if he gave her the opportunity. She was persuaded by Lady Russell's countenance that she had seen him. He did not come however. Anne sometimes fancied she discerned him at a distance, but he never came. The anxious interval wore away unproductively. The others returned, the room filled again, benches were reclaimed and repossessed, and another hour of pleasure or of penance was to be sat out, another hour of music was to give delight or the gapes, as real or affected taste for it prevailed. To Anne, it chiefly wore the prospect of an hour of agitation. She could not quit that room in peace without seeing Captain Wentworth once more, without the interchange of one friendly look. In re-settling themselves there were now many changes, the result of which was favourable for her. Colonel Wallis declined sitting down again, and Mr Elliot was invited by Elizabeth and Miss Carteret, in a manner not to be refused, to sit between them; and by some other removals, and a little scheming of her own, Anne was enabled to place herself much nearer the end of the bench than she had been before, much more within reach of a passer-by. She could not do so, without comparing herself with Miss Larolles, the inimitable Miss Larolles; but still she did it, and not with much happier effect; though by what seemed prosperity in the shape of an early abdication in her next neighbours, she found herself at the very end of the bench before the concert closed. Such was her situation, with a vacant space at hand, when Captain Wentworth was again in sight. She saw him not far off. He saw her too; yet he looked grave, and seemed irresolute, and only by very slow degrees came at last near enough to speak to her. She felt that something must be the matter. The change was indubitable. The difference between his present air and what it had been in the Octagon Room was strikingly great. Why was it? She thought of her father, of Lady Russell. Could there have been any unpleasant glances? He began by speaking of the concert gravely, more like the Captain Wentworth of Uppercross; owned himself disappointed, had expected singing; and in short, must confess that he should not be sorry when it was over. Anne replied, and spoke in defence of the performance so well, and yet in allowance for his feelings so pleasantly, that his countenance improved, and he replied again with almost a smile. They talked for a few minutes more; the improvement held; he even looked down towards the bench, as if he saw a place on it well worth occupying; when at that moment a touch on her shoulder obliged Anne to turn round. It came from Mr Elliot. He begged her pardon, but she must be applied to, to explain Italian again. Miss Carteret was very anxious to have a general idea of what was next to be sung. Anne could not refuse; but never had she sacrificed to politeness with a more suffering spirit. A few minutes, though as few as possible, were inevitably consumed; and when her own mistress again, when able to turn and look as she had done before, she found herself accosted by Captain Wentworth, in a reserved yet hurried sort of farewell. He must wish her good night; he was\ngoing; he should get home as fast as he could. Is not this song worth staying for? said Anne, suddenly struck by an idea which made her yet more anxious to be encouraging. No! he replied impressively, there is nothing worth my staying for; and he was gone directly. Jealousy of Mr Elliot! It was the only intelligible motive. Captain Wentworth jealous of her affection! Could she have believed it a week ago; three hours ago! For a moment the gratification was exquisite. But, alas! there were very different thoughts to succeed. How was such jealousy to be quieted? How was the truth to reach him? How, in all the peculiar disadvantages of their respective situations, would he ever learn of her real sentiments? It was misery to think of Mr Elliot's attentions. Their evil was incalculable. Chapter 21 Anne recollected with pleasure the next morning her promise of going to Mrs Smith, meaning that it should engage her from home at the time when Mr Elliot would be most likely to call; for to avoid Mr Elliot was almost a first object. She felt a great deal of good-will towards him. In spite of the mischief of his attentions, she owed him gratitude and regard, perhaps compassion. She could not help thinking much of the extraordinary circumstances attending their acquaintance, of the right which he seemed to have to interest her, by everything in situation, by his own sentiments, by his early prepossession. It was altogether very extraordinary; flattering, but painful. There was much to regret. How she might have felt had there been no Captain Wentworth in the case, was not worth enquiry; for there was a Captain Wentworth; and be the conclusion of the present suspense good or bad, her affection would be his for ever. Their union, she believed, could not divide her more from other men, than their final separation. Prettier musings of high-wrought love and eternal constancy, could never have passed along the streets of Bath, than Anne was sporting with from Camden Place to Westgate Buildings. It was almost enough to spread purification and perfume all the way. She was sure of a pleasant reception; and her friend seemed this morning particularly obliged to her for coming, seemed hardly to have expected her, though it had been an appointment. An account of the concert was immediately claimed; and Anne's recollections of the concert were quite happy enough to animate her features and make her rejoice to talk of it. All that she could tell she told most gladly, but the all was little for one who had been there, and unsatisfactory for such an enquirer as Mrs Smith, who had already heard, through the short cut of a laundress and a waiter, rather more of the general success and produce of the evening than Anne could relate, and who now asked in vain for several particulars of the company. Everybody of any consequence or notoriety in Bath was well know by name to Mrs Smith. The little Durands were there, I conclude, said she, with their\nmouths open to catch the music, like unfledged sparrows ready to be\nfed. They never miss a concert. Yes; I did not see them myself, but I heard Mr Elliot say they were in\nthe room. The Ibbotsons, were they there? and the two new beauties, with the\ntall Irish officer, who is talked of for one of them. I do not know. I do not think they were. Old Lady Mary Maclean? I need not ask after her. She never misses, I\nknow; and you must have seen her. She must have been in your own\ncircle; for as you went with Lady Dalrymple, you were in the seats of\ngrandeur, round the orchestra, of course. No, that was what I dreaded. It would have been very unpleasant to me\nin every respect. But happily Lady Dalrymple always chooses to be\nfarther off; and we were exceedingly well placed, that is, for hearing;\nI must not say for seeing, because I appear to have seen very little. Oh! you saw enough for your own amusement. I can understand. There\nis a sort of domestic enjoyment to be known even in a crowd, and this\nyou had. You were a large party in yourselves, and you wanted nothing\nbeyond. But I ought to have looked about me more, said Anne, conscious while she spoke that there had in fact been no want of looking about, that the object only had been deficient. No, no; you were better employed. You need not tell me that you had a\npleasant evening. I see it in your eye. I perfectly see how the hours\npassed: that you had always something agreeable to listen to. In the\nintervals of the concert it was conversation. Anne half smiled and said, Do you see that in my eye? Yes, I do. Your countenance perfectly informs me that you were in\ncompany last night with the person whom you think the most agreeable in\nthe world, the person who interests you at this present time more than\nall the rest of the world put together. A blush overspread Anne's cheeks. She could say nothing. And such being the case, continued Mrs Smith, after a short pause, I\nhope you believe that I do know how to value your kindness in coming to\nme this morning. It is really very good of you to come and sit with\nme, when you must have so many pleasanter demands upon your time. Anne heard nothing of this. She was still in the astonishment and confusion excited by her friend's penetration, unable to imagine how any report of Captain Wentworth could have reached her. After another short silence-- Pray, said Mrs Smith, is Mr Elliot aware of your acquaintance with\nme? Does he know that I am in Bath? Mr Elliot! repeated Anne, looking up surprised. A moment's reflection shewed her the mistake she had been under. She caught it instantaneously; and recovering her courage with the feeling of safety, soon added, more composedly, Are you acquainted with Mr Elliot? I have been a good deal acquainted with him, replied Mrs Smith, gravely, but it seems worn out now. It is a great while since we met. I was not at all aware of this. You never mentioned it before. Had I\nknown it, I would have had the pleasure of talking to him about you. To confess the truth, said Mrs Smith, assuming her usual air of cheerfulness, that is exactly the pleasure I want you to have. I want\nyou to talk about me to Mr Elliot. I want your interest with him. He\ncan be of essential service to me; and if you would have the goodness,\nmy dear Miss Elliot, to make it an object to yourself, of course it is\ndone. I should be extremely happy; I hope you cannot doubt my willingness to\nbe of even the slightest use to you, replied Anne; but I suspect that\nyou are considering me as having a higher claim on Mr Elliot, a greater\nright to influence him, than is really the case. I am sure you have,\nsomehow or other, imbibed such a notion. You must consider me only as\nMr Elliot's relation. If in that light there is anything which you\nsuppose his cousin might fairly ask of him, I beg you would not\nhesitate to employ me. Mrs Smith gave her a penetrating glance, and then, smiling, said-- I have been a little premature, I perceive; I beg your pardon. I\nought to have waited for official information, But now, my dear Miss\nElliot, as an old friend, do give me a hint as to when I may speak.\nNext week? To be sure by next week I may be allowed to think it all\nsettled, and build my own selfish schemes on Mr Elliot's good fortune. No, replied Anne, nor next week, nor next, nor next. I assure you\nthat nothing of the sort you are thinking of will be settled any week.\nI am not going to marry Mr Elliot. I should like to know why you\nimagine I am? Mrs Smith looked at her again, looked earnestly, smiled, shook her head, and exclaimed-- Now, how I do wish I understood you! How I do wish I knew what you\nwere at! I have a great idea that you do not design to be cruel, when\nthe right moment occurs. Till it does come, you know, we women never\nmean to have anybody. It is a thing of course among us, that every man\nis refused, till he offers. But why should you be cruel? Let me plead\nfor my--present friend I cannot call him, but for my former friend.\nWhere can you look for a more suitable match? Where could you expect a\nmore gentlemanlike, agreeable man? Let me recommend Mr Elliot. I am\nsure you hear nothing but good of him from Colonel Wallis; and who can\nknow him better than Colonel Wallis? My dear Mrs Smith, Mr Elliot's wife has not been dead much above half\na year. He ought not to be supposed to be paying his addresses to any\none. Oh! if these are your only objections, cried Mrs Smith, archly, Mr\nElliot is safe, and I shall give myself no more trouble about him. Do\nnot forget me when you are married, that's all. Let him know me to be\na friend of yours, and then he will think little of the trouble\nrequired, which it is very natural for him now, with so many affairs\nand engagements of his own, to avoid and get rid of as he can; very\nnatural, perhaps. Ninety-nine out of a hundred would do the same. Of\ncourse, he cannot be aware of the importance to me. Well, my dear Miss\nElliot, I hope and trust you will be very happy. Mr Elliot has sense\nto understand the value of such a woman. Your peace will not be\nshipwrecked as mine has been. You are safe in all worldly matters, and\nsafe in his character. He will not be led astray; he will not be\nmisled by others to his ruin. No, said Anne, I can readily believe all that of my cousin. He\nseems to have a calm decided temper, not at all open to dangerous\nimpressions. I consider him with great respect. I have no reason,\nfrom any thing that has fallen within my observation, to do otherwise.\nBut I have not known him long; and he is not a man, I think, to be\nknown intimately soon. Will not this manner of speaking of him, Mrs\nSmith, convince you that he is nothing to me? Surely this must be calm\nenough. And, upon my word, he is nothing to me. Should he ever\npropose to me (which I have very little reason to imagine he has any\nthought of doing), I shall not accept him. I assure you I shall not.\nI assure you, Mr Elliot had not the share which you have been\nsupposing, in whatever pleasure the concert of last night might afford:\nnot Mr Elliot; it is not Mr Elliot that-- She stopped, regretting with a deep blush that she had implied so much; but less would hardly have been sufficient. Mrs Smith would hardly have believed so soon in Mr Elliot's failure, but from the perception of there being a somebody else. As it was, she instantly submitted, and with all the semblance of seeing nothing beyond; and Anne, eager to escape farther notice, was impatient to know why Mrs Smith should have fancied she was to marry Mr Elliot; where she could have received the idea, or from whom she could have heard it. Do tell me how it first came into your head. It first came into my head, replied Mrs Smith, upon finding how much\nyou were together, and feeling it to be the most probable thing in the\nworld to be wished for by everybody belonging to either of you; and you\nmay depend upon it that all your acquaintance have disposed of you in\nthe same way. But I never heard it spoken of till two days ago. And has it indeed been spoken of? Did you observe the woman who opened the door to you when you called\nyesterday? No. Was not it Mrs Speed, as usual, or the maid? I observed no one\nin particular. It was my friend Mrs Rooke; Nurse Rooke; who, by-the-bye, had a great\ncuriosity to see you, and was delighted to be in the way to let you in.\nShe came away from Marlborough Buildings only on Sunday; and she it was\nwho told me you were to marry Mr Elliot. She had had it from Mrs\nWallis herself, which did not seem bad authority. She sat an hour with\nme on Monday evening, and gave me the whole history. The whole\nhistory, repeated Anne, laughing. She could not make a very long\nhistory, I think, of one such little article of unfounded news. Mrs Smith said nothing. But, continued Anne, presently, though there is no truth in my\nhaving this claim on Mr Elliot, I should be extremely happy to be of\nuse to you in any way that I could. Shall I mention to him your being\nin Bath? Shall I take any message? No, I thank you: no, certainly not. In the warmth of the moment, and\nunder a mistaken impression, I might, perhaps, have endeavoured to\ninterest you in some circumstances; but not now. No, I thank you, I\nhave nothing to trouble you with. I think you spoke of having known Mr Elliot many years? I did. Not before he was married, I suppose? Yes; he was not married when I knew him first. And--were you much acquainted? Intimately. Indeed! Then do tell me what he was at that time of life. I have a\ngreat curiosity to know what Mr Elliot was as a very young man. Was he\nat all such as he appears now? I have not seen Mr Elliot these three years, was Mrs Smith's answer, given so gravely that it was impossible to pursue the subject farther; and Anne felt that she had gained nothing but an increase of curiosity. They were both silent: Mrs Smith very thoughtful. At last-- I beg your pardon, my dear Miss Elliot, she cried, in her natural tone of cordiality, I beg your pardon for the short answers I have\nbeen giving you, but I have been uncertain what I ought to do. I have\nbeen doubting and considering as to what I ought to tell you. There\nwere many things to be taken into the account. One hates to be\nofficious, to be giving bad impressions, making mischief. Even the\nsmooth surface of family-union seems worth preserving, though there may\nbe nothing durable beneath. However, I have determined; I think I am\nright; I think you ought to be made acquainted with Mr Elliot's real\ncharacter. Though I fully believe that, at present, you have not the\nsmallest intention of accepting him, there is no saying what may\nhappen. You might, some time or other, be differently affected towards\nhim. Hear the truth, therefore, now, while you are unprejudiced. Mr\nElliot is a man without heart or conscience; a designing, wary,\ncold-blooded being, who thinks only of himself; whom for his own\ninterest or ease, would be guilty of any cruelty, or any treachery,\nthat could be perpetrated without risk of his general character. He\nhas no feeling for others. Those whom he has been the chief cause of\nleading into ruin, he can neglect and desert without the smallest\ncompunction. He is totally beyond the reach of any sentiment of\njustice or compassion. Oh! he is black at heart, hollow and black! Anne's astonished air, and exclamation of wonder, made her pause, and in a calmer manner, she added, My expressions startle you. You must allow for an injured, angry\nwoman. But I will try to command myself. I will not abuse him. I\nwill only tell you what I have found him. Facts shall speak. He was\nthe intimate friend of my dear husband, who trusted and loved him, and\nthought him as good as himself. The intimacy had been formed before\nour marriage. I found them most intimate friends; and I, too, became\nexcessively pleased with Mr Elliot, and entertained the highest opinion\nof him. At nineteen, you know, one does not think very seriously; but\nMr Elliot appeared to me quite as good as others, and much more\nagreeable than most others, and we were almost always together. We\nwere principally in town, living in very good style. He was then the\ninferior in circumstances; he was then the poor one; he had chambers in\nthe Temple, and it was as much as he could do to support the appearance\nof a gentleman. He had always a home with us whenever he chose it; he\nwas always welcome; he was like a brother. My poor Charles, who had\nthe finest, most generous spirit in the world, would have divided his\nlast farthing with him; and I know that his purse was open to him; I\nknow that he often assisted him. This must have been about that very period of Mr Elliot's life, said Anne, which has always excited my particular curiosity. It must have\nbeen about the same time that he became known to my father and sister.\nI never knew him myself; I only heard of him; but there was a something\nin his conduct then, with regard to my father and sister, and\nafterwards in the circumstances of his marriage, which I never could\nquite reconcile with present times. It seemed to announce a different\nsort of man. I know it all, I know it all, cried Mrs Smith. He had been\nintroduced to Sir Walter and your sister before I was acquainted with\nhim, but I heard him speak of them for ever. I know he was invited and\nencouraged, and I know he did not choose to go. I can satisfy you,\nperhaps, on points which you would little expect; and as to his\nmarriage, I knew all about it at the time. I was privy to all the fors\nand againsts; I was the friend to whom he confided his hopes and plans;\nand though I did not know his wife previously, her inferior situation\nin society, indeed, rendered that impossible, yet I knew her all her\nlife afterwards, or at least till within the last two years of her\nlife, and can answer any question you may wish to put. Nay, said Anne, I have no particular enquiry to make about her. I\nhave always understood they were not a happy couple. But I should like\nto know why, at that time of his life, he should slight my father's\nacquaintance as he did. My father was certainly disposed to take very\nkind and proper notice of him. Why did Mr Elliot draw back? Mr Elliot, replied Mrs Smith, at that period of his life, had one\nobject in view: to make his fortune, and by a rather quicker process\nthan the law. He was determined to make it by marriage. He was\ndetermined, at least, not to mar it by an imprudent marriage; and I\nknow it was his belief (whether justly or not, of course I cannot\ndecide), that your father and sister, in their civilities and\ninvitations, were designing a match between the heir and the young\nlady, and it was impossible that such a match should have answered his\nideas of wealth and independence. That was his motive for drawing\nback, I can assure you. He told me the whole story. He had no\nconcealments with me. It was curious, that having just left you behind\nme in Bath, my first and principal acquaintance on marrying should be\nyour cousin; and that, through him, I should be continually hearing of\nyour father and sister. He described one Miss Elliot, and I thought\nvery affectionately of the other. Perhaps, cried Anne, struck by a sudden idea, you sometimes spoke of\nme to Mr Elliot? To be sure I did; very often. I used to boast of my own Anne Elliot,\nand vouch for your being a very different creature from-- She checked herself just in time. This accounts for something which Mr Elliot said last night, cried Anne. This explains it. I found he had been used to hear of me. I\ncould not comprehend how. What wild imaginations one forms where dear\nself is concerned! How sure to be mistaken! But I beg your pardon; I\nhave interrupted you. Mr Elliot married then completely for money?\nThe circumstances, probably, which first opened your eyes to his\ncharacter. Mrs Smith hesitated a little here. Oh! those things are too common.\nWhen one lives in the world, a man or woman's marrying for money is too\ncommon to strike one as it ought. I was very young, and associated\nonly with the young, and we were a thoughtless, gay set, without any\nstrict rules of conduct. We lived for enjoyment. I think differently\nnow; time and sickness and sorrow have given me other notions; but at\nthat period I must own I saw nothing reprehensible in what Mr Elliot\nwas doing. 'To do the best for himself,' passed as a duty. But was not she a very low woman? Yes; which I objected to, but he would not regard. Money, money, was\nall that he wanted. Her father was a grazier, her grandfather had been\na butcher, but that was all nothing. She was a fine woman, had had a\ndecent education, was brought forward by some cousins, thrown by chance\ninto Mr Elliot's company, and fell in love with him; and not a\ndifficulty or a scruple was there on his side, with respect to her\nbirth. All his caution was spent in being secured of the real amount\nof her fortune, before he committed himself. Depend upon it, whatever\nesteem Mr Elliot may have for his own situation in life now, as a young\nman he had not the smallest value for it. His chance for the Kellynch\nestate was something, but all the honour of the family he held as cheap\nas dirt. I have often heard him declare, that if baronetcies were\nsaleable, anybody should have his for fifty pounds, arms and motto,\nname and livery included; but I will not pretend to repeat half that I\nused to hear him say on that subject. It would not be fair; and yet\nyou ought to have proof, for what is all this but assertion, and you\nshall have proof. Indeed, my dear Mrs Smith, I want none, cried Anne. You have\nasserted nothing contradictory to what Mr Elliot appeared to be some\nyears ago. This is all in confirmation, rather, of what we used to\nhear and believe. I am more curious to know why he should be so\ndifferent now. But for my satisfaction, if you will have the goodness to ring for\nMary; stay: I am sure you will have the still greater goodness of\ngoing yourself into my bedroom, and bringing me the small inlaid box\nwhich you will find on the upper shelf of the closet. Anne, seeing her friend to be earnestly bent on it, did as she was desired. The box was brought and placed before her, and Mrs Smith, sighing over it as she unlocked it, said-- This is full of papers belonging to him, to my husband; a small\nportion only of what I had to look over when I lost him. The letter I\nam looking for was one written by Mr Elliot to him before our marriage,\nand happened to be saved; why, one can hardly imagine. But he was\ncareless and immethodical, like other men, about those things; and when\nI came to examine his papers, I found it with others still more\ntrivial, from different people scattered here and there, while many\nletters and memorandums of real importance had been destroyed. Here it\nis; I would not burn it, because being even then very little satisfied\nwith Mr Elliot, I was determined to preserve every document of former\nintimacy. I have now another motive for being glad that I can produce\nit. This was the letter, directed to Charles Smith, Esq. Tunbridge Wells, and dated from London, as far back as July, 1803:-- Dear Smith,--I have received yours. Your kindness almost overpowers\nme. I wish nature had made such hearts as yours more common, but I\nhave lived three-and-twenty years in the world, and have seen none like\nit. At present, believe me, I have no need of your services, being in\ncash again. Give me joy: I have got rid of Sir Walter and Miss. They\nare gone back to Kellynch, and almost made me swear to visit them this\nsummer; but my first visit to Kellynch will be with a surveyor, to tell\nme how to bring it with best advantage to the hammer. The baronet,\nnevertheless, is not unlikely to marry again; he is quite fool enough.\nIf he does, however, they will leave me in peace, which may be a decent\nequivalent for the reversion. He is worse than last year.\n\n I wish I had any name but Elliot. I am sick of it. The name of Walter I can drop, thank God! and I desire you will never insult me with my second W. again, meaning, for the rest of my life, to be only yours truly,--Wm. Elliot.\" Such a letter could not be read without putting Anne in a glow; and Mrs Smith, observing the high colour in her face, said-- The language, I know, is highly disrespectful. Though I have forgot\nthe exact terms, I have a perfect impression of the general meaning.\nBut it shows you the man. Mark his professions to my poor husband.\nCan any thing be stronger? Anne could not immediately get over the shock and mortification of finding such words applied to her father. She was obliged to recollect that her seeing the letter was a violation of the laws of honour, that no one ought to be judged or to be known by such testimonies, that no private correspondence could bear the eye of others, before she could recover calmness enough to return the letter which she had been meditating over, and say-- Thank you. This is full proof undoubtedly; proof of every thing you\nwere saying. But why be acquainted with us now? I can explain this too, cried Mrs Smith, smiling. Can you really? Yes. I have shewn you Mr Elliot as he was a dozen years ago, and I\nwill shew him as he is now. I cannot produce written proof again, but\nI can give as authentic oral testimony as you can desire, of what he is\nnow wanting, and what he is now doing. He is no hypocrite now. He\ntruly wants to marry you. His present attentions to your family are\nvery sincere: quite from the heart. I will give you my authority: his\nfriend Colonel Wallis. Colonel Wallis! you are acquainted with him? No. It does not come to me in quite so direct a line as that; it\ntakes a bend or two, but nothing of consequence. The stream is as good\nas at first; the little rubbish it collects in the turnings is easily\nmoved away. Mr Elliot talks unreservedly to Colonel Wallis of his\nviews on you, which said Colonel Wallis, I imagine to be, in himself, a\nsensible, careful, discerning sort of character; but Colonel Wallis has\na very pretty silly wife, to whom he tells things which he had better\nnot, and he repeats it all to her. She in the overflowing spirits of\nher recovery, repeats it all to her nurse; and the nurse knowing my\nacquaintance with you, very naturally brings it all to me. On Monday\nevening, my good friend Mrs Rooke let me thus much into the secrets of\nMarlborough Buildings. When I talked of a whole history, therefore,\nyou see I was not romancing so much as you supposed. My dear Mrs Smith, your authority is deficient. This will not do. Mr\nElliot's having any views on me will not in the least account for the\nefforts he made towards a reconciliation with my father. That was all\nprior to my coming to Bath. I found them on the most friendly terms\nwhen I arrived. I know you did; I know it all perfectly, but-- Indeed, Mrs Smith, we must not expect to get real information in such\na line. Facts or opinions which are to pass through the hands of so\nmany, to be misconceived by folly in one, and ignorance in another, can\nhardly have much truth left. Only give me a hearing. You will soon be able to judge of the general\ncredit due, by listening to some particulars which you can yourself\nimmediately contradict or confirm. Nobody supposes that you were his\nfirst inducement. He had seen you indeed, before he came to Bath, and\nadmired you, but without knowing it to be you. So says my historian,\nat least. Is this true? Did he see you last summer or autumn,\n'somewhere down in the west,' to use her own words, without knowing it\nto be you? He certainly did. So far it is very true. At Lyme. I happened to be\nat Lyme. Well, continued Mrs Smith, triumphantly, grant my friend the credit\ndue to the establishment of the first point asserted. He saw you then\nat Lyme, and liked you so well as to be exceedingly pleased to meet\nwith you again in Camden Place, as Miss Anne Elliot, and from that\nmoment, I have no doubt, had a double motive in his visits there. But\nthere was another, and an earlier, which I will now explain. If there\nis anything in my story which you know to be either false or\nimprobable, stop me. My account states, that your sister's friend, the\nlady now staying with you, whom I have heard you mention, came to Bath\nwith Miss Elliot and Sir Walter as long ago as September (in short when\nthey first came themselves), and has been staying there ever since;\nthat she is a clever, insinuating, handsome woman, poor and plausible,\nand altogether such in situation and manner, as to give a general idea,\namong Sir Walter's acquaintance, of her meaning to be Lady Elliot, and\nas general a surprise that Miss Elliot should be apparently, blind to\nthe danger. Here Mrs Smith paused a moment; but Anne had not a word to say, and she continued-- This was the light in which it appeared to those who knew the family,\nlong before you returned to it; and Colonel Wallis had his eye upon\nyour father enough to be sensible of it, though he did not then visit\nin Camden Place; but his regard for Mr Elliot gave him an interest in\nwatching all that was going on there, and when Mr Elliot came to Bath\nfor a day or two, as he happened to do a little before Christmas,\nColonel Wallis made him acquainted with the appearance of things, and\nthe reports beginning to prevail. Now you are to understand, that time\nhad worked a very material change in Mr Elliot's opinions as to the\nvalue of a baronetcy. Upon all points of blood and connexion he is a\ncompletely altered man. Having long had as much money as he could\nspend, nothing to wish for on the side of avarice or indulgence, he has\nbeen gradually learning to pin his happiness upon the consequence he is\nheir to. I thought it coming on before our acquaintance ceased, but it\nis now a confirmed feeling. He cannot bear the idea of not being Sir\nWilliam. You may guess, therefore, that the news he heard from his\nfriend could not be very agreeable, and you may guess what it produced;\nthe resolution of coming back to Bath as soon as possible, and of\nfixing himself here for a time, with the view of renewing his former\nacquaintance, and recovering such a footing in the family as might give\nhim the means of ascertaining the degree of his danger, and of\ncircumventing the lady if he found it material. This was agreed upon\nbetween the two friends as the only thing to be done; and Colonel\nWallis was to assist in every way that he could. He was to be\nintroduced, and Mrs Wallis was to be introduced, and everybody was to\nbe introduced. Mr Elliot came back accordingly; and on application was\nforgiven, as you know, and re-admitted into the family; and there it\nwas his constant object, and his only object (till your arrival added\nanother motive), to watch Sir Walter and Mrs Clay. He omitted no\nopportunity of being with them, threw himself in their way, called at\nall hours; but I need not be particular on this subject. You can\nimagine what an artful man would do; and with this guide, perhaps, may\nrecollect what you have seen him do. Yes, said Anne, you tell me nothing which does not accord with what\nI have known, or could imagine. There is always something offensive in\nthe details of cunning. The manoeuvres of selfishness and duplicity\nmust ever be revolting, but I have heard nothing which really surprises\nme. I know those who would be shocked by such a representation of Mr\nElliot, who would have difficulty in believing it; but I have never\nbeen satisfied. I have always wanted some other motive for his conduct\nthan appeared. I should like to know his present opinion, as to the\nprobability of the event he has been in dread of; whether he considers\nthe danger to be lessening or not. Lessening, I understand, replied Mrs Smith. He thinks Mrs Clay\nafraid of him, aware that he sees through her, and not daring to\nproceed as she might do in his absence. But since he must be absent\nsome time or other, I do not perceive how he can ever be secure while\nshe holds her present influence. Mrs Wallis has an amusing idea, as\nnurse tells me, that it is to be put into the marriage articles when\nyou and Mr Elliot marry, that your father is not to marry Mrs Clay. A\nscheme, worthy of Mrs Wallis's understanding, by all accounts; but my\nsensible nurse Rooke sees the absurdity of it. 'Why, to be sure,\nma'am,' said she, 'it would not prevent his marrying anybody else.'\nAnd, indeed, to own the truth, I do not think nurse, in her heart, is a\nvery strenuous opposer of Sir Walter's making a second match. She must\nbe allowed to be a favourer of matrimony, you know; and (since self\nwill intrude) who can say that she may not have some flying visions of\nattending the next Lady Elliot, through Mrs Wallis's recommendation? I am very glad to know all this, said Anne, after a little thoughtfulness. It will be more painful to me in some respects to be\nin company with him, but I shall know better what to do. My line of\nconduct will be more direct. Mr Elliot is evidently a disingenuous,\nartificial, worldly man, who has never had any better principle to\nguide him than selfishness. But Mr Elliot was not done with. Mrs Smith had been carried away from her first direction, and Anne had forgotten, in the interest of her own family concerns, how much had been originally implied against him; but her attention was now called to the explanation of those first hints, and she listened to a recital which, if it did not perfectly justify the unqualified bitterness of Mrs Smith, proved him to have been very unfeeling in his conduct towards her; very deficient both in justice and compassion. She learned that (the intimacy between them continuing unimpaired by Mr Elliot's marriage) they had been as before always together, and Mr Elliot had led his friend into expenses much beyond his fortune. Mrs Smith did not want to take blame to herself, and was most tender of throwing any on her husband; but Anne could collect that their income had never been equal to their style of living, and that from the first there had been a great deal of general and joint extravagance. From his wife's account of him she could discern Mr Smith to have been a man of warm feelings, easy temper, careless habits, and not strong understanding, much more amiable than his friend, and very unlike him, led by him, and probably despised by him. Mr Elliot, raised by his marriage to great affluence, and disposed to every gratification of pleasure and vanity which could be commanded without involving himself, (for with all his self-indulgence he had become a prudent man), and beginning to be rich, just as his friend ought to have found himself to be poor, seemed to have had no concern at all for that friend's probable finances, but, on the contrary, had been prompting and encouraging expenses which could end only in ruin; and the Smiths accordingly had been ruined. The husband had died just in time to be spared the full knowledge of it. They had previously known embarrassments enough to try the friendship of their friends, and to prove that Mr Elliot's had better not be tried; but it was not till his death that the wretched state of his affairs was fully known. With a confidence in Mr Elliot's regard, more creditable to his feelings than his judgement, Mr Smith had appointed him the executor of his will; but Mr Elliot would not act, and the difficulties and distress which this refusal had heaped on her, in addition to the inevitable sufferings of her situation, had been such as could not be related without anguish of spirit, or listened to without corresponding indignation. Anne was shewn some letters of his on the occasion, answers to urgent applications from Mrs Smith, which all breathed the same stern resolution of not engaging in a fruitless trouble, and, under a cold civility, the same hard-hearted indifference to any of the evils it might bring on her. It was a dreadful picture of ingratitude and inhumanity; and Anne felt, at some moments, that no flagrant open crime could have been worse. She had a great deal to listen to; all the particulars of past sad scenes, all the minutiae of distress upon distress, which in former conversations had been merely hinted at, were dwelt on now with a natural indulgence. Anne could perfectly comprehend the exquisite relief, and was only the more inclined to wonder at the composure of her friend's usual state of mind. There was one circumstance in the history of her grievances of particular irritation. She had good reason to believe that some property of her husband in the West Indies, which had been for many years under a sort of sequestration for the payment of its own incumbrances, might be recoverable by proper measures; and this property, though not large, would be enough to make her comparatively rich. But there was nobody to stir in it. Mr Elliot would do nothing, and she could do nothing herself, equally disabled from personal exertion by her state of bodily weakness, and from employing others by her want of money. She had no natural connexions to assist her even with their counsel, and she could not afford to purchase the assistance of the law. This was a cruel aggravation of actually straitened means. To feel that she ought to be in better circumstances, that a little trouble in the right place might do it, and to fear that delay might be even weakening her claims, was hard to bear. It was on this point that she had hoped to engage Anne's good offices with Mr Elliot. She had previously, in the anticipation of their marriage, been very apprehensive of losing her friend by it; but on being assured that he could have made no attempt of that nature, since he did not even know her to be in Bath, it immediately occurred, that something might be done in her favour by the influence of the woman he loved, and she had been hastily preparing to interest Anne's feelings, as far as the observances due to Mr Elliot's character would allow, when Anne's refutation of the supposed engagement changed the face of everything; and while it took from her the new-formed hope of succeeding in the object of her first anxiety, left her at least the comfort of telling the whole story her own way. After listening to this full description of Mr Elliot, Anne could not but express some surprise at Mrs Smith's having spoken of him so favourably in the beginning of their conversation. She had seemed to\nrecommend and praise him! My dear, was Mrs Smith's reply, there was nothing else to be done.\nI considered your marrying him as certain, though he might not yet have\nmade the offer, and I could no more speak the truth of him, than if he\nhad been your husband. My heart bled for you, as I talked of\nhappiness; and yet he is sensible, he is agreeable, and with such a\nwoman as you, it was not absolutely hopeless. He was very unkind to\nhis first wife. They were wretched together. But she was too ignorant\nand giddy for respect, and he had never loved her. I was willing to\nhope that you must fare better. Anne could just acknowledge within herself such a possibility of having been induced to marry him, as made her shudder at the idea of the misery which must have followed. It was just possible that she might have been persuaded by Lady Russell! And under such a supposition, which would have been most miserable, when time had disclosed all, too late? It was very desirable that Lady Russell should be no longer deceived; and one of the concluding arrangements of this important conference, which carried them through the greater part of the morning, was, that Anne had full liberty to communicate to her friend everything relative to Mrs Smith, in which his conduct was involved. Chapter 22 Anne went home to think over all that she had heard. In one point, her feelings were relieved by this knowledge of Mr Elliot. There was no longer anything of tenderness due to him. He stood as opposed to Captain Wentworth, in all his own unwelcome obtrusiveness; and the evil of his attentions last night, the irremediable mischief he might have done, was considered with sensations unqualified, unperplexed. Pity for him was all over. But this was the only point of relief. In every other respect, in looking around her, or penetrating forward, she saw more to distrust and to apprehend. She was concerned for the disappointment and pain Lady Russell would be feeling; for the mortifications which must be hanging over her father and sister, and had all the distress of foreseeing many evils, without knowing how to avert any one of them. She was most thankful for her own knowledge of him. She had never considered herself as entitled to reward for not slighting an old friend like Mrs Smith, but here was a reward indeed springing from it! Mrs Smith had been able to tell her what no one else could have done. Could the knowledge have been extended through her family? But this was a vain idea. She must talk to Lady Russell, tell her, consult with her, and having done her best, wait the event with as much composure as possible; and after all, her greatest want of composure would be in that quarter of the mind which could not be opened to Lady Russell; in that flow of anxieties and fears which must be all to herself. She found, on reaching home, that she had, as she intended, escaped seeing Mr Elliot; that he had called and paid them a long morning visit; but hardly had she congratulated herself, and felt safe, when she heard that he was coming again in the evening. I had not the smallest intention of asking him, said Elizabeth, with affected carelessness, but he gave so many hints; so Mrs Clay says, at\nleast. Indeed, I do say it. I never saw anybody in my life spell harder for\nan invitation. Poor man! I was really in pain for him; for your\nhard-hearted sister, Miss Anne, seems bent on cruelty. Oh! cried Elizabeth, I have been rather too much used to the game to\nbe soon overcome by a gentleman's hints. However, when I found how\nexcessively he was regretting that he should miss my father this\nmorning, I gave way immediately, for I would never really omit an\nopportunity of bring him and Sir Walter together. They appear to so\nmuch advantage in company with each other. Each behaving so\npleasantly. Mr Elliot looking up with so much respect. Quite delightful! cried Mrs Clay, not daring, however, to turn her eyes towards Anne. Exactly like father and son! Dear Miss Elliot,\nmay I not say father and son? Oh! I lay no embargo on any body's words. If you will have such\nideas! But, upon my word, I am scarcely sensible of his attentions\nbeing beyond those of other men. My dear Miss Elliot! exclaimed Mrs Clay, lifting her hands and eyes, and sinking all the rest of her astonishment in a convenient silence. Well, my dear Penelope, you need not be so alarmed about him. I did\ninvite him, you know. I sent him away with smiles. When I found he\nwas really going to his friends at Thornberry Park for the whole day\nto-morrow, I had compassion on him. Anne admired the good acting of the friend, in being able to shew such pleasure as she did, in the expectation and in the actual arrival of the very person whose presence must really be interfering with her prime object. It was impossible but that Mrs Clay must hate the sight of Mr Elliot; and yet she could assume a most obliging, placid look, and appear quite satisfied with the curtailed license of devoting herself only half as much to Sir Walter as she would have done otherwise. To Anne herself it was most distressing to see Mr Elliot enter the room; and quite painful to have him approach and speak to her. She had been used before to feel that he could not be always quite sincere, but now she saw insincerity in everything. His attentive deference to her father, contrasted with his former language, was odious; and when she thought of his cruel conduct towards Mrs Smith, she could hardly bear the sight of his present smiles and mildness, or the sound of his artificial good sentiments. She meant to avoid any such alteration of manners as might provoke a remonstrance on his side. It was a great object to her to escape all enquiry or eclat; but it was her intention to be as decidedly cool to him as might be compatible with their relationship; and to retrace, as quietly as she could, the few steps of unnecessary intimacy she had been gradually led along. She was accordingly more guarded, and more cool, than she had been the night before. He wanted to animate her curiosity again as to how and where he could have heard her formerly praised; wanted very much to be gratified by more solicitation; but the charm was broken: he found that the heat and animation of a public room was necessary to kindle his modest cousin's vanity; he found, at least, that it was not to be done now, by any of those attempts which he could hazard among the too-commanding claims of the others. He little surmised that it was a subject acting now exactly against his interest, bringing immediately to her thoughts all those parts of his conduct which were least excusable. She had some satisfaction in finding that he was really going out of Bath the next morning, going early, and that he would be gone the greater part of two days. He was invited again to Camden Place the very evening of his return; but from Thursday to Saturday evening his absence was certain. It was bad enough that a Mrs Clay should be always before her; but that a deeper hypocrite should be added to their party, seemed the destruction of everything like peace and comfort. It was so humiliating to reflect on the constant deception practised on her father and Elizabeth; to consider the various sources of mortification preparing for them! Mrs Clay's selfishness was not so complicate nor so revolting as his; and Anne would have compounded for the marriage at once, with all its evils, to be clear of Mr Elliot's subtleties in endeavouring to prevent it. On Friday morning she meant to go very early to Lady Russell, and accomplish the necessary communication; and she would have gone directly after breakfast, but that Mrs Clay was also going out on some obliging purpose of saving her sister trouble, which determined her to wait till she might be safe from such a companion. She saw Mrs Clay fairly off, therefore, before she began to talk of spending the morning in Rivers Street. Very well, said Elizabeth, I have nothing to send but my love. Oh!\nyou may as well take back that tiresome book she would lend me, and\npretend I have read it through. I really cannot be plaguing myself for\never with all the new poems and states of the nation that come out.\nLady Russell quite bores one with her new publications. You need not\ntell her so, but I thought her dress hideous the other night. I used\nto think she had some taste in dress, but I was ashamed of her at the\nconcert. Something so formal and arrange in her air! and she sits so\nupright! My best love, of course. And mine, added Sir Walter. Kindest regards. And you may say, that\nI mean to call upon her soon. Make a civil message; but I shall only\nleave my card. Morning visits are never fair by women at her time of\nlife, who make themselves up so little. If she would only wear rouge\nshe would not be afraid of being seen; but last time I called, I\nobserved the blinds were let down immediately. While her father spoke, there was a knock at the door. Who could it be? Anne, remembering the preconcerted visits, at all hours, of Mr Elliot, would have expected him, but for his known engagement seven miles off. After the usual period of suspense, the usual sounds of approach were heard, and Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove were ushered into the room. Surprise was the strongest emotion raised by their appearance; but Anne was really glad to see them; and the others were not so sorry but that they could put on a decent air of welcome; and as soon as it became clear that these, their nearest relations, were not arrived with any views of accommodation in that house, Sir Walter and Elizabeth were able to rise in cordiality, and do the honours of it very well. They were come to Bath for a few days with Mrs Musgrove, and were at the White Hart. So much was pretty soon understood; but till Sir Walter and Elizabeth were walking Mary into the other drawing-room, and regaling themselves with her admiration, Anne could not draw upon Charles's brain for a regular history of their coming, or an explanation of some smiling hints of particular business, which had been ostentatiously dropped by Mary, as well as of some apparent confusion as to whom their party consisted of. She then found that it consisted of Mrs Musgrove, Henrietta, and Captain Harville, beside their two selves. He gave her a very plain, intelligible account of the whole; a narration in which she saw a great deal of most characteristic proceeding. The scheme had received its first impulse by Captain Harville's wanting to come to Bath on business. He had begun to talk of it a week ago; and by way of doing something, as shooting was over, Charles had proposed coming with him, and Mrs Harville had seemed to like the idea of it very much, as an advantage to her husband; but Mary could not bear to be left, and had made herself so unhappy about it, that for a day or two everything seemed to be in suspense, or at an end. But then, it had been taken up by his father and mother. His mother had some old friends in Bath whom she wanted to see; it was thought a good opportunity for Henrietta to come and buy wedding-clothes for herself and her sister; and, in short, it ended in being his mother's party, that everything might be comfortable and easy to Captain Harville; and he and Mary were included in it by way of general convenience. They had arrived late the night before. Mrs Harville, her children, and Captain Benwick, remained with Mr Musgrove and Louisa at Uppercross. Anne's only surprise was, that affairs should be in forwardness enough for Henrietta's wedding-clothes to be talked of. She had imagined such difficulties of fortune to exist there as must prevent the marriage from being near at hand; but she learned from Charles that, very recently, (since Mary's last letter to herself), Charles Hayter had been applied to by a friend to hold a living for a youth who could not possibly claim it under many years; and that on the strength of his present income, with almost a certainty of something more permanent long before the term in question, the two families had consented to the young people's wishes, and that their marriage was likely to take place in a few months, quite as soon as Louisa's. And a very good living it\nwas, Charles added: only five-and-twenty miles from Uppercross, and\nin a very fine country: fine part of Dorsetshire. In the centre of\nsome of the best preserves in the kingdom, surrounded by three great\nproprietors, each more careful and jealous than the other; and to two\nof the three at least, Charles Hayter might get a special\nrecommendation. Not that he will value it as he ought, he observed, Charles is too cool about sporting. That's the worst of him. I am extremely glad, indeed, cried Anne, particularly glad that this\nshould happen; and that of two sisters, who both deserve equally well,\nand who have always been such good friends, the pleasant prospect of\none should not be dimming those of the other--that they should be so\nequal in their prosperity and comfort. I hope your father and mother\nare quite happy with regard to both. Oh! yes. My father would be well pleased if the gentlemen were\nricher, but he has no other fault to find. Money, you know, coming\ndown with money--two daughters at once--it cannot be a very agreeable\noperation, and it streightens him as to many things. However, I do not\nmean to say they have not a right to it. It is very fit they should\nhave daughters' shares; and I am sure he has always been a very kind,\nliberal father to me. Mary does not above half like Henrietta's match.\nShe never did, you know. But she does not do him justice, nor think\nenough about Winthrop. I cannot make her attend to the value of the\nproperty. It is a very fair match, as times go; and I have liked\nCharles Hayter all my life, and I shall not leave off now. Such excellent parents as Mr and Mrs Musgrove, exclaimed Anne, should be happy in their children's marriages. They do everything to\nconfer happiness, I am sure. What a blessing to young people to be in\nsuch hands! Your father and mother seem so totally free from all those\nambitious feelings which have led to so much misconduct and misery,\nboth in young and old. I hope you think Louisa perfectly recovered\nnow? He answered rather hesitatingly, Yes, I believe I do; very much\nrecovered; but she is altered; there is no running or jumping about, no\nlaughing or dancing; it is quite different. If one happens only to\nshut the door a little hard, she starts and wriggles like a young\ndab-chick in the water; and Benwick sits at her elbow, reading verses,\nor whispering to her, all day long. Anne could not help laughing. That cannot be much to your taste, I\nknow, said she; but I do believe him to be an excellent young man. To be sure he is. Nobody doubts it; and I hope you do not think I am\nso illiberal as to want every man to have the same objects and\npleasures as myself. I have a great value for Benwick; and when one\ncan but get him to talk, he has plenty to say. His reading has done\nhim no harm, for he has fought as well as read. He is a brave fellow.\nI got more acquainted with him last Monday than ever I did before. We\nhad a famous set-to at rat-hunting all the morning in my father's great\nbarns; and he played his part so well that I have liked him the better\never since. Here they were interrupted by the absolute necessity of Charles's following the others to admire mirrors and china; but Anne had heard enough to understand the present state of Uppercross, and rejoice in its happiness; and though she sighed as she rejoiced, her sigh had none of the ill-will of envy in it. She would certainly have risen to their blessings if she could, but she did not want to lessen theirs. The visit passed off altogether in high good humour. Mary was in excellent spirits, enjoying the gaiety and the change, and so well satisfied with the journey in her mother-in-law's carriage with four horses, and with her own complete independence of Camden Place, that she was exactly in a temper to admire everything as she ought, and enter most readily into all the superiorities of the house, as they were detailed to her. She had no demands on her father or sister, and her consequence was just enough increased by their handsome drawing-rooms. Elizabeth was, for a short time, suffering a good deal. She felt that Mrs Musgrove and all her party ought to be asked to dine with them; but she could not bear to have the difference of style, the reduction of servants, which a dinner must betray, witnessed by those who had been always so inferior to the Elliots of Kellynch. It was a struggle between propriety and vanity; but vanity got the better, and then Elizabeth was happy again. These were her internal persuasions: Old\nfashioned notions; country hospitality; we do not profess to give\ndinners; few people in Bath do; Lady Alicia never does; did not even\nask her own sister's family, though they were here a month: and I dare\nsay it would be very inconvenient to Mrs Musgrove; put her quite out of\nher way. I am sure she would rather not come; she cannot feel easy\nwith us. I will ask them all for an evening; that will be much better;\nthat will be a novelty and a treat. They have not seen two such\ndrawing rooms before. They will be delighted to come to-morrow\nevening. It shall be a regular party, small, but most elegant. And this satisfied Elizabeth: and when the invitation was given to the two present, and promised for the absent, Mary was as completely satisfied. She was particularly asked to meet Mr Elliot, and be introduced to Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, who were fortunately already engaged to come; and she could not have received a more gratifying attention. Miss Elliot was to have the honour of calling on Mrs Musgrove in the course of the morning; and Anne walked off with Charles and Mary, to go and see her and Henrietta directly. Her plan of sitting with Lady Russell must give way for the present. They all three called in Rivers Street for a couple of minutes; but Anne convinced herself that a day's delay of the intended communication could be of no consequence, and hastened forward to the White Hart, to see again the friends and companions of the last autumn, with an eagerness of good-will which many associations contributed to form. They found Mrs Musgrove and her daughter within, and by themselves, and Anne had the kindest welcome from each. Henrietta was exactly in that state of recently-improved views, of fresh-formed happiness, which made her full of regard and interest for everybody she had ever liked before at all; and Mrs Musgrove's real affection had been won by her usefulness when they were in distress. It was a heartiness, and a warmth, and a sincerity which Anne delighted in the more, from the sad want of such blessings at home. She was entreated to give them as much of her time as possible, invited for every day and all day long, or rather claimed as part of the family; and, in return, she naturally fell into all her wonted ways of attention and assistance, and on Charles's leaving them together, was listening to Mrs Musgrove's history of Louisa, and to Henrietta's of herself, giving opinions on business, and recommendations to shops; with intervals of every help which Mary required, from altering her ribbon to settling her accounts; from finding her keys, and assorting her trinkets, to trying to convince her that she was not ill-used by anybody; which Mary, well amused as she generally was, in her station at a window overlooking the entrance to the Pump Room, could not but have her moments of imagining. A morning of thorough confusion was to be expected. A large party in an hotel ensured a quick-changing, unsettled scene. One five minutes brought a note, the next a parcel; and Anne had not been there half an hour, when their dining-room, spacious as it was, seemed more than half filled: a party of steady old friends were seated around Mrs Musgrove, and Charles came back with Captains Harville and Wentworth. The appearance of the latter could not be more than the surprise of the moment. It was impossible for her to have forgotten to feel that this arrival of their common friends must be soon bringing them together again. Their last meeting had been most important in opening his feelings; she had derived from it a delightful conviction; but she feared from his looks, that the same unfortunate persuasion, which had hastened him away from the Concert Room, still governed. He did not seem to want to be near enough for conversation. She tried to be calm, and leave things to take their course, and tried to dwell much on this argument of rational dependence:--\"Surely, if there be constant attachment on each side, our hearts must understand each other ere long. We are not boy and girl, to be captiously irritable, misled by every moment's inadvertence, and wantonly playing with our own happiness.\" And yet, a few minutes afterwards, she felt as if their being in company with each other, under their present circumstances, could only be exposing them to inadvertencies and misconstructions of the most mischievous kind. Anne, cried Mary, still at her window, there is Mrs Clay, I am sure,\nstanding under the colonnade, and a gentleman with her. I saw them\nturn the corner from Bath Street just now. They seemed deep in talk.\nWho is it? Come, and tell me. Good heavens! I recollect. It is Mr\nElliot himself. No, cried Anne, quickly, it cannot be Mr Elliot, I assure you. He\nwas to leave Bath at nine this morning, and does not come back till\nto-morrow. As she spoke, she felt that Captain Wentworth was looking at her, the consciousness of which vexed and embarrassed her, and made her regret that she had said so much, simple as it was. Mary, resenting that she should be supposed not to know her own cousin, began talking very warmly about the family features, and protesting still more positively that it was Mr Elliot, calling again upon Anne to come and look for herself, but Anne did not mean to stir, and tried to be cool and unconcerned. Her distress returned, however, on perceiving smiles and intelligent glances pass between two or three of the lady visitors, as if they believed themselves quite in the secret. It was evident that the report concerning her had spread, and a short pause succeeded, which seemed to ensure that it would now spread farther. Do come, Anne cried Mary, come and look yourself. You will be too\nlate if you do not make haste. They are parting; they are shaking\nhands. He is turning away. Not know Mr Elliot, indeed! You seem to\nhave forgot all about Lyme. To pacify Mary, and perhaps screen her own embarrassment, Anne did move quietly to the window. She was just in time to ascertain that it really was Mr Elliot, which she had never believed, before he disappeared on one side, as Mrs Clay walked quickly off on the other; and checking the surprise which she could not but feel at such an appearance of friendly conference between two persons of totally opposite interest, she calmly said, Yes, it is Mr Elliot, certainly.\nHe has changed his hour of going, I suppose, that is all, or I may be\nmistaken, I might not attend; and walked back to her chair, recomposed, and with the comfortable hope of having acquitted herself well. The visitors took their leave; and Charles, having civilly seen them off, and then made a face at them, and abused them for coming, began with-- Well, mother, I have done something for you that you will like. I\nhave been to the theatre, and secured a box for to-morrow night. A'n't\nI a good boy? I know you love a play; and there is room for us all.\nIt holds nine. I have engaged Captain Wentworth. Anne will not be\nsorry to join us, I am sure. We all like a play. Have not I done\nwell, mother? Mrs Musgrove was good humouredly beginning to express her perfect readiness for the play, if Henrietta and all the others liked it, when Mary eagerly interrupted her by exclaiming-- Good heavens, Charles! how can you think of such a thing? Take a box\nfor to-morrow night! Have you forgot that we are engaged to Camden\nPlace to-morrow night? and that we were most particularly asked to meet\nLady Dalrymple and her daughter, and Mr Elliot, and all the principal\nfamily connexions, on purpose to be introduced to them? How can you be\nso forgetful? Phoo! phoo! replied Charles, what's an evening party? Never worth\nremembering. Your father might have asked us to dinner, I think, if he\nhad wanted to see us. You may do as you like, but I shall go to the\nplay. Oh! Charles, I declare it will be too abominable if you do, when you\npromised to go. No, I did not promise. I only smirked and bowed, and said the word\n'happy.' There was no promise. But you must go, Charles. It would be unpardonable to fail. We were\nasked on purpose to be introduced. There was always such a great\nconnexion between the Dalrymples and ourselves. Nothing ever happened\non either side that was not announced immediately. We are quite near\nrelations, you know; and Mr Elliot too, whom you ought so particularly\nto be acquainted with! Every attention is due to Mr Elliot. Consider,\nmy father's heir: the future representative of the family. Don't talk to me about heirs and representatives, cried Charles. I\nam not one of those who neglect the reigning power to bow to the rising\nsun. If I would not go for the sake of your father, I should think it\nscandalous to go for the sake of his heir. What is Mr Elliot to me? The careless expression was life to Anne, who saw that Captain Wentworth was all attention, looking and listening with his whole soul; and that the last words brought his enquiring eyes from Charles to herself. Charles and Mary still talked on in the same style; he, half serious and half jesting, maintaining the scheme for the play, and she, invariably serious, most warmly opposing it, and not omitting to make it known that, however determined to go to Camden Place herself, she should not think herself very well used, if they went to the play without her. Mrs Musgrove interposed. We had better put it off. Charles, you had much better go back and\nchange the box for Tuesday. It would be a pity to be divided, and we\nshould be losing Miss Anne, too, if there is a party at her father's;\nand I am sure neither Henrietta nor I should care at all for the play,\nif Miss Anne could not be with us. Anne felt truly obliged to her for such kindness; and quite as much so for the opportunity it gave her of decidedly saying-- If it depended only on my inclination, ma'am, the party at home\n(excepting on Mary's account) would not be the smallest impediment. I\nhave no pleasure in the sort of meeting, and should be too happy to\nchange it for a play, and with you. But, it had better not be\nattempted, perhaps. She had spoken it; but she trembled when it was done, conscious that her words were listened to, and daring not even to try to observe their effect. It was soon generally agreed that Tuesday should be the day; Charles only reserving the advantage of still teasing his wife, by persisting that he would go to the play to-morrow if nobody else would. Captain Wentworth left his seat, and walked to the fire-place; probably for the sake of walking away from it soon afterwards, and taking a station, with less bare-faced design, by Anne. You have not been long enough in Bath, said he, to enjoy the evening\nparties of the place. Oh! no. The usual character of them has nothing for me. I am no\ncard-player. You were not formerly, I know. You did not use to like cards; but\ntime makes many changes. I am not yet so much changed, cried Anne, and stopped, fearing she hardly knew what misconstruction. After waiting a few moments he said, and as if it were the result of immediate feeling, It is a period,\nindeed! Eight years and a half is a period. Whether he would have proceeded farther was left to Anne's imagination to ponder over in a calmer hour; for while still hearing the sounds he had uttered, she was startled to other subjects by Henrietta, eager to make use of the present leisure for getting out, and calling on her companions to lose no time, lest somebody else should come in. They were obliged to move. Anne talked of being perfectly ready, and tried to look it; but she felt that could Henrietta have known the regret and reluctance of her heart in quitting that chair, in preparing to quit the room, she would have found, in all her own sensations for her cousin, in the very security of his affection, wherewith to pity her. Their preparations, however, were stopped short. Alarming sounds were heard; other visitors approached, and the door was thrown open for Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, whose entrance seemed to give a general chill. Anne felt an instant oppression, and wherever she looked saw symptoms of the same. The comfort, the freedom, the gaiety of the room was over, hushed into cold composure, determined silence, or insipid talk, to meet the heartless elegance of her father and sister. How mortifying to feel that it was so! Her jealous eye was satisfied in one particular. Captain Wentworth was acknowledged again by each, by Elizabeth more graciously than before. She even addressed him once, and looked at him more than once. Elizabeth was, in fact, revolving a great measure. The sequel explained it. After the waste of a few minutes in saying the proper nothings, she began to give the invitation which was to comprise all the remaining dues of the Musgroves. To-morrow evening, to meet a few\nfriends: no formal party. It was all said very gracefully, and the cards with which she had provided herself, the Miss Elliot at home, were laid on the table, with a courteous, comprehensive smile to all, and one smile and one card more decidedly for Captain Wentworth. The truth was, that Elizabeth had been long enough in Bath to understand the importance of a man of such an air and appearance as his. The past was nothing. The present was that Captain Wentworth would move about well in her drawing-room. The card was pointedly given, and Sir Walter and Elizabeth arose and disappeared. The interruption had been short, though severe, and ease and animation returned to most of those they left as the door shut them out, but not to Anne. She could think only of the invitation she had with such astonishment witnessed, and of the manner in which it had been received; a manner of doubtful meaning, of surprise rather than gratification, of polite acknowledgement rather than acceptance. She knew him; she saw disdain in his eye, and could not venture to believe that he had determined to accept such an offering, as an atonement for all the insolence of the past. Her spirits sank. He held the card in his hand after they were gone, as if deeply considering it. Only think of Elizabeth's including everybody! whispered Mary very audibly. I do not wonder Captain Wentworth is delighted! You see he\ncannot put the card out of his hand. Anne caught his eye, saw his cheeks glow, and his mouth form itself into a momentary expression of contempt, and turned away, that she might neither see nor hear more to vex her. The party separated. The gentlemen had their own pursuits, the ladies proceeded on their own business, and they met no more while Anne belonged to them. She was earnestly begged to return and dine, and give them all the rest of the day, but her spirits had been so long exerted that at present she felt unequal to more, and fit only for home, where she might be sure of being as silent as she chose. Promising to be with them the whole of the following morning, therefore, she closed the fatigues of the present by a toilsome walk to Camden Place, there to spend the evening chiefly in listening to the busy arrangements of Elizabeth and Mrs Clay for the morrow's party, the frequent enumeration of the persons invited, and the continually improving detail of all the embellishments which were to make it the most completely elegant of its kind in Bath, while harassing herself with the never-ending question, of whether Captain Wentworth would come or not? They were reckoning him as certain, but with her it was a gnawing solicitude never appeased for five minutes together. She generally thought he would come, because she generally thought he ought; but it was a case which she could not so shape into any positive act of duty or discretion, as inevitably to defy the suggestions of very opposite feelings. She only roused herself from the broodings of this restless agitation, to let Mrs Clay know that she had been seen with Mr Elliot three hours after his being supposed to be out of Bath, for having watched in vain for some intimation of the interview from the lady herself, she determined to mention it, and it seemed to her there was guilt in Mrs Clay's face as she listened. It was transient: cleared away in an instant; but Anne could imagine she read there the consciousness of having, by some complication of mutual trick, or some overbearing authority of his, been obliged to attend (perhaps for half an hour) to his lectures and restrictions on her designs on Sir Walter. She exclaimed, however, with a very tolerable imitation of nature:-- Oh! dear! very true. Only think, Miss Elliot, to my great surprise I\nmet with Mr Elliot in Bath Street. I was never more astonished. He\nturned back and walked with me to the Pump Yard. He had been prevented\nsetting off for Thornberry, but I really forget by what; for I was in a\nhurry, and could not much attend, and I can only answer for his being\ndetermined not to be delayed in his return. He wanted to know how\nearly he might be admitted to-morrow. He was full of 'to-morrow,' and\nit is very evident that I have been full of it too, ever since I\nentered the house, and learnt the extension of your plan and all that\nhad happened, or my seeing him could never have gone so entirely out of\nmy head. Chapter 23 One day only had passed since Anne's conversation with Mrs Smith; but a keener interest had succeeded, and she was now so little touched by Mr Elliot's conduct, except by its effects in one quarter, that it became a matter of course the next morning, still to defer her explanatory visit in Rivers Street. She had promised to be with the Musgroves from breakfast to dinner. Her faith was plighted, and Mr Elliot's character, like the Sultaness Scheherazade's head, must live another day. She could not keep her appointment punctually, however; the weather was unfavourable, and she had grieved over the rain on her friends' account, and felt it very much on her own, before she was able to attempt the walk. When she reached the White Hart, and made her way to the proper apartment, she found herself neither arriving quite in time, nor the first to arrive. The party before her were, Mrs Musgrove, talking to Mrs Croft, and Captain Harville to Captain Wentworth; and she immediately heard that Mary and Henrietta, too impatient to wait, had gone out the moment it had cleared, but would be back again soon, and that the strictest injunctions had been left with Mrs Musgrove to keep her there till they returned. She had only to submit, sit down, be outwardly composed, and feel herself plunged at once in all the agitations which she had merely laid her account of tasting a little before the morning closed. There was no delay, no waste of time. She was deep in the happiness of such misery, or the misery of such happiness, instantly. Two minutes after her entering the room, Captain Wentworth said-- We will write the letter we were talking of, Harville, now, if you\nwill give me materials. Materials were at hand, on a separate table; he went to it, and nearly turning his back to them all, was engrossed by writing. Mrs Musgrove was giving Mrs Croft the history of her eldest daughter's engagement, and just in that inconvenient tone of voice which was perfectly audible while it pretended to be a whisper. Anne felt that she did not belong to the conversation, and yet, as Captain Harville seemed thoughtful and not disposed to talk, she could not avoid hearing many undesirable particulars; such as, how Mr Musgrove and my brother\nHayter had met again and again to talk it over; what my brother Hayter\nhad said one day, and what Mr Musgrove had proposed the next, and what\nhad occurred to my sister Hayter, and what the young people had wished,\nand what I said at first I never could consent to, but was afterwards\npersuaded to think might do very well, and a great deal in the same style of open-hearted communication: minutiae which, even with every advantage of taste and delicacy, which good Mrs Musgrove could not give, could be properly interesting only to the principals. Mrs Croft was attending with great good-humour, and whenever she spoke at all, it was very sensibly. Anne hoped the gentlemen might each be too much self-occupied to hear. And so, ma'am, all these thing considered, said Mrs Musgrove, in her powerful whisper, though we could have wished it different, yet,\naltogether, we did not think it fair to stand out any longer, for\nCharles Hayter was quite wild about it, and Henrietta was pretty near\nas bad; and so we thought they had better marry at once, and make the\nbest of it, as many others have done before them. At any rate, said I,\nit will be better than a long engagement. That is precisely what I was going to observe, cried Mrs Croft. I\nwould rather have young people settle on a small income at once, and\nhave to struggle with a few difficulties together, than be involved in\na long engagement. I always think that no mutual-- Oh! dear Mrs Croft, cried Mrs Musgrove, unable to let her finish her speech, there is nothing I so abominate for young people as a long\nengagement. It is what I always protested against for my children. It\nis all very well, I used to say, for young people to be engaged, if\nthere is a certainty of their being able to marry in six months, or\neven in twelve; but a long engagement-- Yes, dear ma'am, said Mrs Croft, or an uncertain engagement, an\nengagement which may be long. To begin without knowing that at such a\ntime there will be the means of marrying, I hold to be very unsafe and\nunwise, and what I think all parents should prevent as far as they can. Anne found an unexpected interest here. She felt its application to herself, felt it in a nervous thrill all over her; and at the same moment that her eyes instinctively glanced towards the distant table, Captain Wentworth's pen ceased to move, his head was raised, pausing, listening, and he turned round the next instant to give a look, one quick, conscious look at her. The two ladies continued to talk, to re-urge the same admitted truths, and enforce them with such examples of the ill effect of a contrary practice as had fallen within their observation, but Anne heard nothing distinctly; it was only a buzz of words in her ear, her mind was in confusion. Captain Harville, who had in truth been hearing none of it, now left his seat, and moved to a window, and Anne seeming to watch him, though it was from thorough absence of mind, became gradually sensible that he was inviting her to join him where he stood. He looked at her with a smile, and a little motion of the head, which expressed, Come to me, I\nhave something to say; and the unaffected, easy kindness of manner which denoted the feelings of an older acquaintance than he really was, strongly enforced the invitation. She roused herself and went to him. The window at which he stood was at the other end of the room from where the two ladies were sitting, and though nearer to Captain Wentworth's table, not very near. As she joined him, Captain Harville's countenance re-assumed the serious, thoughtful expression which seemed its natural character. Look here, said he, unfolding a parcel in his hand, and displaying a small miniature painting, do you know who that is? Certainly: Captain Benwick. Yes, and you may guess who it is for. But, (in a deep tone,) it was\nnot done for her. Miss Elliot, do you remember our walking together at\nLyme, and grieving for him? I little thought then--but no matter.\nThis was drawn at the Cape. He met with a clever young German artist\nat the Cape, and in compliance with a promise to my poor sister, sat to\nhim, and was bringing it home for her; and I have now the charge of\ngetting it properly set for another! It was a commission to me! But\nwho else was there to employ? I hope I can allow for him. I am not\nsorry, indeed, to make it over to another. He undertakes it; (looking towards Captain Wentworth,) he is writing about it now. And with a quivering lip he wound up the whole by adding, Poor Fanny! she would\nnot have forgotten him so soon! No, replied Anne, in a low, feeling voice. That I can easily\nbelieve. It was not in her nature. She doted on him. It would not be the nature of any woman who truly loved. Captain Harville smiled, as much as to say, Do you claim that for your\nsex? and she answered the question, smiling also, Yes. We certainly\ndo not forget you as soon as you forget us. It is, perhaps, our fate\nrather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home,\nquiet, confined, and our feelings prey upon us. You are forced on\nexertion. You have always a profession, pursuits, business of some\nsort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and\ncontinual occupation and change soon weaken impressions. Granting your assertion that the world does all this so soon for men\n(which, however, I do not think I shall grant), it does not apply to\nBenwick. He has not been forced upon any exertion. The peace turned\nhim on shore at the very moment, and he has been living with us, in our\nlittle family circle, ever since. True, said Anne, very true; I did not recollect; but what shall we\nsay now, Captain Harville? If the change be not from outward\ncircumstances, it must be from within; it must be nature, man's nature,\nwhich has done the business for Captain Benwick. No, no, it is not man's nature. I will not allow it to be more man's\nnature than woman's to be inconstant and forget those they do love, or\nhave loved. I believe the reverse. I believe in a true analogy\nbetween our bodily frames and our mental; and that as our bodies are\nthe strongest, so are our feelings; capable of bearing most rough\nusage, and riding out the heaviest weather. Your feelings may be the strongest, replied Anne, but the same\nspirit of analogy will authorise me to assert that ours are the most\ntender. Man is more robust than woman, but he is not longer lived;\nwhich exactly explains my view of the nature of their attachments.\nNay, it would be too hard upon you, if it were otherwise. You have\ndifficulties, and privations, and dangers enough to struggle with. You\nare always labouring and toiling, exposed to every risk and hardship.\nYour home, country, friends, all quitted. Neither time, nor health,\nnor life, to be called your own. It would be hard, indeed (with a faltering voice), if woman's feelings were to be added to all this. We shall never agree upon this question, Captain Harville was beginning to say, when a slight noise called their attention to Captain Wentworth's hitherto perfectly quiet division of the room. It was nothing more than that his pen had fallen down; but Anne was startled at finding him nearer than she had supposed, and half inclined to suspect that the pen had only fallen because he had been occupied by them, striving to catch sounds, which yet she did not think he could have caught. Have you finished your letter? said Captain Harville. Not quite, a few lines more. I shall have done in five minutes. There is no hurry on my side. I am only ready whenever you are. I am\nin very good anchorage here, (smiling at Anne,) well supplied, and\nwant for nothing. No hurry for a signal at all. Well, Miss Elliot, (lowering his voice,) as I was saying we shall never agree, I suppose,\nupon this point. No man and woman, would, probably. But let me\nobserve that all histories are against you--all stories, prose and\nverse. If I had such a memory as Benwick, I could bring you fifty\nquotations in a moment on my side the argument, and I do not think I\never opened a book in my life which had not something to say upon\nwoman's inconstancy. Songs and proverbs, all talk of woman's\nfickleness. But perhaps you will say, these were all written by men. Perhaps I shall. Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to examples in\nbooks. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story.\nEducation has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been\nin their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything. But how shall we prove anything? We never shall. We never can expect to prove any thing upon such a\npoint. It is a difference of opinion which does not admit of proof.\nWe each begin, probably, with a little bias towards our own sex; and\nupon that bias build every circumstance in favour of it which has\noccurred within our own circle; many of which circumstances (perhaps\nthose very cases which strike us the most) may be precisely such as\ncannot be brought forward without betraying a confidence, or in some\nrespect saying what should not be said. Ah! cried Captain Harville, in a tone of strong feeling, if I could\nbut make you comprehend what a man suffers when he takes a last look at\nhis wife and children, and watches the boat that he has sent them off\nin, as long as it is in sight, and then turns away and says, 'God knows\nwhether we ever meet again!' And then, if I could convey to you the\nglow of his soul when he does see them again; when, coming back after a\ntwelvemonth's absence, perhaps, and obliged to put into another port,\nhe calculates how soon it be possible to get them there, pretending to\ndeceive himself, and saying, 'They cannot be here till such a day,' but\nall the while hoping for them twelve hours sooner, and seeing them\narrive at last, as if Heaven had given them wings, by many hours sooner\nstill! If I could explain to you all this, and all that a man can bear\nand do, and glories to do, for the sake of these treasures of his\nexistence! I speak, you know, only of such men as have hearts! pressing his own with emotion. Oh! cried Anne eagerly, I hope I do justice to all that is felt by\nyou, and by those who resemble you. God forbid that I should\nundervalue the warm and faithful feelings of any of my\nfellow-creatures! I should deserve utter contempt if I dared to\nsuppose that true attachment and constancy were known only by woman.\nNo, I believe you capable of everything great and good in your married\nlives. I believe you equal to every important exertion, and to every\ndomestic forbearance, so long as--if I may be allowed the\nexpression--so long as you have an object. I mean while the woman you\nlove lives, and lives for you. All the privilege I claim for my own\nsex (it is not a very enviable one; you need not covet it), is that of\nloving longest, when existence or when hope is gone. She could not immediately have uttered another sentence; her heart was too full, her breath too much oppressed. You are a good soul, cried Captain Harville, putting his hand on her arm, quite affectionately. There is no quarrelling with you. And\nwhen I think of Benwick, my tongue is tied. Their attention was called towards the others. Mrs Croft was taking leave. Here, Frederick, you and I part company, I believe, said she. I am\ngoing home, and you have an engagement with your friend. To-night we\nmay have the pleasure of all meeting again at your party, (turning to Anne.) We had your sister's card yesterday, and I understood\nFrederick had a card too, though I did not see it; and you are\ndisengaged, Frederick, are you not, as well as ourselves? Captain Wentworth was folding up a letter in great haste, and either could not or would not answer fully. Yes, said he, very true; here we separate, but Harville and I shall\nsoon be after you; that is, Harville, if you are ready, I am in half a\nminute. I know you will not be sorry to be off. I shall be at your\nservice in half a minute. Mrs Croft left them, and Captain Wentworth, having sealed his letter with great rapidity, was indeed ready, and had even a hurried, agitated air, which shewed impatience to be gone. Anne knew not how to understand it. She had the kindest Good morning, God bless you! from Captain Harville, but from him not a word, nor a look! He had passed out of the room without a look! She had only time, however, to move closer to the table where he had been writing, when footsteps were heard returning; the door opened, it was himself. He begged their pardon, but he had forgotten his gloves, and instantly crossing the room to the writing table, he drew out a letter from under the scattered paper, placed it before Anne with eyes of glowing entreaty fixed on her for a time, and hastily collecting his gloves, was again out of the room, almost before Mrs Musgrove was aware of his being in it: the work of an instant! The revolution which one instant had made in Anne, was almost beyond expression. The letter, with a direction hardly legible, to Miss A.\nE.--, was evidently the one which he had been folding so hastily. While supposed to be writing only to Captain Benwick, he had been also addressing her! On the contents of that letter depended all which this world could do for her. Anything was possible, anything might be defied rather than suspense. Mrs Musgrove had little arrangements of her own at her own table; to their protection she must trust, and sinking into the chair which he had occupied, succeeding to the very spot where he had leaned and written, her eyes devoured the following words: I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means\nas are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half\nhope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are\ngone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your\nown than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare\nnot say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an\nearlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been,\nweak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have\nbrought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not\nseen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not\nwaited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think\nyou must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant\nhearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can\ndistinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others.\nToo good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do\nbelieve that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe\nit to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W.\n\n I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.\" Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from. Half an hour's solitude and reflection might have tranquillized her; but the ten minutes only which now passed before she was interrupted, with all the restraints of her situation, could do nothing towards tranquillity. Every moment rather brought fresh agitation. It was overpowering happiness. And before she was beyond the first stage of full sensation, Charles, Mary, and Henrietta all came in. The absolute necessity of seeming like herself produced then an immediate struggle; but after a while she could do no more. She began not to understand a word they said, and was obliged to plead indisposition and excuse herself. They could then see that she looked very ill, were shocked and concerned, and would not stir without her for the world. This was dreadful. Would they only have gone away, and left her in the quiet possession of that room it would have been her cure; but to have them all standing or waiting around her was distracting, and in desperation, she said she would go home. By all means, my dear, cried Mrs Musgrove, go home directly, and\ntake care of yourself, that you may be fit for the evening. I wish\nSarah was here to doctor you, but I am no doctor myself. Charles, ring\nand order a chair. She must not walk. But the chair would never do. Worse than all! To lose the possibility of speaking two words to Captain Wentworth in the course of her quiet, solitary progress up the town (and she felt almost certain of meeting him) could not be borne. The chair was earnestly protested against, and Mrs Musgrove, who thought only of one sort of illness, having assured herself with some anxiety, that there had been no fall in the case; that Anne had not at any time lately slipped down, and got a blow on her head; that she was perfectly convinced of having had no fall; could part with her cheerfully, and depend on finding her better at night. Anxious to omit no possible precaution, Anne struggled, and said-- I am afraid, ma'am, that it is not perfectly understood. Pray be so\ngood as to mention to the other gentlemen that we hope to see your\nwhole party this evening. I am afraid there had been some mistake; and\nI wish you particularly to assure Captain Harville and Captain\nWentworth, that we hope to see them both. Oh! my dear, it is quite understood, I give you my word. Captain\nHarville has no thought but of going. Do you think so? But I am afraid; and I should be so very sorry.\nWill you promise me to mention it, when you see them again? You will\nsee them both this morning, I dare say. Do promise me. To be sure I will, if you wish it. Charles, if you see Captain\nHarville anywhere, remember to give Miss Anne's message. But indeed,\nmy dear, you need not be uneasy. Captain Harville holds himself quite\nengaged, I'll answer for it; and Captain Wentworth the same, I dare\nsay. Anne could do no more; but her heart prophesied some mischance to damp the perfection of her felicity. It could not be very lasting, however. Even if he did not come to Camden Place himself, it would be in her power to send an intelligible sentence by Captain Harville. Another momentary vexation occurred. Charles, in his real concern and good nature, would go home with her; there was no preventing him. This was almost cruel. But she could not be long ungrateful; he was sacrificing an engagement at a gunsmith's, to be of use to her; and she set off with him, with no feeling but gratitude apparent. They were on Union Street, when a quicker step behind, a something of familiar sound, gave her two moments' preparation for the sight of Captain Wentworth. He joined them; but, as if irresolute whether to join or to pass on, said nothing, only looked. Anne could command herself enough to receive that look, and not repulsively. The cheeks which had been pale now glowed, and the movements which had hesitated were decided. He walked by her side. Presently, struck by a sudden thought, Charles said-- Captain Wentworth, which way are you going? Only to Gay Street, or\nfarther up the town? I hardly know, replied Captain Wentworth, surprised. Are you going as high as Belmont? Are you going near Camden Place?\nBecause, if you are, I shall have no scruple in asking you to take my\nplace, and give Anne your arm to her father's door. She is rather done\nfor this morning, and must not go so far without help, and I ought to\nbe at that fellow's in the Market Place. He promised me the sight of a\ncapital gun he is just going to send off; said he would keep it\nunpacked to the last possible moment, that I might see it; and if I do\nnot turn back now, I have no chance. By his description, a good deal\nlike the second size double-barrel of mine, which you shot with one day\nround Winthrop. There could not be an objection. There could be only the most proper alacrity, a most obliging compliance for public view; and smiles reined in and spirits dancing in private rapture. In half a minute Charles was at the bottom of Union Street again, and the other two proceeding together: and soon words enough had passed between them to decide their direction towards the comparatively quiet and retired gravel walk, where the power of conversation would make the present hour a blessing indeed, and prepare it for all the immortality which the happiest recollections of their own future lives could bestow. There they exchanged again those feelings and those promises which had once before seemed to secure everything, but which had been followed by so many, many years of division and estrangement. There they returned again into the past, more exquisitely happy, perhaps, in their re-union, than when it had been first projected; more tender, more tried, more fixed in a knowledge of each other's character, truth, and attachment; more equal to act, more justified in acting. And there, as they slowly paced the gradual ascent, heedless of every group around them, seeing neither sauntering politicians, bustling housekeepers, flirting girls, nor nursery-maids and children, they could indulge in those retrospections and acknowledgements, and especially in those explanations of what had directly preceded the present moment, which were so poignant and so ceaseless in interest. All the little variations of the last week were gone through; and of yesterday and today there could scarcely be an end. She had not mistaken him. Jealousy of Mr Elliot had been the retarding weight, the doubt, the torment. That had begun to operate in the very hour of first meeting her in Bath; that had returned, after a short suspension, to ruin the concert; and that had influenced him in everything he had said and done, or omitted to say and do, in the last four-and-twenty hours. It had been gradually yielding to the better hopes which her looks, or words, or actions occasionally encouraged; it had been vanquished at last by those sentiments and those tones which had reached him while she talked with Captain Harville; and under the irresistible governance of which he had seized a sheet of paper, and poured out his feelings. Of what he had then written, nothing was to be retracted or qualified. He persisted in having loved none but her. She had never been supplanted. He never even believed himself to see her equal. Thus much indeed he was obliged to acknowledge: that he had been constant unconsciously, nay unintentionally; that he had meant to forget her, and believed it to be done. He had imagined himself indifferent, when he had only been angry; and he had been unjust to her merits, because he had been a sufferer from them. Her character was now fixed on his mind as perfection itself, maintaining the loveliest medium of fortitude and gentleness; but he was obliged to acknowledge that only at Uppercross had he learnt to do her justice, and only at Lyme had he begun to understand himself. At Lyme, he had received lessons of more than one sort. The passing admiration of Mr Elliot had at least roused him, and the scenes on the Cobb and at Captain Harville's had fixed her superiority. In his preceding attempts to attach himself to Louisa Musgrove (the attempts of angry pride), he protested that he had for ever felt it to be impossible; that he had not cared, could not care, for Louisa; though till that day, till the leisure for reflection which followed it, he had not understood the perfect excellence of the mind with which Louisa's could so ill bear a comparison, or the perfect unrivalled hold it possessed over his own. There, he had learnt to distinguish between the steadiness of principle and the obstinacy of self-will, between the darings of heedlessness and the resolution of a collected mind. There he had seen everything to exalt in his estimation the woman he had lost; and there begun to deplore the pride, the folly, the madness of resentment, which had kept him from trying to regain her when thrown in his way. From that period his penance had become severe. He had no sooner been free from the horror and remorse attending the first few days of Louisa's accident, no sooner begun to feel himself alive again, than he had begun to feel himself, though alive, not at liberty. I found, said he, that I was considered by Harville an engaged man!\nThat neither Harville nor his wife entertained a doubt of our mutual\nattachment. I was startled and shocked. To a degree, I could\ncontradict this instantly; but, when I began to reflect that others\nmight have felt the same--her own family, nay, perhaps herself--I was\nno longer at my own disposal. I was hers in honour if she wished it.\nI had been unguarded. I had not thought seriously on this subject\nbefore. I had not considered that my excessive intimacy must have its\ndanger of ill consequence in many ways; and that I had no right to be\ntrying whether I could attach myself to either of the girls, at the\nrisk of raising even an unpleasant report, were there no other ill\neffects. I had been grossly wrong, and must abide the consequences. He found too late, in short, that he had entangled himself; and that precisely as he became fully satisfied of his not caring for Louisa at all, he must regard himself as bound to her, if her sentiments for him were what the Harvilles supposed. It determined him to leave Lyme, and await her complete recovery elsewhere. He would gladly weaken, by any fair means, whatever feelings or speculations concerning him might exist; and he went, therefore, to his brother's, meaning after a while to return to Kellynch, and act as circumstances might require. I was six weeks with Edward, said he, and saw him happy. I could\nhave no other pleasure. I deserved none. He enquired after you very\nparticularly; asked even if you were personally altered, little\nsuspecting that to my eye you could never alter. Anne smiled, and let it pass. It was too pleasing a blunder for a reproach. It is something for a woman to be assured, in her eight-and-twentieth year, that she has not lost one charm of earlier youth; but the value of such homage was inexpressibly increased to Anne, by comparing it with former words, and feeling it to be the result, not the cause of a revival of his warm attachment. He had remained in Shropshire, lamenting the blindness of his own pride, and the blunders of his own calculations, till at once released from Louisa by the astonishing and felicitous intelligence of her engagement with Benwick. Here, said he, ended the worst of my state; for now I could at least\nput myself in the way of happiness; I could exert myself; I could do\nsomething. But to be waiting so long in inaction, and waiting only for\nevil, had been dreadful. Within the first five minutes I said, 'I will\nbe at Bath on Wednesday,' and I was. Was it unpardonable to think it\nworth my while to come? and to arrive with some degree of hope? You\nwere single. It was possible that you might retain the feelings of the\npast, as I did; and one encouragement happened to be mine. I could\nnever doubt that you would be loved and sought by others, but I knew to\na certainty that you had refused one man, at least, of better\npretensions than myself; and I could not help often saying, 'Was this\nfor me?' Their first meeting in Milsom Street afforded much to be said, but the concert still more. That evening seemed to be made up of exquisite moments. The moment of her stepping forward in the Octagon Room to speak to him: the moment of Mr Elliot's appearing and tearing her away, and one or two subsequent moments, marked by returning hope or increasing despondency, were dwelt on with energy. To see you, cried he, in the midst of those who could not be my\nwell-wishers; to see your cousin close by you, conversing and smiling,\nand feel all the horrible eligibilities and proprieties of the match!\nTo consider it as the certain wish of every being who could hope to\ninfluence you! Even if your own feelings were reluctant or\nindifferent, to consider what powerful supports would be his! Was it\nnot enough to make the fool of me which I appeared? How could I look\non without agony? Was not the very sight of the friend who sat behind\nyou, was not the recollection of what had been, the knowledge of her\ninfluence, the indelible, immoveable impression of what persuasion had\nonce done--was it not all against me? You should have distinguished, replied Anne. You should not have\nsuspected me now; the case is so different, and my age is so different.\nIf I was wrong in yielding to persuasion once, remember that it was to\npersuasion exerted on the side of safety, not of risk. When I yielded,\nI thought it was to duty, but no duty could be called in aid here. In\nmarrying a man indifferent to me, all risk would have been incurred,\nand all duty violated. Perhaps I ought to have reasoned thus, he replied, but I could not.\nI could not derive benefit from the late knowledge I had acquired of\nyour character. I could not bring it into play; it was overwhelmed,\nburied, lost in those earlier feelings which I had been smarting under\nyear after year. I could think of you only as one who had yielded, who\nhad given me up, who had been influenced by any one rather than by me.\nI saw you with the very person who had guided you in that year of\nmisery. I had no reason to believe her of less authority now. The\nforce of habit was to be added. I should have thought, said Anne, that my manner to yourself might\nhave spared you much or all of this. No, no! your manner might be only the ease which your engagement to\nanother man would give. I left you in this belief; and yet, I was\ndetermined to see you again. My spirits rallied with the morning, and\nI felt that I had still a motive for remaining here. At last Anne was at home again, and happier than any one in that house could have conceived. All the surprise and suspense, and every other painful part of the morning dissipated by this conversation, she re-entered the house so happy as to be obliged to find an alloy in some momentary apprehensions of its being impossible to last. An interval of meditation, serious and grateful, was the best corrective of everything dangerous in such high-wrought felicity; and she went to her room, and grew steadfast and fearless in the thankfulness of her enjoyment. The evening came, the drawing-rooms were lighted up, the company assembled. It was but a card party, it was but a mixture of those who had never met before, and those who met too often; a commonplace business, too numerous for intimacy, too small for variety; but Anne had never found an evening shorter. Glowing and lovely in sensibility and happiness, and more generally admired than she thought about or cared for, she had cheerful or forbearing feelings for every creature around her. Mr Elliot was there; she avoided, but she could pity him. The Wallises, she had amusement in understanding them. Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret--they would soon be innoxious cousins to her. She cared not for Mrs Clay, and had nothing to blush for in the public manners of her father and sister. With the Musgroves, there was the happy chat of perfect ease; with Captain Harville, the kind-hearted intercourse of brother and sister; with Lady Russell, attempts at conversation, which a delicious consciousness cut short; with Admiral and Mrs Croft, everything of peculiar cordiality and fervent interest, which the same consciousness sought to conceal; and with Captain Wentworth, some moments of communications continually occurring, and always the hope of more, and always the knowledge of his being there. It was in one of these short meetings, each apparently occupied in admiring a fine display of greenhouse plants, that she said-- I have been thinking over the past, and trying impartially to judge of\nthe right and wrong, I mean with regard to myself; and I must believe\nthat I was right, much as I suffered from it, that I was perfectly\nright in being guided by the friend whom you will love better than you\ndo now. To me, she was in the place of a parent. Do not mistake me,\nhowever. I am not saying that she did not err in her advice. It was,\nperhaps, one of those cases in which advice is good or bad only as the\nevent decides; and for myself, I certainly never should, in any\ncircumstance of tolerable similarity, give such advice. But I mean,\nthat I was right in submitting to her, and that if I had done\notherwise, I should have suffered more in continuing the engagement\nthan I did even in giving it up, because I should have suffered in my\nconscience. I have now, as far as such a sentiment is allowable in\nhuman nature, nothing to reproach myself with; and if I mistake not, a\nstrong sense of duty is no bad part of a woman's portion. He looked at her, looked at Lady Russell, and looking again at her, replied, as if in cool deliberation-- Not yet. But there are hopes of her being forgiven in time. I trust\nto being in charity with her soon. But I too have been thinking over\nthe past, and a question has suggested itself, whether there may not\nhave been one person more my enemy even than that lady? My own self.\nTell me if, when I returned to England in the year eight, with a few\nthousand pounds, and was posted into the Laconia, if I had then written\nto you, would you have answered my letter? Would you, in short, have\nrenewed the engagement then? Would I! was all her answer; but the accent was decisive enough. Good God! he cried, you would! It is not that I did not think of\nit, or desire it, as what could alone crown all my other success; but I\nwas proud, too proud to ask again. I did not understand you. I shut\nmy eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice. This is a\nrecollection which ought to make me forgive every one sooner than\nmyself. Six years of separation and suffering might have been spared.\nIt is a sort of pain, too, which is new to me. I have been used to the\ngratification of believing myself to earn every blessing that I\nenjoyed. I have valued myself on honourable toils and just rewards.\nLike other great men under reverses, he added, with a smile. I must\nendeavour to subdue my mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being\nhappier than I deserve. Chapter 24 Who can be in doubt of what followed? When any two young people take it into their heads to marry, they are pretty sure by perseverance to carry their point, be they ever so poor, or ever so imprudent, or ever so little likely to be necessary to each other's ultimate comfort. This may be bad morality to conclude with, but I believe it to be truth; and if such parties succeed, how should a Captain Wentworth and an Anne Elliot, with the advantage of maturity of mind, consciousness of right, and one independent fortune between them, fail of bearing down every opposition? They might in fact, have borne down a great deal more than they met with, for there was little to distress them beyond the want of graciousness and warmth. Sir Walter made no objection, and Elizabeth did nothing worse than look cold and unconcerned. Captain Wentworth, with five-and-twenty thousand pounds, and as high in his profession as merit and activity could place him, was no longer nobody. He was now esteemed quite worthy to address the daughter of a foolish, spendthrift baronet, who had not had principle or sense enough to maintain himself in the situation in which Providence had placed him, and who could give his daughter at present but a small part of the share of ten thousand pounds which must be hers hereafter. Sir Walter, indeed, though he had no affection for Anne, and no vanity flattered, to make him really happy on the occasion, was very far from thinking it a bad match for her. On the contrary, when he saw more of Captain Wentworth, saw him repeatedly by daylight, and eyed him well, he was very much struck by his personal claims, and felt that his superiority of appearance might be not unfairly balanced against her superiority of rank; and all this, assisted by his well-sounding name, enabled Sir Walter at last to prepare his pen, with a very good grace, for the insertion of the marriage in the volume of honour. The only one among them, whose opposition of feeling could excite any serious anxiety was Lady Russell. Anne knew that Lady Russell must be suffering some pain in understanding and relinquishing Mr Elliot, and be making some struggles to become truly acquainted with, and do justice to Captain Wentworth. This however was what Lady Russell had now to do. She must learn to feel that she had been mistaken with regard to both; that she had been unfairly influenced by appearances in each; that because Captain Wentworth's manners had not suited her own ideas, she had been too quick in suspecting them to indicate a character of dangerous impetuosity; and that because Mr Elliot's manners had precisely pleased her in their propriety and correctness, their general politeness and suavity, she had been too quick in receiving them as the certain result of the most correct opinions and well-regulated mind. There was nothing less for Lady Russell to do, than to admit that she had been pretty completely wrong, and to take up a new set of opinions and of hopes. There is a quickness of perception in some, a nicety in the discernment of character, a natural penetration, in short, which no experience in others can equal, and Lady Russell had been less gifted in this part of understanding than her young friend. But she was a very good woman, and if her second object was to be sensible and well-judging, her first was to see Anne happy. She loved Anne better than she loved her own abilities; and when the awkwardness of the beginning was over, found little hardship in attaching herself as a mother to the man who was securing the happiness of her other child. Of all the family, Mary was probably the one most immediately gratified by the circumstance. It was creditable to have a sister married, and she might flatter herself with having been greatly instrumental to the connexion, by keeping Anne with her in the autumn; and as her own sister must be better than her husband's sisters, it was very agreeable that Captain Wentworth should be a richer man than either Captain Benwick or Charles Hayter. She had something to suffer, perhaps, when they came into contact again, in seeing Anne restored to the rights of seniority, and the mistress of a very pretty landaulette; but she had a future to look forward to, of powerful consolation. Anne had no Uppercross Hall before her, no landed estate, no headship of a family; and if they could but keep Captain Wentworth from being made a baronet, she would not change situations with Anne. It would be well for the eldest sister if she were equally satisfied with her situation, for a change is not very probable there. She had soon the mortification of seeing Mr Elliot withdraw, and no one of proper condition has since presented himself to raise even the unfounded hopes which sunk with him. The news of his cousins Anne's engagement burst on Mr Elliot most unexpectedly. It deranged his best plan of domestic happiness, his best hope of keeping Sir Walter single by the watchfulness which a son-in-law's rights would have given. But, though discomfited and disappointed, he could still do something for his own interest and his own enjoyment. He soon quitted Bath; and on Mrs Clay's quitting it soon afterwards, and being next heard of as established under his protection in London, it was evident how double a game he had been playing, and how determined he was to save himself from being cut out by one artful woman, at least. Mrs Clay's affections had overpowered her interest, and she had sacrificed, for the young man's sake, the possibility of scheming longer for Sir Walter. She has abilities, however, as well as affections; and it is now a doubtful point whether his cunning, or hers, may finally carry the day; whether, after preventing her from being the wife of Sir Walter, he may not be wheedled and caressed at last into making her the wife of Sir William. It cannot be doubted that Sir Walter and Elizabeth were shocked and mortified by the loss of their companion, and the discovery of their deception in her. They had their great cousins, to be sure, to resort to for comfort; but they must long feel that to flatter and follow others, without being flattered and followed in turn, is but a state of half enjoyment. Anne, satisfied at a very early period of Lady Russell's meaning to love Captain Wentworth as she ought, had no other alloy to the happiness of her prospects than what arose from the consciousness of having no relations to bestow on him which a man of sense could value. There she felt her own inferiority very keenly. The disproportion in their fortune was nothing; it did not give her a moment's regret; but to have no family to receive and estimate him properly, nothing of respectability, of harmony, of good will to offer in return for all the worth and all the prompt welcome which met her in his brothers and sisters, was a source of as lively pain as her mind could well be sensible of under circumstances of otherwise strong felicity. She had but two friends in the world to add to his list, Lady Russell and Mrs Smith. To those, however, he was very well disposed to attach himself. Lady Russell, in spite of all her former transgressions, he could now value from his heart. While he was not obliged to say that he believed her to have been right in originally dividing them, he was ready to say almost everything else in her favour, and as for Mrs Smith, she had claims of various kinds to recommend her quickly and permanently. Her recent good offices by Anne had been enough in themselves, and their marriage, instead of depriving her of one friend, secured her two. She was their earliest visitor in their settled life; and Captain Wentworth, by putting her in the way of recovering her husband's property in the West Indies, by writing for her, acting for her, and seeing her through all the petty difficulties of the case with the activity and exertion of a fearless man and a determined friend, fully requited the services which she had rendered, or ever meant to render, to his wife. Mrs Smith's enjoyments were not spoiled by this improvement of income, with some improvement of health, and the acquisition of such friends to be often with, for her cheerfulness and mental alacrity did not fail her; and while these prime supplies of good remained, she might have bid defiance even to greater accessions of worldly prosperity. She might have been absolutely rich and perfectly healthy, and yet be happy. Her spring of felicity was in the glow of her spirits, as her friend Anne's was in the warmth of her heart. Anne was tenderness itself, and she had the full worth of it in Captain Wentworth's affection. His profession was all that could ever make her friends wish that tenderness less, the dread of a future war all that could dim her sunshine. She gloried in being a sailor's wife, but she must pay the tax of quick alarm for belonging to that profession which is, if possible, more distinguished in its domestic virtues than in its national importance. "Creating a Corpus from a Data Frame or Vector
Load a .csv file containing the most recent set of tweets by President Barak Obama from his #potus twitter feed.
library(curl)
f <- curl("https://raw.githubusercontent.com/fuzzyatelin/fuzzyatelin.github.io/master/AN597_Fall17/potustweets.csv")
f <- read.csv(f, header = TRUE, sep = ",")
tweetCorpus <- Corpus(VectorSource(f$text)) # each document is the text of a tweet
# summary(tweetCorpus) # NOTE: THIS LINE NOT RUN TO AVOID COPIOUS OUTPUT
# inspect(tweetCorpus) # NOTE: THIS LINE NOT RUN TO AVOID COPIOUS OUTPUT to
# remove empty docs from corpus
for (i in 1:length(tweetCorpus)) {
if (tweetCorpus[[i]]$content == "") {
tweetCorpus[[i]] <- NULL
}
}
tweetCorpus[[1]]$meta # show the metadata for document 1## author : character(0)
## datetimestamp: 2017-11-19 14:43:40
## description : character(0)
## heading : character(0)
## id : 1
## language : en
## origin : character(0)head(tweetCorpus[[1]]$content) # show the start of document 1## [1] "Today, we honor those who honored our country with its highest form of service. We owe our veterans our thanks, our respect and our freedom."Pre-Processing
Once you are sure that all documents loaded properly, we need to perform some pre-processing of our text data to prepare it for analysis. This step allows us to remove numbers, capitalization, common words, and punctuation. A number of basic text transformations are all available within {tm} using the tm_map() command.
Removing URLs:
removeURLs <- content_transformer(function(x) gsub("http[^[:space:]]*", "",
x))
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, removeURLs)Replacing Odd Characters:
We can use the content_transformer() and gsub() functions and regular expresssions to search and replace in the documents in our corpora.
replace <- content_transformer(function(x, pattern) gsub(pattern, " ", x))
dirCorpus <- tm_map(dirCorpus, replace, "[!@#$%^&*|\\]") # replaces odd characters; double backslash is really escape character '\' plus '\'
fileCorpus <- tm_map(fileCorpus, replace, "[!@#$%^&*|\\]") # replaces odd characters
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, replace, "[!@#$%^&*|\\]") # replaces odd charactersConverting to Lowercase:
dirCorpus <- tm_map(dirCorpus, content_transformer(tolower)) # we wrap the function `tolower` in `content_transformer()` because it is not a function built into the {tm} package
fileCorpus <- tm_map(fileCorpus, content_transformer(tolower))
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, content_transformer(tolower))Removing Punctuation:
dirCorpus <- tm_map(dirCorpus, removePunctuation)
fileCorpus <- tm_map(fileCorpus, removePunctuation)
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, removePunctuation)Removing Numbers:
dirCorpus <- tm_map(dirCorpus, removeNumbers)
fileCorpus <- tm_map(fileCorpus, removeNumbers)
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, removeNumbers)Removing Stopwords:
Stopwords are (common words) that usually have no analytic value. In every text, there are a lot of common, and uninteresting words (a, and, also, the, etc.). Such words are frequent by their nature, and will confound your analysis if they remain in the text.
stopwords("english") # built in list of stopwords## [1] "i" "me" "my" "myself" "we"
## [6] "our" "ours" "ourselves" "you" "your"
## [11] "yours" "yourself" "yourselves" "he" "him"
## [16] "his" "himself" "she" "her" "hers"
## [21] "herself" "it" "its" "itself" "they"
## [26] "them" "their" "theirs" "themselves" "what"
## [31] "which" "who" "whom" "this" "that"
## [36] "these" "those" "am" "is" "are"
## [41] "was" "were" "be" "been" "being"
## [46] "have" "has" "had" "having" "do"
## [51] "does" "did" "doing" "would" "should"
## [56] "could" "ought" "i'm" "you're" "he's"
## [61] "she's" "it's" "we're" "they're" "i've"
## [66] "you've" "we've" "they've" "i'd" "you'd"
## [71] "he'd" "she'd" "we'd" "they'd" "i'll"
## [76] "you'll" "he'll" "she'll" "we'll" "they'll"
## [81] "isn't" "aren't" "wasn't" "weren't" "hasn't"
## [86] "haven't" "hadn't" "doesn't" "don't" "didn't"
## [91] "won't" "wouldn't" "shan't" "shouldn't" "can't"
## [96] "cannot" "couldn't" "mustn't" "let's" "that's"
## [101] "who's" "what's" "here's" "there's" "when's"
## [106] "where's" "why's" "how's" "a" "an"
## [111] "the" "and" "but" "if" "or"
## [116] "because" "as" "until" "while" "of"
## [121] "at" "by" "for" "with" "about"
## [126] "against" "between" "into" "through" "during"
## [131] "before" "after" "above" "below" "to"
## [136] "from" "up" "down" "in" "out"
## [141] "on" "off" "over" "under" "again"
## [146] "further" "then" "once" "here" "there"
## [151] "when" "where" "why" "how" "all"
## [156] "any" "both" "each" "few" "more"
## [161] "most" "other" "some" "such" "no"
## [166] "nor" "not" "only" "own" "same"
## [171] "so" "than" "too" "very"mystopwords <- c(stopwords("english")) # we can add or remove words from this list to this
dirCorpus <- tm_map(dirCorpus, removeWords, mystopwords)
fileCorpus <- tm_map(fileCorpus, removeWords, mystopwords)
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, removeWords, mystopwords)Removing Other Select Words:
If you find that a particular word or words appear in the output but are not of value to your particular analysis. You can remove them, specifically, from the text.
toCut <- c("email", "Austin")
dirCorpus <- tm_map(dirCorpus, removeWords, toCut)
fileCorpus <- tm_map(fileCorpus, removeWords, toCut)
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, removeWords, toCut)Removing Common Word Endings (e.g., “ing”, “es”, “s”)
This is referred to as “stemming” documents. We stem documents so that a word will be recognizable to the computer, whether or not it has a variety of possible endings in the original text. We use the package {SnowballC} for stemming.
dirCorpusDict <- dirCorpus # create a copy
fileCorpusDict <- fileCorpus # create a copy
tweetCorpusDict <- tweetCorpus # create a copy
dirCorpus <- tm_map(dirCorpus, stemDocument)
fileCorpus <- tm_map(fileCorpus, stemDocument)
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, stemDocument)Stripping Unnecesary Whitespace from your Documents:
The above preprocessing will leave the documents with a lot of “white space”. White space is the result of all the left over spaces that were not removed along with the words that were deleted. The white space can, and should, be removed.
dirCorpus <- tm_map(dirCorpus, stripWhitespace)
fileCorpus <- tm_map(fileCorpus, stripWhitespace)
tweetCorpus <- tm_map(tweetCorpus, stripWhitespace)
dirCorpusDict <- tm_map(dirCorpusDict, stripWhitespace)
fileCorpusDict <- tm_map(fileCorpusDict, stripWhitespace)
tweetCorpusDict <- tm_map(tweetCorpusDict, stripWhitespace)Optional: Stem Completion
The following code will allow you to complete stemmed words with the most common version of the word appearing in the original corpus. If this runs too slowly (as it will for large documents) then skip this step!
completeStem <- function(x, dictionary) {
x <- unlist(strsplit(as.character(x), " "))
x <- x[x != ""]
x <- stemCompletion(x, dictionary = dictionary, type = "prevalent")
x <- paste(x, sep = "", collapse = " ")
PlainTextDocument(stripWhitespace(x))
}
dirCorpus <- lapply(dirCorpus, completeStem, dictionary = dirCorpusDict)
dirCorpus <- Corpus(VectorSource(dirCorpus))
fileCorpus <- lapply(fileCorpus, completeStem, dictionary = fileCorpusDict)
fileCorpus <- Corpus(VectorSource(fileCorpus))
tweetCorpus <- lapply(tweetCorpus, completeStem, dictionary = tweetCorpusDict)
tweetCorpus <- Corpus(VectorSource(tweetCorpus))Quantitative Text Analysis
Our next step is to create a document-term matrix. This is simply a matrix with documents as the rows, terms as the columns, and a count of the frequency of terms in each document as the cells of the matrix.
dirCorpusDTM <- DocumentTermMatrix(dirCorpus)
fileCorpusDTM <- DocumentTermMatrix(fileCorpus)
tweetCorpusDTM <- DocumentTermMatrix(tweetCorpus)
dirCorpusDTM## <<DocumentTermMatrix (documents: 3, terms: 14806)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 22214/22204
## Sparsity : 50%
## Maximal term length: 67
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)dim(dirCorpusDTM)## [1] 3 14806inspect(dirCorpusDTM[1:3, 1:25]) # shows counts in each of the 3 documents of the first 25 words## <<DocumentTermMatrix (documents: 3, terms: 25)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 63/12
## Sparsity : 16%
## Maximal term length: 12
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)
## Sample :
## Terms
## Docs abl abnorm aborigin abound abrupt absenc absent absolut abstract
## 1 34 12 29 5 13 24 5 33 8
## 2 53 12 19 3 7 14 14 11 11
## 3 48 2 23 20 22 26 7 37 2
## Terms
## Docs abund
## 1 9
## 2 4
## 3 72fileCorpusDTM## <<DocumentTermMatrix (documents: 8, terms: 12739)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 31896/70016
## Sparsity : 69%
## Maximal term length: 32
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)dim(fileCorpusDTM)## [1] 8 12739inspect(fileCorpusDTM[1:7, 1:25]) # shows counts in each of the 7 documents of the first 25 words## <<DocumentTermMatrix (documents: 7, terms: 25)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 141/34
## Sparsity : 19%
## Maximal term length: 10
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)
## Sample :
## Terms
## Docs abil abl absenc absent absolut accept accommod accompani accomplish
## 1 3 30 9 5 8 15 12 3 9
## 2 3 35 15 7 8 9 4 12 5
## 3 5 68 33 24 32 52 4 7 15
## 4 11 77 20 12 48 45 11 14 20
## 5 1 12 4 1 1 11 0 12 4
## 6 6 54 27 4 21 47 0 11 20
## 7 12 46 10 3 13 29 13 6 4
## Terms
## Docs accord
## 1 8
## 2 8
## 3 19
## 4 15
## 5 5
## 6 14
## 7 6tweetCorpusDTM## <<DocumentTermMatrix (documents: 267, terms: 1240)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 3007/328073
## Sparsity : 99%
## Maximal term length: 22
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)dim(tweetCorpusDTM)## [1] 267 1240Many of the cells in these matrices will be zero (i.e., if a particular term doesn’t appear in a particular document).
We also can get the transpose of this matrix, a term-document matrix, which is created it using TermDocumentMatrix(). Here, terms are row, documents are columns, and cells contain counts of how often a term appears in each document.
dirCorpusTDM <- TermDocumentMatrix(dirCorpus)
fileCorpusTDM <- TermDocumentMatrix(fileCorpus)
tweetCorpusTDM <- TermDocumentMatrix(tweetCorpus)
dirCorpusTDM## <<TermDocumentMatrix (terms: 14806, documents: 3)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 22214/22204
## Sparsity : 50%
## Maximal term length: 67
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)dim(dirCorpusTDM)## [1] 14806 3inspect(dirCorpusTDM[1:25, 1:3]) # shows counts of the first 25 words in each of the three documents## <<TermDocumentMatrix (terms: 25, documents: 3)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 63/12
## Sparsity : 16%
## Maximal term length: 12
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)
## Sample :
## Docs
## Terms 1 2 3
## abl 34 53 48
## abnorm 12 12 2
## aborigin 29 19 23
## abound 5 3 20
## abrupt 13 7 22
## absenc 24 14 26
## absent 5 14 7
## absolut 33 11 37
## abstract 8 11 2
## abund 9 4 72fileCorpusTDM## <<TermDocumentMatrix (terms: 12739, documents: 8)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 31896/70016
## Sparsity : 69%
## Maximal term length: 32
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)dim(fileCorpusTDM)## [1] 12739 8inspect(fileCorpusTDM[1:25, 1:7]) # shows counts of the first 25 words in each of the seven documents## <<TermDocumentMatrix (terms: 25, documents: 7)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 141/34
## Sparsity : 19%
## Maximal term length: 10
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)
## Sample :
## Docs
## Terms 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
## abil 3 3 5 11 1 6 12
## abl 30 35 68 77 12 54 46
## absenc 9 15 33 20 4 27 10
## absent 5 7 24 12 1 4 3
## absolut 8 8 32 48 1 21 13
## accept 15 9 52 45 11 47 29
## accommod 12 4 4 11 0 0 13
## accompani 3 12 7 14 12 11 6
## accomplish 9 5 15 20 4 20 4
## accord 8 8 19 15 5 14 6tweetCorpusTDM## <<TermDocumentMatrix (terms: 1240, documents: 267)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 3007/328073
## Sparsity : 99%
## Maximal term length: 22
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)dim(tweetCorpusTDM)## [1] 1240 267We can easily remove “sparse terms”, or those that do not appear in a certain proportion of our documents.
dirCorpusDTM <- removeSparseTerms(dirCorpusDTM, 0.4) # only terms that appear in at least 40% of the documents will be retained
fileCorpusDTM <- removeSparseTerms(fileCorpusDTM, 0.7) # only terms that appear in at least 70% of the documents will be retained
dirCorpusTDM <- removeSparseTerms(dirCorpusTDM, 0.4)
fileCorpusTDM <- removeSparseTerms(fileCorpusTDM, 0.7)
inspect(dirCorpusTDM[1:25, 1:3])## <<TermDocumentMatrix (terms: 25, documents: 3)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 69/6
## Sparsity : 8%
## Maximal term length: 9
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)
## Sample :
## Docs
## Terms 1 2 3
## abl 34 53 48
## abnorm 12 12 2
## aborigin 29 19 23
## abound 5 3 20
## abrupt 13 7 22
## absenc 24 14 26
## absolut 33 11 37
## abund 9 4 72
## accept 6 18 12
## access 13 12 13inspect(fileCorpusTDM[1:25, 1:7])## <<TermDocumentMatrix (terms: 25, documents: 7)>>
## Non-/sparse entries: 154/21
## Sparsity : 12%
## Maximal term length: 10
## Weighting : term frequency (tf)
## Sample :
## Docs
## Terms 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
## abl 30 35 68 77 12 54 46
## absenc 9 15 33 20 4 27 10
## absent 5 7 24 12 1 4 3
## absolut 8 8 32 48 1 21 13
## accept 15 9 52 45 11 47 29
## accommod 12 4 4 11 0 0 13
## accompani 3 12 7 14 12 11 6
## accomplish 9 5 15 20 4 20 4
## accord 8 8 19 15 5 14 6
## account 42 39 54 74 16 46 49Visualizing Data - Organizing Terms by Frequency
We can get the frequencies with which different terms appear across the set of documents as a vector by converting the document term matrix into a matrix and then summing the column counts.
dirCorpusFreq <- colSums(as.matrix(dirCorpusDTM))
dirCorpusFreq <- sort(dirCorpusFreq, decreasing = TRUE)
dirCorpusDF <- data.frame(word = names(dirCorpusFreq), freq = dirCorpusFreq)
rownames(dirCorpusDF) <- NULL
head(dirCorpusDF)## word freq
## 1 speci 2254
## 2 one 2245
## 3 differ 1375
## 4 will 1225
## 5 may 1200
## 6 mani 1185fileCorpusFreq <- colSums(as.matrix(fileCorpusDTM))
fileCorpusFreq <- sort(fileCorpusFreq, decreasing = TRUE)
fileCorpusDF <- data.frame(word = names(fileCorpusFreq), freq = fileCorpusFreq)
rownames(fileCorpusDF) <- NULL
head(fileCorpusDF)## word freq
## 1 mrs 2515
## 2 will 2504
## 3 must 2239
## 4 said 2156
## 5 one 2049
## 6 much 2026tweetCorpusFreq <- colSums(as.matrix(tweetCorpusDTM))
tweetCorpusFreq <- sort(tweetCorpusFreq, decreasing = TRUE)
tweetCorpusDF <- data.frame(word = names(tweetCorpusFreq), freq = tweetCorpusFreq)
rownames(tweetCorpusDF) <- NULL
head(tweetCorpusDF)## word freq
## 1 american 46
## 2 can 33
## 3 year 32
## 4 today 29
## 5 thank 22
## 6 america 22# plotting the most common words: Darwin's books
library(ggplot2)##
## Attaching package: 'ggplot2'## The following object is masked from 'package:NLP':
##
## annotatep <- ggplot(data = dirCorpusDF[1:25, ], aes(x = reorder(word, freq), y = freq)) +
xlab("Word") + ylab("Frequency") + geom_bar(stat = "identity") + coord_flip()
p
# plotting words that occur at least a certain number of times (here, >=
# 1000)
p <- ggplot(subset(dirCorpusDF, freq >= 1000), aes(x = reorder(word, freq),
y = freq)) + xlab("Word") + ylab("Frequency") + geom_bar(stat = "identity") +
coord_flip()
p
# plotting the most common words: Austen's novels
p <- ggplot(data = fileCorpusDF[1:25, ], aes(x = reorder(word, freq), y = freq)) +
xlab("Word") + ylab("Frequency") + geom_bar(stat = "identity") + coord_flip()
p
# plotting words that occur at least a certain number of times (here, >=
# 1000)
p <- ggplot(subset(fileCorpusDF, freq >= 1000), aes(x = reorder(word, freq),
y = freq)) + xlab("Word") + ylab("Frequency") + geom_bar(stat = "identity") +
coord_flip()
p
# an alternative way to find a list of common words and print as a vector
findFreqTerms(fileCorpusDTM, lowfreq = 1000)## [1] "can" "come" "day" "even" "everi" "feel" "first"
## [8] "friend" "good" "great" "know" "ladi" "like" "littl"
## [15] "look" "make" "may" "might" "miss" "mrs" "much"
## [22] "must" "never" "noth" "now" "one" "quit" "said"
## [29] "say" "see" "sister" "soon" "thing" "think" "though"
## [36] "thought" "time" "well" "will" "wish" "without"# we can also find the correlations between words, a measure of how often
# they co-occur across documents
findAssocs(fileCorpusDTM, terms = c("pride", "anger"), corlimit = 0.9)## $pride
## diningroom gentlemen proud boast unless
## 0.97 0.97 0.97 0.96 0.96
## abomin chose guard river defi
## 0.95 0.95 0.95 0.95 0.94
## disdain master meat reject resign
## 0.94 0.94 0.94 0.94 0.94
## sole characterist implicit personag pool
## 0.94 0.93 0.93 0.93 0.93
## prone trespass unfelt contain imit
## 0.93 0.93 0.93 0.92 0.92
## lake offic plead quest reprehens
## 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92
## studi visibl vouch allud anyon
## 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.91 0.91
## applic decenc invalu likelihood overflow
## 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91
## saturday wil repres patro
## 0.91 0.91 0.90 0.90
##
## $anger
## absenc aris dwelt acut approach ball
## 0.99 0.98 0.98 0.97 0.97 0.97
## bitter teteatet vexat denial chiefli difficult
## 0.97 0.97 0.96 0.96 0.95 0.95
## impos lawn scarc unfavour appli began
## 0.95 0.95 0.95 0.95 0.94 0.94
## church cloth felic reliev shame solemn
## 0.94 0.94 0.94 0.94 0.94 0.94
## taught thither triumph grievous attack consist
## 0.94 0.94 0.94 0.94 0.93 0.93
## credit discuss import light occas purpos
## 0.93 0.93 0.93 0.93 0.93 0.93
## stupid unsettl went displeasur objection score
## 0.93 0.93 0.93 0.93 0.93 0.93
## accord address angri chief choic dwell
## 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92
## express handsomest inquir parish success tabl
## 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92
## vex write profus slave weigh breast
## 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92
## niec scarlet selfconsequ whist accept consol
## 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.92 0.91 0.91
## dictat dignifi famili girl gratifi honour
## 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91
## imposs inclin individu intend neglect object
## 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91
## occasion part step subject teach troubl
## 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91 0.91
## trust upstair drawingroom fruit gate second
## 0.91 0.91 0.90 0.90 0.90 0.90
## steadi awok dismay emphasi sparkl unfrequ
## 0.90 0.90 0.90 0.90 0.90 0.90
## unsuccess verdur
## 0.90 0.90Visualizing Data - Plotting Correlations and Clustering Among Terms and Among Documents
Let’s hearken back to a better time for Presidential tweeting and plot the correlations among terms in Barak Obama’s tweets. We limit ourselves to terms that appear in at least 11 tweets and where we only show terms with a correlation of at least 0.10 across tweets.
library(Rgraphviz)## Loading required package: graph## Loading required package: BiocGenerics## Loading required package: parallel##
## Attaching package: 'BiocGenerics'## The following objects are masked from 'package:parallel':
##
## clusterApply, clusterApplyLB, clusterCall, clusterEvalQ,
## clusterExport, clusterMap, parApply, parCapply, parLapply,
## parLapplyLB, parRapply, parSapply, parSapplyLB## The following objects are masked from 'package:stats':
##
## IQR, mad, sd, var, xtabs## The following objects are masked from 'package:base':
##
## anyDuplicated, append, as.data.frame, cbind, colMeans,
## colnames, colSums, do.call, duplicated, eval, evalq, Filter,
## Find, get, grep, grepl, intersect, is.unsorted, lapply,
## lengths, Map, mapply, match, mget, order, paste, pmax,
## pmax.int, pmin, pmin.int, Position, rank, rbind, Reduce,
## rowMeans, rownames, rowSums, sapply, setdiff, sort, table,
## tapply, union, unique, unsplit, which, which.max, which.min##
## Attaching package: 'graph'## The following object is masked from 'package:stringr':
##
## boundary## Loading required package: gridattrs = list(node = list(fillcolor = "yellow", fontsize = "30"), edge = list(),
graph = list())
plot(tweetCorpusDTM, terms = findFreqTerms(tweetCorpusDTM, lowfreq = 11), attrs = attrs,
corThreshold = 0.1)
dev.off() # clears the plot window for next plot## null device
## 1To visualize hierarchal clustering of documents in terms of similar term use, we first calculate distances between them and cluster them according to similarity. Let’s do this with Jane Austen’s novels. We use the {dendextend} package to print our dendrogram.
library(cluster)
fileDocDist <- dist(scale(fileCorpusDTM), method = "euclidian")
fitDoc <- hclust(fileDocDist, method = "ward.D2")
library(dendextend)##
## ---------------------
## Welcome to dendextend version 1.6.0
## Type citation('dendextend') for how to cite the package.
##
## Type browseVignettes(package = 'dendextend') for the package vignette.
## The github page is: https://github.com/talgalili/dendextend/
##
## Suggestions and bug-reports can be submitted at: https://github.com/talgalili/dendextend/issues
## Or contact: <tal.galili@gmail.com>
##
## To suppress this message use: suppressPackageStartupMessages(library(dendextend))
## ---------------------##
## Attaching package: 'dendextend'## The following object is masked from 'package:stats':
##
## cutreedend <- as.dendrogram(fitDoc) # similarity among DOCUMENTS
dend <- rotate(dend, 1:length(fitDoc$labels))
dend <- color_branches(dend, k = 3)
dend <- set(dend, "labels_cex", 1)
dend <- hang.dendrogram(dend, hang_height = 0.1)
plot(dend, horiz = TRUE, main = "Similarity among Jane Austen Novels in Term Use")
dev.off() # clears the plot window for next plot## null device
## 1To visualize hierarchal clustering of terms in terms of their use across documents, we similarly calculate distances between them and cluster them according to similarity. Below, we regenerate the TDM for President Obama’s tweets limiting ourselves to terms that appear in at least 11 tweets.
tweetCorpusTDM <- TermDocumentMatrix(tweetCorpus, control = list(bounds = list(global = c(11,
Inf))))
tweetTermDist <- dist(scale(tweetCorpusTDM), method = "euclidian")
fitTerm <- hclust(tweetTermDist, method = "ward.D2")
dend <- as.dendrogram(fitTerm) # similarity among TERMS
dend <- rotate(dend, 1:length(fitTerm$labels))
dend <- color_branches(dend, k = 5)
dend <- set(dend, "labels_cex", 1)
dend <- hang.dendrogram(dend, hang_height = 1)
plot(dend, horiz = TRUE, main = "Similarity in Term Use Across Obama Tweets")
dev.off() # clears the plot window for next plot## null device
## 1Visualizing Data - Word Clouds
library(wordcloud)## Loading required package: RColorBrewer# for Darwin's books
set.seed(1)
wordcloud(dirCorpusDF$word, dirCorpusDF$freq, min.freq = 500)
set.seed(1)
wordcloud(dirCorpusDF$word, dirCorpusDF$freq, max.words = 100, rot.per = 0.2,
colors = brewer.pal(6, "Accent"))
# for Austen's novels
set.seed(1)
wordcloud(fileCorpusDF$word, fileCorpusDF$freq, min.freq = 500)
set.seed(1)
wordcloud(fileCorpusDF$word, fileCorpusDF$freq, max.words = 100, rot.per = 0.2,
colors = brewer.pal(6, "Accent"))
# for Obama's tweets
set.seed(1)
wordcloud(tweetCorpusDF$word, tweetCorpusDF$freq, min.freq = 500)