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Science from an Easy Chair

Science from an Easy Chair. Second Series

From an Easy Chair

Extinct Animals

The Kingdom of Man

AT this time of stress and anxiety we all, howeversteadfast in giving our service to the great task inwhich our country is engaged, must, from time to time,seek intervals of release from the torrent of thoughtswhich is set going by the tremendous fact that we arefighting for our existence. To very many relief comesin splendid self-sacrificing action, in the joyful exerciseof youthful strength and vigour for a noble cause. Buteven these, as well as those who are less fortunate, needintervals of diversion—brief change of thought and mentaloccupation—after which they may return to their greatduties rested and refreshed.

I know that there are many who find a never-failingsource of happiness in acquaintance with things belongingto that vast area of Nature which is beyond and apartfrom human misery, an area unseen and unsuspected bymost of us and yet teeming with things of exquisitebeauty; an area capable of yielding to man knowledgeof inestimable value. Many are apt to think thatthe value of "Science" is to be measured mainly, ifnot exclusively, by the actual power which it has[Pg vi]conferred on man—mechanical and electrical devices,explosives, life-saving control over disease. They wouldsay of Science, as the ignoble proverb tells us of Honesty,that it is "the best policy." But Honesty is far morethan that, and so is Science. Science has revealed toman his own origin and history, and his place in thisworld of un-ending marvels and beauty. It has givenhim a new and unassailable outlook on all things bothgreat and small. Science commends itself to us as doesHonesty and as does great Art and all fine thought anddeed—not as a policy yielding material profits, butbecause it satisfies man's soul.

I offer these chapters to the reader as possibly affordingto him, as their revision has to me, a welcomeescape, when health demands it, from the immense andinexorable obsession of warfare. The several chaptershave been selected from articles entitled "Science froman Easy Chair" written in recent years by me for the"Daily Telegraph." Under that title I have already publishedtwo volumes of similar selections. I have chosena new title, "Diversions of a Naturalist," for this thirdvolume in order to avoid confusion with the earlier ones.Illustrative drawings have been introduced into severalof the articles and a few alterations made in the text.But they remain essentially what their origin implies—namely,detached essays addressed to a wide public.

I wish to thank my friend Dr. Smith Woodward ofthe Natural History Museum for the figures 23, 25, 26,[Pg vii]27, 28, 29, and 30, illustrating Chapter X, and also tothank Messrs. Veitch for the use of figures 33, 34, 35, 40,and 42. I have copied figures 4 to 8, 11, 19, and 20from the drawings made by Philip Henry Gosse, F.R.S.,and published by him in that wonderful little book "MarineZoology," now long out of print. I have also borrowedmy frontispiece from the book on "The Aquarium" bythat great naturalist and lover of the seashore. Manybeautiful coloured plates of marine animals executed byhis skilful hand are to be found in that and other workspublished by him.

CHAPTER I

ON A NORWEGIAN FIORD

THE splendour of our Sussex Weald, with its shadyforests and lovely gardens, around which rise themajestic Downs sweeping in long graceful curves markedby the history of our race, has charmed me during thesesunny days of June. The orchids, the water-lilies, theengaging and quaintly named "petty whin," and the pinkrattle are joined with the tall foxgloves and elder-blossomsin my memory. And for some reason—perhaps it is theheat—I am set thinking of very different scenes—thegreat, cool fiords of Norway, with their rocky islets andhuge, bare mountain-tops, where many years ago I hadthe "time of my life" in exploring with the naturalist'sdredge the coral-grown sea-bottom 1000 and even 2000feet in a straight line below the little boat in which Iand my companion and three Norwegian boatmen floatedon the dark purple waves.

To let a dredge—an oblong iron frame some threefeet long, to the edges of which a bag of strong nettingis laced, whilst the frame is hung to a rope by a mysticaltriangle—sink from the side of a boat and scrape the[Pg 2]surface of the ocean-floor far below for some ten ortwenty minutes, and then to haul it up again and seewhat living wonders the unseen world has sent you, is,in my opinion, the most exciting and delightful sport inwhich a naturalist can indulge. There are difficulties anddrawbacks connected with it. You cannot, in a smallboat and without expenditure of large sums on a steamyacht and crew, reach from our coast—with rare exceptionsin the north-west—with a fair prospect of returningin safety, those waters which are 100 fathoms deep. Andit is precisely in such depths that the most interesting"hauls" are to be expected. I had had in former daysto be content with 10 fathoms in the North Sea and30 to 40 off the Channel Islands.

Then there is the question of sea-sickness. Nothing isso favourable to that diversion as slowly towing a dredge.I used to take the chance of being ill, and often sufferedthat for which no other joy than the hauling in of arich dredgeful of rare sea creatures could possibly compensate,or induce me to take the risk (as I did againand again). I remember lying very ill on the deck of aslowly lurching "lugger" in a heaving sea off Guernsey,when the dredge came up, and as its contents were turnedout near me, a semi-transparent, oblong, flattened thinglike a small paper-knife began to hop about on the boards.It was the first specimen I ever saw alive of the "lancelet"(Amphioxus), that strange, fish-like little creature, thelowest of vertebrates. I recognized him and immediatelyfelt restored to well-being, seized the young stranger, andplaced him in a special glass jar of clear sea-water. Afew years later the fishermen at Naples would bring me,without any trouble to myself, twenty or more any dayof the week ("cimbarella" they called them), and I notonly have helped to make out the cimbarella's anatomy,[Pg 3]but also to discover the history of the extraordinarychanges it undergoes as it grows from the egg. Isent my pupil Dr. Willey, now professor in Montreal,one summer to a nearly closed sea-lake, the "pantano"of Faro, near Messina, where the lancelet breeds. Hebrought home hundreds of minute young in variousstages, and again later made a second visit to thatremote sea-lake in order to complete our knowledge oftheir growth and structure by observation on the spot.

The advantage of the Norwegian fiords for anaturalist who loves to "dredge" is that at many partsof the coast you can sail into water of 200 fathomsdepth and more, within three minutes from the rockyshore; and, secondly, that the great passage betweenthe islands and the mainland is, to a very large extent,protected from those movements of the surface whichcause such torture to many innocent people who ventureon the sea in boats! Accordingly, in 1882, when Iheard from the greatest naturalist-dredger of his day—theRev. Canon Norman, of Durham—that he knew afarmhouse at Lervik, on the island of Stordö, near themouth of the Hardanger Fiord, between Bergen andStavanger—where one could stay, and where a boatcould be hired for a couple of months—I determined togo there. I was confirmed in my purpose by the factthat Canon Norman had obtained in his dredge, at aspot near Lervik, which he marked for me on the large-scaleofficial map of the region, a very curious littlepolyp-like animal, attached to and branching on thestems of the white coral which one dredges there at thedepth of 150 fathoms. The little animal in quest ofwhich I went, though other wonderful things were to beexpected also, had been dredged originally by Dr.Norman off the Shetland Islands, and described by[Pg 4]Professor Allman, of Edinburgh. But they had notexamined it in the living state with the microscope, andthough they showed that it was quite unlike otherpolyps, yet there was obvious need for further examinationof it. I hoped to obtain its eggs and to watch itsearly growth. The name given to it by Allman was"Rhabdopleura," meaning "rod-walled," alluding to arod-like cord which runs along the inside of the delicatebranching tube (only the one-twentieth of an inch wide),which the little animal constructs and inhabits.

I sent a chest containing glass jars, microscopes,books, chemicals, etc., and my dredge, as well as a largewindlass, on which was coiled 600 fathoms of rope, bysea to Lervik, and started in early July, with myassistant, Dr. Bourne (afterwards Director of Educationin the Madras Presidency), overland, via Copenhagen,for Christiania. Thence we drove in "carioles" acrossNorway to Laerdalsören, on the west coast, makingacquaintance with the magnificent waters—rivers, lakes,and cascades—of that pine-grown land. After visitingthe Naerodal and the glaciers which descend from themountains into the sea on the Fjaerlands Fiord, we tooksteamer to Lervik, and were welcomed at our farmhouseby its owner, the sister of the member of Parliament forthe surrounding region (about four times the area ofYorkshire), whose son secured for me a fair-sized sailingboat, and with two other men of Lervik engaged as mycrew for six weeks.

After a day or two we had everything in order, andat seven o'clock one morning sailed out of the harbourto make our first cast of the dredge. The mouth of theharbour of Lervik is 40 fathoms deep, and the greatnorth-bound steamers enter it and come alongside the[Pg 5]
[Pg 6]rocks on which the village stands. Outside the harbourthe depth increases precipitously to 200 fathoms. Wesailed about 10 miles along the fiord, and determinedprecisely the spot indicated by Dr. Norman on the map,and here we lowered our dredge. We had fixed aroundthe mouth of the dredge long tassels of hemp fibre, sinceon rocky ground, such as we were now dredging, onecannot expect much to be "scooped up" by the slowlytravelling dredge as it passes over the bottom, whilst thethreads of the hemp, on the contrary, entangle and holdall sorts of objects with which they come into contact.We were 1000 feet from the bottom, and our dredgetook a good five minutes to sink as we paid out the ropefrom the winch in the stern of our boat. When itreached the bottom we let out another 2000 feet of rope,and then very slowly towed the dredge for about aquarter of an hour. Then the laborious task commencedof winding it up again, two men turning the handles ofthe winch for a quarter of an hour. At last the dredgecould be seen through the clear water, and soon was atthe surface and lifted into the boat. The hempentangles were crowded with masses of living and deadwhite coral (Fig. 3), star-fishes, worms, and bits of stonecovered with brilliant-coloured sponges, Terebratulæ (adeep-water, peculiar shellfish, the lamp-shell), and otheranimals. There were only a few fragments of coral inthe bag of the dredge.

We filled glass jars with sea water and placed thebits of coral in them, and I eagerly examined them forthe creeper-like "Rhabdopleura." There, sure enough,it was on several of the dead stems of coral, and wesailed back to Lervik with our booty in order to examineit at leisure with the microscope whilst still fresh andliving. In our temporary laboratory at the farmhouse[Pg 7]
[Pg 8]the little polyp which it had been my chief object tostudy, issued slowly from its delicate tubes when placedin a shallow trough of sea-water beneath the microscope.I was able on that day, and many others subsequently—withrenewed supplies from the depths of the fiord—tomake coloured drawings of it, and to find out a great dealof interest to zoologists about its structure. The minutething (Fig. 2) was spotted with orange and black like aleopard, and had a plume of tentacles on each side of itsmouth, which was overhung by a mobile disk—the organby means of which it creeps slowly out of its tube, andalso by which the transparent rings which form the tubeare secreted and added one by one to the tube's mouth,so as to increase its length. The creature within the tree-likebranching system of tubes (Fig. 1) is also tree-like andbranching, fifty or more polyp-like individuals terminatingits branches and issuing each from one of the upstandingterminal branches of the tube system. I was able todetermine the "law" of its budding and branching, andI also found the testis full of spermatozoa in several ofthe polyps, but I failed to find eggs. I believe that wewere too late in the season for them; and they are stillunknown.

One of the most interesting deep-sea creatures discoveredby the "Challenger" proved to be closely alliedto our little Rhabdopleura, and received the name"Cephalodiscus." Several species of this second kindhave been discovered in the last twenty years in thedeep sea, and the largest and most remarkable in somerespects was one which "jumped to my eyes" amongthe booty of marine dredgings sent home from theAntarctic expedition of the "Discovery" by CaptainScott, when I unpacked the cases containing thesemarine treasures, in the basement of the Natural History[Pg 9]
[Pg 10]Museum. I published a photograph of it in the "Proceedingsof the Royal Society," and named it "Cephalodiscusnigrescens." But nothing more of importance has, asyet, been brought to light as to "Rhabdopleura."

Our rule at Lervik was to go out dredging fromseven to twelve, and work at the material with microscopeand pencil for some three or four hours after lunch.Of all the many beautiful things we dredged, the moststriking were the various kinds of corals, the large, glass-likeshrimps, the strange apple-green worm Hamingia(actually known previously by two specimens only),and the large, disc-like and branched, sand-covered orsausage-like Protozoa (from a shelly bottom of 200fathoms depth). My friend Dr. Norman joined me atLervik after I had been there for a month, and showedhis extraordinary skill in choosing the most favourablespots for sinking the dredge and in pouncing oninteresting specimens as we sorted the contents of thedredge (when we had been on a soft bottom) bypassing them through the sieves, specially providedfor naturalists' use, as we gently rocked on the darksurface of the clear, deep water, many miles from ourisland. The colours and light of that region arewonderful—the mountains of a yellow tint, far palerthan the purple sea, whilst the rocky islands are fringedwith seaweed of rich orange-brown colour, and clothedwith grass and innumerable flowers.

The white coral of two kinds (Lophohelia andAmphihelia) is accompanied by beautiful purple andsalmon-coloured softer kinds of coral (Alcyonarians),known as Primnoa, and by the gigantic Paragorgia.On one occasion our dredge became fast. For longnothing would move it, and we feared we should have[Pg 11]to cut it and lose some 300 fathoms of rope. At lastthe efforts of four men at the oars set it free, and wewound it in. As the dredge came up we found entangledin the rope an enormous tree-like growth, asthick as a man's arm, seven feet long, and spreadingout into branches, the whole of a pale vermilion colour(like pink lacquer)—a magnificent sight! It was abranch of the great tree-coral of these waters—the Paragorgia—andwe preserved many pieces of it in alcoholand dried the rest. But the gorgeous colour could notbe retained.

One day the green worm, Hamingia (named after aNorwegian hero—Haming) was dredged by us at themouth of Lervik Harbour, in 40 fathoms. A somewhatsimilar worm lives in holes in the limestone rocksof the Mediterranean, and is named Bonellia (after theItalian naturalist, Bonelli). All the specimens of thisMediterranean worm, which is as large as a big walnut,and has a trunk, or proboscis, a foot long, were found tobe females. The male was unknown until my friend thelate Alexander Kowalewsky, the most remarkable ofRussian zoologists, discovered that it is a tiny threadlikegreen creature, no bigger than the letter "i" on thispage. Three or four are found crawling about on thebody of the large female. I found the same diminutivekind of male crawling on my Norwegian Hamingia, atLervik, and published a drawing and description ofhim. I was also able to show that, unlike Bonellia, theNorwegian worm has red blood-corpuscles, like those ofa frog, and impregnated with hæmoglobin, the sameoxygen-carrying substance which colours our own blood-corpuscles.The identity of the worm's hæmoglobinwith that in our own blood was proved by its causingtwo dark bands of absorption in the solar spectrum[Pg 12]when light was passed through it and then through thespectroscope—dark bands exactly the same in positionand intensity as those caused by the red substance ofmy own blood and changing into one single band intermediatein position between the two—when deprived byan appropriate chemical of the oxygen loosely combinedwith it.

Of many other things we caught and many otherdelights of that long-past summer on the Norwegianfiords, of the great waterfalls, the vast forests, thedelightful swimming in the sea, the trout-fishing, andthe very trying food approved and provided for us bythe natives, I must not now tell. My hope is thatI may have enabled my readers to understand some ofthe enjoyment open to the marine zoologist, even whenhe dispenses with the aid of a big steamship, andmodestly pursues his quarry in a sportsmanlike spirit.

ONE of the new features of modern life—the resultof the enormous development of the newspaperpress and the vast increase in numbers of those whoread and think in common—is the development of asensitive "self-consciousness" of the community, a moreor less successful effort to know its own history, to valuethe records of the past, and to question its own hithertounconscious, unreflecting attitude in mechanically and asit were blindly destroying everything which gets in theway of that industrial and commercial activity which isregarded, erroneously, as identical with "progress."Beautiful old houses and strange buildings—pricelessrecords of the ways and thought of our early ancestors—-whichat one time were either guarded by superstitiousreverence or let alone because there was roomfor them and for everything else in the spacious countryside—-havebeen thoughtlessly pulled down as populationand grasping enterprise increased. The really gracefulold houses of London and other towns, lovingly producedby former men who were true artists, have been brokenup and their panelling and chimney-pieces sold to foreignersin order to make way for more commodiousbuildings, hideous in their ignorant decoration, or brutally"run up," gaunt, bare, and mis-shapen. The stones ofAvebury, of Stonehenge, and of many another temple[Pg 14]have been knocked to pieces by emancipated country-folk—nolonger restrained either by superstition or byreverence—to mend roads and to make enclosures.

Happily the new self-consciousness is taking note ofthese things. That strange lumbering body which wecall "the mother of parliaments" has dimly reflected thebetter thought of the community, and given a feeble sortof protection to ancient monuments. The newspapershave lately managed to excite some public interest in afine old house in Dean Street, Soho, and to arouse afeeling of shame that the richest city in the richestEmpire of the world should allow the few remnants ofbeautiful things of the past still existing in its midst tobe destroyed by the uncontrolled operation of mercenary"progress." I have, in common with many others,visited this doomed mansion. It is a charming oldplace, of no great size or importance, and, with its well-proportionedpanelled rooms and fine staircase, wasdestined to be a private residence. It is not largeenough to be a museum, but its rooms might serve forthe show place of a first-rate maker or vender of thingsof fine workmanship. There ought to be some publicauthority—municipal or departmental—with power toacquire such interesting houses as this, not necessarilyto convert them into permanent public shows, but tokeep them in repair, and to let them on lease, at areasonable rent, to tenants, subject to the condition oftheir being open on certain days in the year to artistsand others provided with orders of admission by theauthority. In other countries such arrangements aremade; with us they are not made simply because wehave not assigned to any authority the duty of actingin this way for the public benefit. Our public authoritieshave little or no public spirit, and resemble private com[Pg 15]mittees,councils, and individuals in evading and refusingeven the smallest increase of responsibility and activitybeyond that which they are compelled by law to discharge.Unless they are legally compelled to interfere,all records of art and nature may perish before theywill incur the inconvenience of moving a finger! Consequentlythe only thing to be done is to assign suchduties by law to an existing authority, or to one createdfor such purposes.

The same tale of destruction and irreparable damagehas to be told of our dealings with the beauty of onceunsullied moorland, meadow, marsh, forest, river-bank,and seashore. But the destruction has here been moregradual, less obvious on account of remoteness, and moresubtle in its creeping, insinuating method, like that of aslowly-spreading infective disease. The word "country"has to a very large extent ceased to signify to us "outlyingnature beyond the man-made town," occupied onlyin little tracts here and there by the immemorial tillersof the soil. The splendid and age-long industry of ourfield-workers has made much of our land a garden. Nowthey themselves are disappearing or changed beyond recognition,losing their traditional arts and crafts, theirdistinctive and venerable dialects, and their individuality.The land is enclosed, drained, manured; food plantsproduced by the agriculturist replace the native plants;forests are cut down and converted into parks andpheasant-runs; foreign trees are substituted for thosenative to the soil. Commons, heaths, and wild moorlandshave been enclosed by eager land-grabbers, thestreams are polluted by mining or chemical works, or ifkept clean are artificially overstocked with hand-fedtrout; whilst the open roads reek of tar and petroleum.The "wilderness" is fast disappearing, and it is by this[Pg 16]name that we must distinguish from the mere "country,"as much besmirched and devastated by man as are thesites of his towns and cities, the regions where untouchednature still survives and is free from the depredations ofhumanity. Many beautiful and rare plants which onceinhabited our countryside have perished; many largeranimals (such as wolf, beaver, red-deer, marten-cats, andwild-cats) have disappeared, as well as many insects,great and small, such as the swallow-tailed butterfly andthe larger copper butterfly, and many splendid birds.

Here and there in these islands are to be found bitsof "wilderness" where some of the ancient life—now sorapidly being destroyed—still flourishes. There aresome coast-side marshes, there are East Anglian fens,some open heath-land, and some bits of forest which areyet unspoilt, unravaged by blighting, reckless humanity.It is a distressing fact that some of the recent officialattempts to preserve open forest land and commons forthe public enjoyment have been accompanied by amistaken attempt to drain them, and lay them outwith gravel walks, to the complete destruction of theirnatural beauty and interest. The bog above the Legof Mutton Pond, on Hampstead Heath, where I usedto visit, years ago, the bog-bean and the sun-dew,and many a moss-grown pool swarming with rareanimalcules, has been drained by an over-zealous boardof guardians, animated by a suburban enthusiasm forturf and gravel paths. The same spirit, hostile to natureand eager to reduce the wilderness to vulgar conventionality,has tamed the finer parts of Wimbledon Common,and is busy laying down gravel paths in Epping Forest.In the New Forest the clamour of the neighbouringresidents for "sport" has led to the framing of regulationsby the officials of the Crown (it is a "Royal"[Pg 17]forest), which are resulting in the destruction and disappearanceof rare birds which formerly nested there.Many a distant common threatened by the builder hasbeen preserved as an open space by golfers. Suchpreservation is like that of the boards of conservators,useless from the point of view of the nature-lover. Thehealth-seeking crowd spreads devastation around it. Therare sand-loving plants of the dunes, and the "bog-bean,"the "sun-dew," and other refugees from humanpersecution on our once unfrequented heath-lands, areremorselessly trodden down or hacked up by the golfer.Other destroyers of nature's rarer products are thosewho greedily search for them and carry them off, rootand branch, to the last specimen, in order to sell them.These dealers are "collectors," indeed, but must not beconfused with the genuine "naturalist," who may allowhimself, with due modesty, to secure a limited sample oftreasures from nature's open hand.

Under these circumstances a society has been foundedfor the formation of "nature-reserves" in the BritishIslands. Its object is to secure, by purchase or gift,tracts of as yet unsullied wilderness—of which some arestill, though rarely, to be found—where beast and bird,insect and plant are still living as of old—untouched,unmolested, undisturbed by intrusive, murderous man.The society's object is to enter into relations with thosewho may know of such tracts, and to arrange for theirtransference—if of sufficient interest—to the NationalTrust. The expense of proper guardianship and theadmission to the reserve of duly authorized personswould be the business of the society. Its office is at theNatural History Museum in Cromwell Road, and Mr.Ogilvie Grant, the naturalist in charge of the ornithologicalcollections, is one of the secretaries. Sir Edward[Pg 18]Grey and Mr. Lewis Harcourt and several of our mostdistinguished botanists and zoologists are members ofthe council. All who sympathize with the objects ofthe society should write to the secretary for furtherinformation.

Already two tracts of land were secured as nature-reservesbefore the society came into existence. Oneof these is Wickham Fen, not far from Cambridge,renowned for its remarkable plants and insects. It waspurchased and placed in the hands of the NationalTrust by a public-spirited entomologist. Another reserve,which has been secured, is far away on the linksor dunes of the north coast of Norfolk, and is of especialinterest to botanists. No one—either golfer or bungalow-builder—cannow interfere there and destroy the interwovenflora and fauna, the members of which balance andprotect, encourage and check one another, as is Nature'smethod. The interaction of the various species of wildplants in this undisturbed spot is made the subject ofcontinual and careful study by the botanists who arepermitted to frequent it. More such "reserves" and ofdifferent characters are desirable. Should we, of thepresent day, succeed in securing some great marsh-land,one or more rocky headlands or islands, and a goodsweep of Scotch moor and mountain, and in raisingmoney to provide guardians for these acquisitions, weshall not only enjoy them ourselves but be blessed byfuture generations of men for having saved something ofBritain's ancient nature, when all else, which is not city,will have become manure, shooting greens, and pleasuregardens.

In Germany and in Switzerland a good deal hasbeen done in this way. Owing to the existence of[Pg 19]"forestry" and a State Forest Department in Germany—whichhas no representative in this country—there ismachinery for selecting and guarding such "reserves."A large sum is assigned annually by the Governmentto this purpose. Last year an international congress,attended by delegates from the English society, as wellas by representatives of many other States, was held,and much useful discussion as to methods and resultstook place.

The notion of creating a nature-reserve on a smallscale seems to have originated with Charles Waterton,the traveller and naturalist, who in the middle of lastcentury converted the estate surrounding his residencenear Pontefract in Yorkshire into a sort of sanctuary,where he made it a strict rule that no wild thingshould be molested. For some years now the attemptto create "nature-reserves," on a far larger scale thanthose of which I have been writing, has been madewhere civilization is planting its first settlements inprimeval forest and prairie. The United States Government,impressed with the rapid destruction and disappearanceboth of forests and of native animals whichhave accompanied the opening up by road and rail ofvast territories in the West, created in 1872 the national"reserve," called the Yellowstone Park, which is some3300 square miles in area. We are assured that hereunder proper guardianship the larger native animals areincreasing in number; whilst the great coniferous trees,which were in danger of extermination by the whiteman, are safe. Similar reserves have been proclaimedin parts of Africa under British control, but though thatknown as Mount Elgon—an ancient volcanic cup, cladwith forest, and ten miles in diameter—seems to havebeen effective, and to have furnished in Sir Harry[Pg 20]Johnston's time, ten years ago, a refuge for the giraffe,it is scarcely possible, at present, to provide an efficientpolice force to protect areas of something like 1000square miles against the depredations of native andcommercial "hunters" provided with modern rifles.

In May, 1900, I was, with the late Sir ClementHill, appointed "plenipotentiary" by her Majesty QueenVictoria to meet representatives of Germany, France,Spain, Portugal, and the Congo States in a conference,presided over by the late Marquis of Linlithgow, at theForeign Office. The conference was arranged by the greatAfrican powers in order to consider and report on the meansto be taken to preserve the big game animals of Africa fromextinction. We spent an extremely interesting fortnight,and finally agreed upon a report, the upshot of whichwas that whilst certain animals, such as the giraffe, somezebras and antelopes, the gorilla, and such useful birdsas the vultures, secretary bird, owls, and the cow-pickers(Buphagus), should be absolutely protected, others shouldbe only protected at certain seasons, or in youth, or inlimited numbers, and others again should be killed withoutlicence or restraint at any time, such being the lion,the leopard, the hunting-dog, destructive baboons, mostbirds of prey, crocodiles, pythons, and poisonous snakes.The question of large "nature-reserves" was discussed.It was agreed that such reserves should be maintainedfor the breeding-places and rearing of the young ofdesirable animals, and that the destruction of predatoryanimals or an excess of other forms should be permittedto the administrators of such reserves. Thus it is clearthat no absolute "nature-reserves" were consideredpossible.

In fact this is the case whether the reserve be large[Pg 21]or small. Once man is present in the neighbourhood,even at a long distance, he upsets the "balance ofNature." The naturalist's small "nature-reserve" maybe ravaged by predatory animals driven from the outlyingregion occupied by man, or again, the absence fromthe "reserve" of predatory animals which act as naturalchecks on the increase of other animals, may lead toexcessive and unhealthy multiplication of the latter.Man must "weed" and artificially manage his "reserve"after all! Man brings also into the neighbourhood ofreserves, great and small, disease germs in his domesticatedanimals, which are carried by insects into thecherished "reserve," and there cause destruction. Conversely,the animals maintained in a reserve carry intheir blood microscopic parasites to the poisons ofwhich they have become immune by natural selectionin the course of ages. They act as "reservoirs" ofsuch microscopic germs. These germs carried by fliesor other insects to the carefully reared cattle importedby civilized man from other regions of the world into theneighbourhood of such "reserves," cause deadly disease(such as the tsetse-fly diseases or trypanosome diseases)to those imported cattle, as also to man himself. Whilst,then, we may do something to retain small tracts of ourown country in the modified state which it attained afterthe earlier inhabitants had destroyed lion, bear, wolf, andother noxious animals, as well as great herbivora, such asgiant deer, red deer, aurochs (or great bull), and bison—yetin reality a true "Nature-reserve" is not compatiblewith the occupation of the land, within some hundreds ofmiles of it, by civilized, or even semi-civilized, man.

Nothing but the isolation given by a wide sea or highmountain ranges will preserve a primeval fauna and flora—theindigenous man-free living denizens of the isolated[Pg 22]region—from destruction by the necessary unpremeditateddisturbance of Nature's balance by man once he haspassed from the lowest stage of savagery. At presentwe are faced by this difficulty in Africa. Not only thewhite settlers have large herds of cattle, but before theirarrival the native races had imported Indian cattle.These cattle are destroyed by "fly disease," the germs(trypanosomes) being carried by the tsetse-fly to thedomesticated cattle from wild buffalo which swarm withthe germs but are uninjured by them. Consequently, if therich pasture lands of Africa—at present unutilized—areto be occupied by herdsmen, the wild game, buffalo andantelopes, must be destroyed. In many regions theyhave been destroyed. Is this destruction to be continued?If Africa is to be the seat of a modern humanpopulation and supply food to other parts of the world,the whole "balance of Nature" there must be upset andthe big wild animals destroyed. There is no alternative.The practical question is, "How far is it possible tomitigate this process?" Can a great African "reserve"of 100,000 square miles be established in a position soisolated that it shall not be a source of disease anddanger to the herdsmen and agriculturists of adjacentterritory?

SOME men of unbalanced minds have lately proposeddeliberately and completely to obliterate all theartistic work of past generations of man in order, as theyopenly profess, that they themselves and their own productionsmay obtain consideration. Even were theyable to make such a clearance, it may be doubted whetherthe consideration given to their own performances wouldbe favourable. These obscure individuals have immodestlydubbed themselves "futurists," and the name has beenat once adopted as a mystification and advertisementby a variety of art-posers—probably unknown to theoriginators of the word—who have ventured into one orother of the fields of art without even the smallest gift,either of conception or of expression, or even of imitation.They receive undeserved attention from a section of thepublic ready to dabble in every newly-made puddle. Iam led to refer to them because the abolition of thesupremely beautiful things slowly evolved by Nature inthe long course of ages, and the substitution for them ofman's fancy breeds and races and garden paths, is notmerely a parallel piece of folly, but is due to a mentaldefect identical with that of the genuine "futurist,"namely, an intellectual incapacity which renders itsvictim insensible to the charm of historical and evolutionalcomplexity.

The modern man who nourishes a real love for undistortednature—that is to say, who is a true "naturalist"—hasone or two resources even in these British Islands.There are ways of access to Nature unadorned by manwhich are open even to the town-dweller. The chief ofthese is the seashore. Even from London, in the courseof a few hours, one may be transported to territory wherethere are no traces of man's operations. The region ofrock and pool, sand-flat, and shell-bank, exposed by thesea as it retreats, is a real "nature-reserve"—effectuallyso is that deepest area only exposed at spring-tides. Thelocality chosen by the naturalist must be at a distancefrom any great harbour or estuary polluted by the citiesseated on its banks, and should also be out of the wayof the modern steam-driven fish trawlers, which havecaused havoc in some sweet bays of our southern coastby pouring out tons of dead, unsaleable fish. Therejected offal has become the gathering-ground of carnivorousmarine creatures, and the balance of Nature hasbeen upset by the nourishment thus thoughtlessly thrownby man into new relations.

Some favoured spot on the south or west coast maybe known to our city-dwelling nature-lover, and thitherhe will hasten to spend week-ends, and, when he can,longer spells in the supreme delight of undisturbed communionwith the things of Nature, apart from human"enterprise." In some cottage near the sea marsh,where an unpolluted stream joins the salt water, he hashis accustomed lodging; his host, a cheery long-shorefisherman and handy boatman. Close by is the risingheadland and rocky cliff facing the sea. The shore isstrewn with rocks, and as the tide goes down long"reefs" are exposed, clothed with brown and green seaweeds.Here no man has intruded! When the water[Pg 25]recedes still farther, pools and miniature caverns appear,edged with delicate feathery red-coloured seaweeds.Many small fishes, shrimps of various kinds, sometimespale rainbow-tinted "squids" (one of the moredelicate cuttle-fishes), are seen darting about the pools,changing their colour with lightning rapidity. Theoverhanging sides of the rock-pools give protection togorgeously-coloured "sea-anemones" adhering to them.Here, also, are those exquisite ascidians—ill-describedby the rough name "sea-squirt"—hanging from therocks like drops of purest crystal in their transparency—forwhich naturalists use the prettier title "Clavellina."The nature-lover now turns one of the large flat slabs ofrock lying in such a pool—well knowing what lovelinessits under-side will reveal to his eyes. That under-sideis studded with a dozen or two of the most exquisitegems of green and peach colour, ruby and yellow(Corynactis by name!), which, if the slab of stone is leftbeneath the water, expand and display each its circletof brilliant little tentacles. They are sea-anemones nobigger than the precious stone in a signet-ring. Amongthem a bright salmon-coloured worm hastens with serpentinemovement and the rippling strokes of a hundredfeathery feet to escape from the unaccustomed light. Adeep blood-red coloured prawn (Alpheus) darts fromconcealment and hastily buries itself in the sandy bottomof the pool, snapping its pincerlike claw with a sharpcracking sound. A couple of bivalved shells (Limahians) which were concealed beneath the slab swim lazilyround the pool by opening and closing their delicatewhite "valves"—an unusual kind of activity in suchmussels, oysters, and clams—whilst a fringe of longorange-red tentacles trails in the water from each of them.The lifting of another rock may dislodge an "octopus"—ora huge brilliantly-coloured star-fish—or one of the[Pg 26]rarer kinds of crab eager to avoid the observation of theoctopus, of which it is the regular food. A spade pushedinto the neighbouring sandbanks reveals heart-urchins,gorgeous sea-worms, and burrowing shell-fish and perhapssand-eels. The human visitor—bending over thesescenes of wonderment and perhaps venturing to transferone or two only of the less familiar animals to a glassjar filled with sea-water so that he may see them moreclearly—at last stands up and straightens his back, gazingover the sun-bathed scene from the tumbled weed-grownrocks, encrusted with crowds of purple-blue mussels, tothe patches of golden sand, clear pools, and the bluesea beyond. Then he may note (as I have) a curiousrhythmical sound if he is among rocks covered with seaweeds—aquiet but incessant "hiss-hiss," which is heardabove the deeper-toned lapping of the little waves amongthe big stones. This is the sound made by the rasp-liketongues of the periwinkles feeding on the abundant weed,over which they crawl, leaving the water and "browsing"on the surface exposed to the air by the fall of the tide.The browsing sound of these little snails is to the seashorewhat the humming of bees is to inland meadows.

Day after day and at various seasons of the year thenature-lover will visit this sanctuary, and, whilst contemplatingthe lovely forms, colour, and movement ofits denizens, will learn the secrets of their life, of theircomings and goings, and the mysteries of their reproduction,their birth, and their childhood. Each dayhe finds something unknown to his brother naturalists.He will examine it with his lens, paint it in all itsbeauty, and tell of it in due course in printed page andcoloured portraiture; but he is no mere seeker fornovelty, nor is the credit of discovery the motive of hisdevotion. Beyond and greater than any such gains[Pg 27]are the incomparable delight, the never-failing happinesswhich personal intimacy with the secret things of naturalbeauty bring to him.

He has yet another chance of such enjoyment, ifhe be a microscopist, and familiar with the inhabitantsof fresh-water ponds. A pond is, in many cases, anoasis in the waste of civilization, a miniature nature-reserve,rarely, if ever, affected by human proceedingsuntil haply it is abolished altogether. A fairly deep,stagnant pond under trees in some secluded park is oneof the most favourable kind, but all sorts deserve inquiry(even the rain pools on the roofs of old houses in Parishave rewarded the faithful seeker), and may prove, for atime at least, havens of refuge for a wonderful assemblageof animalcules and minute microscopic plants,which for the most part perish as did the bison of theAmerican plains by the mere disturbance caused by thepropinquity of civilized man. I knew such a pond—itis now built over—near Hampstead. As one lay onthe bank and peered into the depths of the pond thetransparent, glass-like larvæ of the "plume fly"(Corethra) could be seen swimming in the clear water,driving before it troops of minute pink-coloured water-fleas(Daphnia) and other crustaceans.

In other parts the water was made bluish-green bycrowds of the little floating spherical animalcules called"Volvox globator." The mud contained many curiousworms allied to the earth-worm, whilst coiled roundfallen twigs were the small snake-like worms known as"Nais serpentina." Desmids, Diatoms, and animalcules ofendless variety abounded. A muslin net set on a ringon the end of a stick enabled one to procure samples ofthe floating life of the water and also to skim the[Pg 28]surface of the mud, and these spoils were brought homein bottles and searched for hours drop by drop with themicroscope. The world of active, graceful, bustling lifethus revealed as one gazes for hours through the magictube of the microscope, is as remote from human civilizationas that uncovered at low tide on the seashore.Many a worried City man, amongst them a great politicalwriter on the staff of a London daily, now passed fromamong us, has found in this microscopic world—soreadily accessible even at his own study table—a releasefrom care, a refreshing contact with unadulteratednatural things of life and beauty. My friend, IwanMüller, the writer referred to, was as discriminating ajudge of the shapes of wheel-animalcules as he was ofthe faces of the politicians of Europe and South Africa!

There is another and much more difficult escapefrom the grip and taint of civilization, which is thateffected by the explorer who penetrates into sparselyinhabited wilds such as those of the Australian continent.Man is there, but in such small number (one toevery 450 square miles!), and in so primitive and childlikea state, that he is not a disturbing element, butsimply one of the "fauna"—one of the curious animalsliving there under the domination of Nature—not yet"Nature's rebel," but submissive, unconscious, and amore fascinating study for us than any other of herproducts. He shows us what manner of men were ourown remote ancestors. The hunters who have left theirflint implements in the earlier river gravels of WesternEurope were such men as these Australian natives noware. Naked, using only sticks and chipped stones asimplements and weapons, destitute of crops or herds orhabitations, wandering from place to place in keensearch of food—small animals, birds, lizards, and grubs[Pg 29]—theseAustralians have none of the arts of the mostprimitive among other races, excepting that they canmake fire and construct a canoe of the bark of trees.They have not even the bow and arrow, but make useof spears and the wonderful "boomerang" in huntingand fighting. They daub themselves with a sort ofwhite paint, and decorate their bodies with great scarsmade by cutting gashes in the flesh with sharp stones,and they dress their heads and faces and ceremonialwands with wool and feathers, which they fix by theaid of an adhesive fluid always ready to hand—namely,their own blood. I recently was present at a lecturegiven to the Anthropological Institute in London byProfessor Baldwin Spencer, of Melbourne, with whom Iwas closely associated when he was a student at Oxfordthirty years ago. He has devoted many years to thestudy of the Australian natives, and ten years agopublished a most valuable work describing his experiencesamongst them, to which he has recently added a furthervolume. He has lived with them in friendship andintimacy in the remote wilderness of the Australianbush, and has been admitted as a member of one oftheir mysterious clans, of which the "totem," or supposedspirit-ancestor, is "the witchety grub"—a kind of caterpillar.He has been freely admitted to their secretceremonies as well as to their more public "corroborees"or dances, and has been able (as no one elsehas been), without annoyance or offence to them, to takea great number of cinema-films of them in their variousdances or when cooking in camp or paddling and upsettingtheir canoes, and climbing back again from theriver. Many of these he exhibited to us, and we foundourselves among moving crowds of these slim-legged,beautifully-shaped wild men. The film presented someof their strange elaborate dances, which soon will be[Pg 30]danced no more. These wild men die out when civilizedman comes near them. It appears that they really spendmost of their time in dancing when not looking for foodor chipping stone implements, and that their dances areessentially plays (like those of little children in Europe),the acting of traditional stories relating the history oftheir venerated animal "totem," which often last forthree weeks at a time! Whilst dancing and gesticulatingthey are chanting and singing without cessation,often repeating the same words over and over again.Here, indeed, we have the primitive human art, theemotional expression from which, in more advancedraces, music, drama, dancing, and decorative handicrafthave developed as separate "arts."

The most remarkable and impressive result wasobtained when Professor Baldwin Spencer turned onhis phonograph records whilst the wild men dancedin the film picture. Then we heard the actual voices ofthese survivors of prehistoric days—shouting at us inweird cadences, imitating the cry of birds, and accompaniedby the booming of the bull-roarer (a piece ofwood attached to a string, and swung rapidly round bythe performer). A defect, and at the same time aspecial merit, of the cinema show of the present day isthe deadly silence of both the performers and thespectators. Screams and oaths are delivered in silence;pistols are fired without a sound. One can concentrateone's observation on the facial expression and movementsof the actors with undivided attention and withno fear of startling detonations. And very bad theyalmost invariably are, except in films made by the greatFrench producers. On the other hand, I was astonishedat the intensity of the impression produced by hearingthe actual voices of those Australian wild men as they[Pg 31]danced in rhythm with their songs. To hear is agreater means of revelation than to see. One feelseven closer to those Australian natives as their strangewords and songs issue from imprisonment in the phonograph,than when one sees them in the film picturesactually beating time with feet and hands and imitatingthe movements of animals. To receive, as one sits in aLondon lecture-room, the veritable appeal of these remoteand inaccessible things to both the eye and the earsimultaneously, is indeed the most thrilling experience Ican remember. With a feeling of awe, almost of terror,we recognize as we gaze at and listen to the recordsbrought home by Professor Baldwin Spencer that weare intruding into a vast and primitive Nature-reservewhere even humanity itself is still in the state of childhood—submissiveto the great mother, without thedesire to destroy her control or the power to substituteman's handiwork for hers.

IT is always pleasing to find that intelligent care canbe brought to bear on the preservation of the rareand interesting animals which still inhabit parts of theseBritish Islands, though it is not often that such care isactually exercised. Mr. Lyell (a nephew of the greatgeologist Sir Charles Lyell) in April 1914 introduceda Bill into the House of Commons which is called theGrey Seals (Protection) Bill. It came on for considerationbefore the Standing Committee, was ordered to bereported to the House without amendment, and hasnow passed into law.

The Great Grey Seal is a much bigger animal thanthe Common Seal, the two species being the only sealswhich can be properly called "British" at the presentday, though occasionally the Harp Seal, or GreenlandSeal, and the Bladder-nosed Seal are seen in Britishwaters, and may emerge from those waters on to rockyshores or lonely sandbanks. The Great Grey Seal iscalled "Halichœrus grypus" by zoologists, whilst theCommon Seal is known as "Phoca vitulina." The maleof the former species grows to be as much as 10 feetin length, whilst that of the Common Seal rarely attains5 feet. Both these seals breed on the British coast. TheCommon Seal frequents the north circumpolar region,[Pg 33]being found on the northern coasts on both sidesof the Atlantic, and also on both sides of thePacific, and even makes its way down the coasts ofFrance and Spain into the Mediterranean, where itis rare. A few years ago one appeared on the beachat Brighton! It may often be seen on the west coastof Scotland, of Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall, where itbreeds in caves. Its hairy coat is silky, and has ayellowish-grey tint spotted with black and dark grey,most abundantly on the back.

The Great Grey Seal does not occur in the Pacific,but is limited to the northern shores on both sides ofthe Atlantic. Its coat is of a more uniform greyish-browncolour than that of the Common Seal, and whendried by exposure to the sun has a silvery-grey sheen.The Great Grey Seal is a good deal rarer on our coaststhan is the Common Seal. It is now limited to thesouth, west, and north coasts of Ireland, to the greatislands on the West of Scotland, the Orkneys, the Shetlands,and some spots on the east coast of Scotland.It is heard of as a rare visitor to the Lincolnshire"Wash," the coasts of Norfolk, Cornwall, and Wales.Some years ago (in 1883) I found a newly-born GreySeal on the shore of Pentargon Cove, near Boscastle,North Cornwall. It appears that whilst (contrary tothe statements of some writers) the Common Sealproduces its young most usually in caves or rock-shelters,the Great Grey Seal chooses a remote sandisland or deserted piece of open shore for its nursery.The Common Seal gives birth to its young—a singleone or a pair—in June; the Great Grey Seal about the1st of September. While the young in both species isclothed when born in a coat of long yellowish-whitehair, this coat is shed in the case of the Common Seal[Pg 34]within twenty-four hours of birth, exposing the shorthair, forming a smooth, silky coat, as in the adult, andthe young at once takes to the water and swims. Onthe other hand, the long yellowish-white coat of hairpersists in the young of the Great Grey Seal for six orseven weeks, during which time it remains on shore, andrefuses to enter the water. It is visited at sundown bythe mother for the purpose of suckling it. Accordingto Mr. Lyell, this renders the young of the Great GreySeal peculiarly liable to attack by reckless destructivehumanity, and he accordingly proposes legislation torender it a penal offence to destroy the young seals orthe mothers during the nursing season. It is estimatedthat the total number of Great Grey Seals in Scottishwaters has been reduced to less than 500, and that inEnglish and Irish waters the total is even less.

It has often been desired by naturalists that a checkshould be put by the Legislature upon the wantondestruction of the common seal, as well as of thegrey seal. It is certainly a regrettable result of theincreased visitation of our remote rocky shores byholiday-makers, so-called "sportsmen" and thoughtlessruffians of all kinds, that the large, and perfectlyharmless, grey seal is likely to be exterminated. Informer times in these islands, as to-day in morenorthern regions, there was a regular "seal fishery,"and vast numbers of seals were annually slaughteredfor the sake of their skins and fat. The fur of bothour native species, though differing vastly from thesoft under-fur of the fur-seals, or Otariæ, of the NorthPacific—which belong to a different section of the sealgroup, having small external "ears," and hind feetwhich can be moved forward and used in walking—isyet largely used for making gloves and thick overcoats.[Pg 35]To-day the number of British seals killed and broughtto market is so small that no local fishery interestswould suffer were all protected by the law during thespring and summer, when breeding and the rearing ofthe young is in progress. There is even less reason forobjecting to the protection of the larger and rarer "GreatGrey Seal," which, unless it had been placed under theshelter of an Act of Parliament, would in five or sixyears have ceased to be a denizen of the British Islands.

Owing to my having accidentally made the acquaintanceof a young grey seal, as mentioned above, in NorthCornwall, I feel a special interest in the legislativeprotection of this kind. I was at Boscastle at the endof August, and was delighted to see there on themorning after my arrival three or four of the commonseal swimming in the little rock-bound harbour. I wastold by native authorities that there was a cave in therocks at the side of Pentargon Cove, a couple of milesdistant (formerly inaccessible from the cliffs), wherethese seals breed, and that it had been the custom ofsome of the young men of the district to go roundthere in a boat when wind and tide served in the earlyspring and "raid" the cave. They could get in atlow tide, and, armed with heavy cudgels, they wouldattack the seals which were congregated in the cavernto the number of thirty or forty. A single well-deliveredblow on the nose was sufficient, I was assured, to kill afull-grown seal, and if fortunate the raiders might secureten or a dozen seals, which were then sold for their skinsand oil to Bristol dealers. The enterprise was dangerouson account of the rising tide and the struggles of theseals and their assailants among the slippery rocks anddeep pools in the darkness of the cave. Cruel andsavage as the adventure was, it yet had its justification[Pg 36]on a commercial basis—similar to that claimed for other"fisheries" of the great beasts of the sea hunted byman for their oil and skins. The seals of this cavewere undoubtedly the small common seal—the Phocavitulina—and I gathered that little had been heard oflate years of successful expeditions to these rocks. Iwas, however, told that a path had been cut and ropesfastened to iron stanchions in the face of the rockycliffs of Pentargon Cove just before my visit to Boscastle,which rendered it now comparatively easy to descendthe 150 feet of rock from the hill overlooking it andreach the shore of the curiously isolated and enclosedcove.

So, with two companions—my sisters—I set offthe next morning for Pentargon Cove. We climbeddown the face of the cliff by the aid of the much-neededropes and found ourselves on the shore, the tide beinglow. We hoped that we should be able to get a viewof the "seal-cave" and some of its inhabitants swimmingin its neighbourhood. We were disappointed in this,and my companions hastened down to the water's edge,in order to get as near as possible to the rocky sidesof the cove. I was about to follow them when I saw,lying in the open, on the pebbles above high-tide mark,what I took at first for a white fur cloak left there bysome previous visitor. I walked up to it, when, to myextreme astonishment, it turned round and displayed tomy incredulous gaze a pair of very large black eyesand a threatening array of teeth, from which a defianthiss was aimed at me. It was a baby seal, covered allover with a splendid growth of white fur, three inchesdeep. He was twice as big as the fur-covered youngof the common seal—more than two feet long—hisblack eyes were as big as pennies, and he was lying[Pg 37]there on the upper beach, far from the water, in thefull blaze of the sun, as dry and as "fluffy" as a well-dressedrobe of Polar bear's skin. We were indeed wellrewarded for our excursion in search of the seal's caveof Pentargon Cove! For this was a new-born pup ofthe Great Grey Seal, entirely unconnected with theinferior population of the inaccessible cave, laid herein the open by his mother at birth (as is the habit ofher species), little suspecting that the long-secludedshore of Pentargon Cove had that year been renderedaccessible to marauding land-beasts for the first time.Not knowing the peculiarities of the grey seal and therefusal of its young to enter the water until six weeksafter birth, when it sheds its coat of long white hair,we cautiously rolled the little seal on to my outspreadcoat and carried him to the water's edge. After thehissing with which he had greeted my first approachhe was not unfriendly or alarmed, and for my part Imust say that I have never yet stumbled upon any freegift of Nature which excited my admiration and regardin an equal degree. His eyes were beautiful beyondcompare. We placed him close to the water andexpected him to wriggle into it and swim off, but, onthe contrary, he wriggled in the opposite direction, andslowly made his way, by successive heaves, up the beach.He was not more than a day or two old, as was shownby the unshrunken condition of the umbilical cord. Wedid not like to leave him exposed to the attacks ofvagrant boys, who might climb down into the cove, sowe carried him on my coat to the shelter of some largerocks, a hundred yards along the shore. There, withmuch regret, we left him.

But on the following evening, as we sat down todinner, I heard from some other visitors at the Wellington[Pg 38]Inn, to whom, under pledge of secrecy, I had confidedour discovery, that they had been to Pentargon Cove tovisit our young friend, and found that he had beenremoved (probably by his mother) back to the exactspot where we had found him. They also stated thathis presence there had become known in the village, andthat the conviction had been expressed that "the boys"would certainly go and stone him to death! I hadalready reproached myself for going elsewhere that dayinstead of to Pentargon Cove to look after my youngseal, and now I hastily left my dinner, procured in thevillage two men and a potato sack, and hurried toPentargon Cove. As we approached the edge of thecliff the sun was setting, and the cove was very still andsuffused with a red glow. Then a weird sound rent theair, like that made by one in the agonies of sea-sickness.It was the little seal calling for his mother! It is thehabit of the females of this species to leave the shoreduring the day when they go in search of the fish onwhich they feed, and to return to their young in theevening, in order to suckle them. I could see, from above,my baby friend—a little white figure all alone in thedeepening gloom of the great cliffs—raising his headand, by his cries, helplessly inviting his enemies to comeand destroy him. In a few minutes we were down byhis side, had placed him in the potato sack, and broughthim to the upper air. On the way to the inn I purchaseda large-sized baby's bottle with a fine indiarubberteat. We placed the little seal on straw in a large openpacking-case in the stables, whilst the kitchen-maidwarmed some milk and filled the feeding-bottle. ThenI brought it to him, looking down on his broad, white-furredhead, with its wonderful eyes, set so as to throwtheir appealing gaze upwards. I touched his nose withthe milky indiarubber teat. With unerring precision[Pg 39]his lips closed on it, his nostrils opened and shut inquick succession, and he had emptied the bottle. Igave him a quart of milk before leaving him and gettingmy own belated meal. He slept comfortably, but atfour in the morning his cries rent the air, and threatenedto wake every one in the hotel. I had to get up, descendto the kitchen, warm some more milk for him, andsatisfy his hunger. He became fond of the bottle, andalso of the friend who held it for him. I arranged totake him to the Zoological Gardens when, after threedays, I left Boscastle. He travelled to London in theguard's van in a specially constructed cage, and was asbeautiful and happy as ever when I handed him over tothe superintendent at Regent's Park.

In those days (as it happened) there was little understandingor care at "the Gardens" as to the feeding ofan exceptional young animal like my little seal. It ispossible to treat cow's milk so as to render it suitable toa young carnivore, much as it is "humanized" for thefeeding of human babies, and I was willing to pay for acanine foster-mother were such procurable. I had thento leave London in order to preside over one of thesections of the British Association's meeting at Southport,and intended to take complete charge of my babyseal upon my return. But in less than a week theneglectful guardians at Regent's Park had killed himwith stale cow's milk. I believe such a foundling wouldhave a better chance there to-day, but the rearing ofyoung mammals away from their mother is, of course, adifficult and uncertain job.

I do not regret having taken the baby seal fromPentargon Cove, for I undoubtedly saved him from aviolent death, whilst his mother would soon recover from[Pg 40]the loss due to my action—a loss to which she and herfellow "grey seal-mothers" must be not unfrequentlyexposed from other causes. I do regret, however, thatit did not occur to me until too late that it would havebeen a wonderful experience to lie quietly on the shoresome few yards from the baby seal, as the sun set, andthen to see and hear the great seal-mother—7 or 8 feetlong—swim into the cove, raise her gigantic bulk on theshore, and heave herself across the pebbles to her eagerchild. To witness the embraces, caresses, and endearmentsof the great mysterious beast would have been arevelation such as a naturalist values beyond measure.And so I hope, with all my heart, that Mr. Lyell willsucceed in his good work of protecting the Great GreySeal.

IN August when so many people are either shootingor eating that delectable bird—the grouse—a fewwords about him and his kind will be seasonable."Grouse" is an English word (said to have meant in itsoriginal form "speckled"), and by "the" grouse we meanthe British red grouse, which, though closely related tothe willow grouse, called "rype" (pronounced "reepa") inNorway—a name applied also to the ptarmigan—isone of the very few species of birds peculiar to theBritish Islands. The willow-grouse turns white inwinter, and is often called the ptarmigan, which it is not,though closely related to it. The willow-grouse inhabitsa sub-arctic zone, which extends from Norway acrossthe whole continent of Europe and Asia, and throughNorth America, from the Aleutian Islands to Newfoundland.The red grouse does not naturally occur beyondthe limits of the British Islands. It does not turn whitein winter, and the back of the cock bird is darker incolour, as is also the whole plumage of the hen bird,than in the willow-grouse. The red grouse lives onheather-grown moors; the willow-grouse prefers theshrubby growths of berry-bearing plants interspersedwith willows, whence its name. No distinction can bediscovered in the voice, eggs, build, and anatomicaldetails of the two species. The red grouse and the[Pg 42]willow-grouse were, at no very distant prehistoric period,one species, but the race which has become isolated inthese islands has just the small number of markeddifferences which I have mentioned, and it breeds true,and therefore we call it a distinct "species." In Scotland,the red grouse is called "muir-fowl," and a century agowas almost invariably spoken of in England as moor-fowl,or moor-game. It is found on moors from Monmouthshirenorthward to the Orkneys, and inhabitssimilar situations in Wales and Ireland.

The red grouse and the willow-grouse belong to asection or "order" of birds which are classified togetherbecause they all have many points in common with"the common fowl" or jungle-cock and the pheasants.That order or pedigree-branch was named by HuxleyAlectoromorphæ, or cock-like birds, perhaps moresimply termed Galliformes, Gallus being the Latinname for "chanticleer." When there is a question ofthe groups recognized in the classification of animals,it is well to bear in mind, once for all, that the biggestbranches of the animal pedigree are called "phyla" (orsub-kingdoms); that these have branches or sub-divisionswhich are called "classes" (birds are a class of thephylum Vertebrata). Classes divide into "orders";these often are subdivided into "sub-orders." Orderscomprise each several smaller branches called "families,"families branch into "genera," and each "genus" containsa number of "species" which have diverged froma common ancestral form, and become more or lessstable and unchanging (but not unchangeable) at thepresent day. The individuals of a species are distinguishableby certain marks, shape, and colour from theindividuals of other species of the genus. They breedtrue to those points when in natural conditions, and[Pg 43]show some differences of habit, locality, and constitutionwhich emphasize their distinction as a separate "species."

The order Galliformes of the class Aves or birds isone of some eighteen similar orders of birds. It containsseveral families, namely, the grouse-birds, the partridges,the francolins (formerly introduced into Italy fromCyprus), the quails, the pheasants, including the commonfowl or Gallus, the peacocks, the turkeys, and, lastly,the guinea-fowls. The mound-builders and the SouthAmerican curassows (very handsome birds to be seenat the Zoological Gardens) are families which have tobe separated from the rest as a distinct sub-order.Fifty years ago the pigeons were placed in one orderwith the galliform birds, which was termed "Rasores,"or scratching birds; but they are now separated underthe name Columbiformes.

All the galliform birds are specially agreeable to manas food, and the domesticated race of the jungle-fowl—forwhich we have no proper English name, except thatof "the" fowl [1]—is second only to the dog in its closeassociation with man. It seems to have been domesticatedfirst in Burma, and was introduced into Chinaabout 1000B.C., and through Greece into Europe about600B.C. It is not mentioned in the Hebrew Scriptures,nor by Homer, nor figured on ancient Egyptian monuments.It was called "the Persian bird" by the Greeks,indicating that it came to them from the Far Eastthrough Persia. The common or barn-door fowl isassigned to the genus Gallus, of which there are fourwild species. It is very closely related to the pheasants(genus Phasianus, with several "local" species); indeed,[Pg 44]so closely that, when pheasants and "fowls" are kepttogether in confinement they will sometimes interbreedand produce vigorous hybrids. The peacocks are Indian,and with them is associated the Malay Argus-pheasant.They share with the turkeys, which are North Americanin origin, the habit of "display" by the male birds when"courting"—a habit which we see in a less markedform in the strutting, wing-scraping, and cries of thepheasants, chanticleers, and grouse-birds. The variousspecies of partridges are confined to the temperate regionsof the Old World, but the word is wrongly applied inAmerica and Australia to other kinds of birds. Theguinea-fowls are African, and so are the francolins andquails, the latter migrating to the South of Europe. Itis an interesting fact that, when the turkey was firstbrought from America, about 1550, a confusion grew upin Europe between it and the guinea-fowl. The turkeywas given a genus (Meleagris) to itself by Linnæus,who called it "M. gallopavo," whilst the guinea-fowl wascalled "Numida meleagris." We know, at present, other"species" of Meleagris besides M. gallopavo, and otherspecies of Numida.

Now we revert to the grouse-birds, a family forwhich the zoologist's name is Tetraonidæ. They allhave the beautiful crimson arch of bare knobby skinabove each eye which gives its chief beauty to ourgrouse. The family contains several genera and includedspecies. The largest species is the capercailzie(a Gaelic word), or cock of the wood, called by theFrench "coque du bois," by the Germans "auerhahn"(auerhuhn for the hen bird), and by the Norwegians"tiur." It is placed in the genus Tetrao (which givesits name to the "family"), and receives the specificname "urogallus." This fine bird was formerly native[Pg 45]in England, as well as in Scotland and Ireland, and isfound in the pine forests of Europe from Spain toLapland and Greece. It has been re-established inScotland since 1838. An allied species is found inSiberia. The black grouse (often called black cockand grey hen) is a second species of the genus Tetrao,namely, T. tectrix. It is often called "Lyrurus tetrix."The French name for it is "coq de bruyère"; the Germanis "birkhahn." It is a smaller bird than the capercailzie,but frequently produces hybrids with that species. Thebeautifully curled tail-feathers are favourite adornmentsfor the hat of mountaineers and hunters in the Tyrol andSwitzerland.

Though the word "grouse" may have been firstapplied (as some think) to the black cock, it is nowthe proper appellation of the red grouse. This birdis placed by zoologists in the genus Lagopus—themembers of which are easily distinguishable from otherTetraonidæ by the fact that their feet and toes arewell covered with feathers. "L. scoticus" is the scientificname of the red grouse. Being a purely British bird,it has no foreign designations. "L. saliceti" is thename of the allied willow-grouse, which has an endlessvariety of names, owing to its great range of distribution.The willow-grouse is often called ptarmigan, and is soldas such to the number of thousands by poulterers in ourmarkets, but it is not the true ptarmigan. Owing to thefact that its plumage is quite white in winter, there ismuch excuse for the confusion. The name "ptarmigan"is the Gaelic word "tarmachan," and no one has explainedhow the initial "p" came to be added to it.The bird called in Scotland tarmachan or ptarmiganis a third species of Lagopus. It is much rarer inScotland than the red grouse, and lives in high, bare[Pg 46]ground. It is numerous at an elevation far above thegrowth of trees in Norway, and occurs also in thePyrenees and the Alps. It turns white in winter (asdo all the species of Lagopus except the red grouse),and differs in many features of structure from the redgrouse and the willow-grouse. It is called "L.mutus." A fourth species of Lagopus is L. rupestris,of North America, Greenland, Iceland, and Siberia.Spitzbergen has a fifth species, L. hemileucurus, a largeform. The sixth and smallest species of Lagopus is theL. leucurus of the Rocky Mountains. There are yetfurther some excellent grouse-like birds, which areseparated to form other genera distinct from Lagopus.Though they do not inhabit the British Islands, someof them are brought occasionally to the London market.The hazel-hen of continental Europe is one of these,and is considered to be the most delicate game-bird thatcomes to table. It is placed in the genus Bonasa, andreceives the specific name "sylvestris." The Frenchcall it "gelinotte" (under which name various kinds ofcold-storage grouse are often served in London clubs andrestaurants), the Germans "hasel-huhn," and the Scandinavians"hjerpe." It is a purely forest bird. It is representedin North America by four other species, ofwhich the best known is Bonasa umbellus, called bythe Americans the ruffed grouse or birch-partridge.

Another genus of Tetraonidæ, or grouse-birds, iscalled "Canachites," and contains the species known as theCanadian spruce-partridge, Franklin's spruce-partridge,and the Siberian spruce-partridge. Nearly allied tothese is a genus Dendragapus, with three North Americanspecies. Then we have the sage-cock of the plains ofCalifornia (Centrocerus urophasianus), three species ofsharp-tailed grouse (genus Pediocætes), and "the prairie[Pg 47]hen," of which three species are placed in the genusTympanuchus. The United States have, undoubtedly,a great variety of grouse-like birds. Nevertheless, a yearago I met in Paris an American from the neighbourhoodof Boston who told me that he should have to desert hisnative land and come to live in Europe, because he couldnot obtain a regular supply of game-birds for his table inthe eastern States. He was eating a Scotch grouse atthe time with evident satisfaction.

The supply of grouse in this country has beenthreatened by disease caused by the attempt to makethe moors carry more birds than they would do undernatural conditions. The number annually shot onBritish moors is enormous. Predaceous animals havebeen destroyed in order to increase the number of birds,but this proceeding has resulted in allowing the weaklyto survive. The undisturbed stretches of moorland havealso of late years been greatly broken into both by roadsand building, and by the too abundant visitation ofstrangers of all kinds. Only a few years ago one moor-ownerwas able to boast that he had on several occasionskilled over 500 head of grouse in a single day on hismoor, and that in one season he and his guests hadkilled 18,231 head of grouse on that same moor!Personally I rejoice when grouse are abundant, but itseems to me possible that the moor above mentionedhad been made to carry, so to speak, too heavy a crop.However, there is reason to hope that the balance ofNature is restored after a few years of disease, which killsoff the too-abundant bird population.

THE "beach" on our English coast is an accumulationof pebbles or of sand, or of both, oftenaccompanied by dead shells and other fragments thrownup by the sea. Very generally it slopes rapidly fromabove high-water mark to about half-tide limit, and thenmerges into a more horizontal expanse of fine, compactsand. This last is not "a beach" thrown up by waves,but a sediment or deposit. It forms a flat, often ripple-markedplain (much has been written as to how thoseripple-marks are produced), which is exposed at lowwater, the sea retreating for a quarter or even half amile or more over it, on some level shores. Sometimes,though rarely, the sea rises and falls against a hard,rocky cliff without forming any beach or exposing any"shore" even at low tide. This occurs on parts ofthe Cornish coast, where the Atlantic beats againstadamantine cliffs, which even at low tide rise sheer fromthe water. Again, it sometimes happens that the shoreis simply formed of a terrace of sloping hard rock,without any "beach." But on the coast of Englandgenerally there is a good beach of sand or pebbles, orboth, overlying the native rock or clay, and sometimes itis growing every year, so as to extend the land surfaceseawards and add new acres to the possessions of thelandlord.

On other parts of the coast the beach "travels,"being driven along the underlying solid shore by theprevailing direction of the tidal currents and by thewaves. The sea-waves break close to the soft cliffsof clay, sand, and sandstone. These are continuallycrumbling away owing to the action of land water,which soaks from the surface down to the layers of clayand forms subterranean springs and streams. Theyundermine the face of the cliff and cause the upper partsto topple. When there is a big, broad, growing beachin front of such a cliff, the breaking down or "toppling"of its face only leads to the formation of a slope (at the"angle of rest"), and things remain but little changedfor ages. But if the beach is not being piled up andadded to and growing out seawards year by year, and is,on the contrary, a travelling beach, then the sea comesclose up to the cliff, and when masses of it topple on tothe beach the sea washes them away, and no "slope ofrepose" is formed. The cliff keeps on toppling as itis undermined by springs of land water. Its naturalbuttress against further breakage—namely, its ownfallen material—instead of resting against it as a greatsloping, protective bank, is washed away by the sea asfast as it falls, and is carried down the coast by the tidalcurrents. This is the story of "coast erosion" aboutwhich there has recently been a Government inquiry.Where the combined action of prevailing winds and seacurrents is throwing up and adding to the beach there isno coast erosion. The causes of the sea currents on ourcoasts are not easy to determine, as they are connectedwith the general contour of the land and the currents inlarge tracts of sea, such as the Channel and the NorthSea. Coast erosion is a serious thing. Large parts ofthe coast of Suffolk and Norfolk are being thus washedaway. It can be prevented by "holding" the beach[Pg 50]with piles and boarding, but this costs too much to makeit worth doing unless the land so preserved has a specialvalue for the erection of houses.

At Felixstowe, where I am writing, the sea hasswept away most of the flat—the "dunes," or "deans"—coveredwith grass, which it had itself built up by acontrary accumulating action before the time of theRomans. On this flat the ancient Roman town wasbuilt. Why the sea has reversed its action is verydifficult to say. But within my knowledge of this placehigh-water mark has advanced as much as 300 yardsnearer than it was to the old roadway and to old houses.The great town of Dunwich, which in the Middle Ageshad eleven churches, strong fortifications, and a flourishingtrade, stood on the flat grass-land in front of the cliff onthe Suffolk coast. Its site is now under the sea, not farfrom here. The breaking away of the cliff (on to whichpart of the town extended) is still going on there. Afew years ago I saw a great bricked well lying like afallen chimney on the shore. It had been exposed bythe crumbling of the cliff, and at last fell out of it.Once that well supplied fresh water to the monastery,part of the walls of which are still standing, and wereformerly three-quarters of a mile distant from the seashore.The prehistoric cliffs to which the sea camebefore it formed the flats or links which it is now againeating away, are often traceable a mile or two inland.On the other hand, on parts of the Lincolnshire coast thesea has piled up sand and shingle and added valuableland to the extent of hundreds of acres to the propertyof those whose estates were bounded by the shore line,and is still doing so. Perhaps the action of the northwind in blowing back and piling up sand out of thereach of the tide is influential in producing this increase[Pg 51]of shore-lands, which face northwards. Blown sandforms hills 30 feet and more in height on such flat landsas those of the Sandwich and Deal "links," which havebeen thrown up by the sea since St. Augustine landedat Richborough, then a seaport, now a couple of milesfrom the sea. On the French coast near Boulogne thesand has been blown inland so as to form stratifieddeposits on the low hill country as far as 3 or 4 milesfrom the sea, and the neighbouring port of Ambleteuse,which five hundred years ago had the chief trade withEngland—is now nothing but a vast stratified "dune" ofblown sand. The great Napoleon made some attemptto reopen the harbour, but gave it up as a bad job; theblowing of sand inwards from the enormous tract of flat,sandy shore was too much for his engineers.

The "erosion" and the contrary process of the"extension" of the coast by the action of the wavesand currents of the sea must be kept apart and distinguishedfrom a process leading to similar but notidentical results, namely, the actual "crumpling" or"buckling" of the earth's crust, leading to the rising ofthe land surface in some parts of the globe relatively tothe sea-level, and on the other hand to the sinking ofthe land beneath the sea in other regions. This changeof the actual level of the land has continually gone on inthe past, and is continually going on to-day. What arecalled "raised beaches" are seen on many parts of thecoast. These are lines of ancient beach, consisting ofsea-worn pebbles, fragments of shell, etc., forming terracesalong the face of the rocks which rise from the presentseashore—terraces which are now 15, 30, or morefeet above the sea-level, although they must at no verydistant period have been at the level of the sea. Theland has risen and carried them up out of reach of the[Pg 52]waves. Such a raised beach is seen along the rocksbordering Plymouth Sound, at a height of some 15 feet(so far as I can, at this moment, remember) above high-watermark. Owing to the fact that the rock is limestone,and is dissolved and redeposited by rain water, asa rock of sugar might be, the pebbles and shells of theold beach are all stuck together or "petrified" by redepositedlimestone (carbonate of lime). Lumps of itcan be carried away as specimens.

Geological deposits of much older date than thesecomparatively recent raised beaches tell us of the risingof great masses of land. Thus, for instance, marineshells in a deposit not quite so old as our chalk cliffsand downs, are present at a height of 10,000 feet, formingpart of the Alps. At one time that very spot was thebottom of the ocean, whilst other tracts of the earth'ssurface, now sunk hundreds of fathoms below the sea-level,stood out as continents, with hills and valleys wellraised above the waters. Direct evidence of the recentsinking of the coast as distinct from its erosion is notfamiliar to us in England. The evidence of it isnaturally obliterated, as the sinking goes on, whereas ona rising coast the evidence is as naturally preserved.But on the shores of the Mediterranean near Naples theevidence of sinking is well preserved, and has beencarefully studied and recorded. The ancient Romanroad is still sunk beneath the water, though the celebratedtemple of Puteoli, which was formerly submerged by thesinking of the land, has reappeared by a subsequentelevation of the same area. This has not brought thesite to so high a level as it had when the temple wasbuilt, as appears from the fact that the Roman pavedroadway close by is still some 15 feet below the surfaceof the sea.

A beach is built up of water-worn pebbles, consistingusually of bits of the rock of the immediate vicinity,which have become rounded and shaped by continuallyrolling and knocking against one another as the wavesof the sea throw them up or drag them down the slopingheap of like pebbles which is accumulated near high-waterline. At Dover and such places, under chalkcliffs, the beach consists of chalk pebbles oval in shape,often of 8 or 9 inches in length, with a large numberof well-rounded flint pebbles as big as your fist interspersed,or outnumbering the chalk pebbles. At Tenby,in South Wales, the beach consists of assorted sizes oflimestone pebbles, well-worn bits of the limestone cliffsof the neighbourhood. Large numbers of them areliterally "worm-eaten," being bored into, hard and denseas they are, by a little marine worm (known as Polydora),which may be sometimes found alive and at work in theselimestone pebbles lying between tide limits, or moreeasily at other places in similarly placed chalk blocksor pebbles. On a coast bounded by granite cliffs youget a beach of granite pebbles; where there are cliffsof slate or of sandstone, pebbles of slate or of sandstone.

But there are some beaches which, as remarkedabove, are continually travelling along the coast. Thaton the English shores of the North Sea, for instance,is always moving southwards, except where it is heldby piles and breakwaters, locally called "shies." Moreover,the land of the East Coast, especially the Suffolkand Norfolk coast, in the course of its erosion, has givenback to the sea old deposits of the glacial and post-glacialperiod, consisting of gravels and "drift," madeup of flint pebbles and fragments of rocks from themore northern regions over which the great Europeanice-cap of the glacial epoch extended, and from which[Pg 54]it ground and tore the surface rock and carried largeand small masses—boulders and incredible millions oftons of broken up fragments—and spread them overEast Anglia (where they form the so-called "glacialdrift"), and over regions still submerged in the NorthSea. Consequently the beach on the Suffolk seashorehas a specially variegated assortment of pebbles fromall sorts of more northerly situated rocks—thoughsmall flint pebbles, derived directly from glacial drift andby the drift from the chalk land-surface (the chalk itselfnot now reaching the shore-line of East Anglia), aregreatly predominant. It is in the chalk that flint takesits origin, being found there as large irregular nodulesand sheets.

I ONCE went down to Aldeburgh, on the Suffolkcoast, with a party of friends, which included anAmerican writer, himself as delightful and charming ashis stories. Why should I not give his name? It wasCable, the author of "Old Creole Days." We walkedthrough the little town to the sea-front, and came uponthe immense beach spreading out for miles towardsOrford Ness. "Well, I never!" said he to me; "Isuppose the hotel people have put those stones there tomake a promenade for the visitors. It's a big thing."It took me some time to persuade him that they werebrought there by the sea and spread out by it alone.It was his first visit to Europe, but he had seen theseashore on the other side, and there was nothing likethis over there, he declared. A similar readiness toascribe Nature's handiwork to the enterprise of hotel-keepersled a visitor to the Bel Alp, in the RhoneValley, when he looked down from that high-placedhostelry on to the great Aletsch glacier, with its central"moraine" of huge rock masses and debris, to exclaim,"I see the proprietor has spread a cinder-path along theglacier to prevent us from slipping. It's a convenience,no doubt, but gives a nasty dirty look to the snow."Mr. Cable, when he once realized that the greatAldeburgh beach was a natural production, did what a[Pg 56]true poet and naturalist must do—he fell in love withit, and spent hours in filling his pockets with strange-lookingpebbles of all kinds until he was brought intothe house to dinner by main force, when he spread hiscollection on the table, and demanded an explanationof "what, whence, and why" in regard to each pebble.Our companions—a great lawyer, a military hero, apolitician, and two "learned men"—regarded him aseccentric, not to say childish. But I entirely sympathizedwith him, and when next day we sailed downto Orford and stood in front of the old Norman fortress,he further established himself in my regard by deeplysighing and exclaiming, "So that is a real Englishcastle!" whilst several large tears quietly streameddown his undisturbed countenance.

To give an idea of what various rocks from far-distantlocalities may be brought together on an EastCoast beach, take that of Felixstowe as an example.What is true of the East Coast is to some extent alsotrue of the South Coast, and, indeed, wherever the seamakes the pebbles of a modern beach from the materialsfurnished by the breaking up of old deposits, which werein their day brought by ice-flows or torrential currentsfrom remote regions. The most abundant kind ofpebbles on the Felixstowe beach are small, rounded,somewhat flat pieces of flint, derived not directly fromthe chalk which is the "stratum" or "bed" in whichflint is originally formed, but from the Red Crag cappingthe clay cliffs (London clay or early Eocene), and alsofrom surface washings and "gravels" (of later age thanthe crag) farther north, whence they have travelled southwardwith many other constituents of the beach. Allthese flints are stained ruddy brown or yellow by iron—aprocess they underwent when lying in the gravels or[Pg 57]in the crag in which they were deposited as pebbles,broken, washed, and rolled ages ago from the chalk.The iron is in a high state of oxidation, and stains notonly flint pebbles but the sands of the Red Crag andlater gravels a bright orange-red, or sometimes a lessruddy yellow. The iron comes originally from veryancient igneous rocks in which it is black and usuallycombined with silica. The chalk flints are always, owing,it seems, to minute quantities of carbon, quite black inthe mass, but thin, translucent splinters have a yellowish-browntint. The flints are free from iron stain whentaken direct from the chalk. The commonest pebblenext to flint is milky quartz, or opaque white quartz.This is derived from some far northern source, wherethere are igneous rocks traversed by veins of thissubstance (perhaps Norway). Quartz, like flint, is puresilica, the oxide of the element silicon. It appears inanother form as rock-crystal, and also as chalcedonyand agate. Opal also is pure silica, but differs fromquartz and its varieties in being non-crystalline oramorphous, and in being less hard and of less specificgravity than quartz. Opal is soluble in alkaline watercontaining free carbonic acid, such as are many naturalwaters and the sea! But quartz is not so. The siliceous"spicules" and skeletons of many microscopic animalsand plants are "opal." The gem known as "opal" isa variety owing its beauty to minute fissures in its substancewhich break up light into the prismatic colours.

A great deal rarer than the milky quartz, but wellknown on the East Coast on account of their beauty,and often sought for to be cut and polished, are thesmall rolled bits or pebbles of chalcedony or agate,which have been bedded before their appearance on thebeach in some of the pre-glacial or post-glacial gravels,[Pg 58]together with the flints, and in consequence are oftenstained of a fine red. Such clear red-stained chalcedonyis called "carnelian"; if the banded agate structureshows, it is called agate rather than carnelian. It iswonderful how many beautiful pieces of both carnelianand agate are picked up on the Felixstowe beach, rarely,however, bigger than a hazel nut. The original sourceof these carnelians and agates is the East of Scotland.At Montrose you may see the igneous rock containingpale, lavender-coloured agate nodules as big as a potato,the breaking and rolling of which by the sea into smallbits has furnished our Suffolk carnelians. Quartzite—moreor less translucent, sandy-looking pebbles, colourlessor yellow: jasper, black or green with red veining:a fine wine-red or purple stone often veined with quartz—areall more or less common, and come from northernigneous rocks—possibly some from Scandinavia andsome from the breaking up of an ancient "breccia" ofthe Triassic age, which still exists northwards of EastAnglia.

Other pebbles very common on this shore are thoseformed in a curious way by the sea-water from the claycliffs and sea bottom which are here present, and are ofthat special geologic age and character known as theLondon clay. The sea at this moment is continuallyconverting the clay of our Suffolk shore into "cement-stone"by a definite chemical process. The clay andmany other things submerged in the sea, as Shakespeareknew, "undergo a sea-change." The cement-stone usedto be dredged up from the sea bottom and ground tomake cement at Harwich. Great rock-like slabs of itpave the shore at low water, and pebbles of it areabundant. The curious thing is that ages ago—geologicalages, I mean—when the sea was throwing up[Pg 59]here the old shell-banks and sand-banks known nowadaysas "the Red and Coralline Crags," the Londonclay cliffs and clay sea bottom were in existence just asthey are now. But in that period there existed hereenormous quantities of bones of whales of kinds nowextinct, which had lived a little earlier in the sea of thisarea, and were deposited in vast quantity as a sort offirst layer of beach or shallow water sea-drift. Bonesconsist largely of phosphate of lime, and are used asmanure. In that old crag sea the phosphate of limewas dissolved from the deposit of bones, and as we findoccurring in the case of other clays and other boneselsewhere—was chemically taken up by the clay—thesame kind of clay which to-day is being converted into"cement-stone." It was thus, at that remote period,converted into "clay phosphorite," owing to the presenceof the immense deposit of whales' bones, and it has beenknown for sixty years as Suffolk "coprolite," owing to amistaken notion that it was the petrified dung of extinctanimals. It has been dug up by the ton from belowthe crag all over this part of Suffolk, where it forms,together with bones, teeth, flints, and box-stones, a bedof small nodules, a foot or so thick separating theLondon clay from the shelly "crag." This bed is calledthe Suffolk bone-bed or nodule-bed. The phosphorite,or "coprolite," occurs in the form of bits of clay,hardened by phosphate of lime, and of the colour ofchocolate, and hundreds of tons of it have been used bymanufacturers of the manure known as "superphosphate."Henslow, of Cambridge, Darwin's friend and teacher, wasthe first to point out its value. Bits of it, as well asbox-stones, and fragments of bone, teeth of whales, ofsharks, of mastodon, rhinoceros, tapir, and other extinctanimals—all fallen from the bone-bed in the cliff—arefound mixed with the pebbles of the Suffolk beach by[Pg 60]those who lie on that beach in the sunshine, and, forwant of something better to do, turn over handful afterhandful of its varied material. And, besides all thestones I have already mentioned, they find amber,washed here by some mysterious currents from theBaltic, wonderful fossil shells out of the crag, thecameo shell, and the great volute,—shells which areas friable as the best pastry when dug out of the RedCrag, but here on the shore become hardened bydefinite chemical action of the sea-water, so as to beas firm as steel. Here, too, the "chiffonier" of the seashorefinds recent shells, recent bones (slowly dissolvingand wearing away), well-rounded bits of glass, jetdrifted down from Whitby, Roman coins, bits of Samianware (!), mediaeval keys, bits of coal, burnt flints (fromsteamers' furnaces), and box-stones.

A very important and interesting thing about"beaches" is the way in which the pebbles of whichthey consist are assorted in sizes. Suppose that oneprepares a trough some two or three yards long andtwelve inches deep, and lets it fill with water from a constantlyrunning tap, tilting it slightly so that the waterwill overflow and run away at the end farthest from thetap. Then if one drops into the trough near the taphandful after handful of coarse sand and small stones ofvaried sizes, they will be carried along by the stream,and the more rapid and voluminous the stream thefarther they will be carried. But they will eventuallysink to the bottom of the trough, the bigger pieces first,then the medium-sized, then the small, and the smallerin order, as the current carries them along, so that onegets a separation and sorting of the solid particlesaccording to size, a very fine sediment being depositedlast of all at the far end of the trough. The waves of[Pg 61]the sea are continually stirring up and assorting theconstituents of the beach in this way. Usually thelargest pebbles are thrown up farthest by the advancingwaves, and dropped soonest by the backward suck of theretreating water, so that one generally finds a predominanceof big pebbles at the top of the beach. Buton the flat shore of firm ripple-marked sand lying lowerdown than the sloping "beach" and only exposed atquite "low tide," one often finds very big pebbles of eightor nine pounds weight scattered here and there and littlerubbed or rounded. They have gradually moved downthe sloping beach and are too heavy to be thrown backagain by the waves of the shallow sea which flows overthe flat shores characteristic of much of our south-easternand southern coast. On some parts of the coast hugebanks, consisting exclusively of enormous pebbles as bigas a quartern loaf, are piled up by the waves, forming agreat ridge often miles in length, as at the celebratedChesil pebble bank near Weymouth, and at WestwardHo! in North Devon. The presence of these speciallylarge pebbles is due to the special character of the rockswhich are broken up by the sea to form them, and to thespecially powerful wave-compelling winds and tidalcurrents at the parts of the coast where they are produced.

One generally finds a selected accumulation ofmoderate-sized pebbles lower down the beach as thetide recedes, and then still lower down patches of sandalternating with patches or tracts of quite small pebblesnot much bigger than a dried pea. They are alwaysassorted in sizes, but the extent of each tract of a givensize of pebble varies greatly on different beaches alongthe coast, and even from day to day on the same shore.The greater or less violence of the waves, and of the[Pg 62]currents caused by wind and tide, is the cause of thisvariation and local difference. The pebbles of the"beach" are, of course, always being worn away, roundedand rubbed down by their daily movement upon oneanother, caused by the waves as the tide mounts andagain descends over the shore. Even the biggest stones,excepting those which lie in deeper water beyond thebeach, are eventually rubbed down, and become quitesmall; but a point is reached when, the weight of thepebbles being very small, they have but little effect inrubbing down each other, and consequently where thepebbles consist of very hard material—like flints—thesmallest ones are not so much rounded, but are angularand irregular in shape.

Whilst a perfect gradation in size can be found fromthe largest flint pebbles some 6 inches or 7 inches longto the smallest, usually not bigger than a split pea(though sometimes a patch of even smaller constituentsmay be found), there is a real break or gap between"pebbles" and "sand." I am referring now to whatis commonly known as "sand" on the southern part ofthe East Coast, much of the South Coast, and the shoresof Holland, Belgium, and France. There are "sands"of softer material (limestone and coral sand), but thesands in question are almost entirely siliceous, made upof tiny fragments of flint, of quartz, agate, and hard,igneous rock. They are often called "sharp" sand.The particles forming this sand are sorted out by theaction of moving water, and form large tracts betweentide-marks looking like brown sugar, for which babyvisitors have been known to mistake them, and accordinglyto swallow small handfuls. The strong wind fromthe sea blows the sand thus exposed, as it dries, inlandout of reach of the tide, to form sand-dunes, and it is[Pg 63]also deposited, together with still finer particles (thosecalled "mud"), on the shallower parts of the sea bottom.The curious thing about the particles of "sharp" sandis that they are angular, and for the most part withoutrounded edges. If you examine them under a microscopeyou will see that they do not look like pebbles—infact, they are not pebbles, for they are so small andhave so little weight, or, rather, mass, that they do notrub each other to any effect when moved about in water.They look like, and, in fact, are, for the most part brokenbits of silica, unworn and sharp-edged splinters andchips, glass-like in their transparency and most of themcolourless, a few only iron-stained and yellow. Amongstthese are a few rounded, almost spherical pieces, whichare no doubt of the nature of minute water-worn pebbles.Although these few minute pebbles exist among thesharp, chiplike particles of "sand," it is clear that wemust broadly distinguish "pebbles" of all sizes down tothe smallest—from the much smaller "sand particles."There is no intermediate quality of material between"sand" and the finest "shingle."

THERE are curious facts about sand which can bestudied on the seashore. There are the "quicksands,"mixtures of sand and water, which sometimesengulf pedestrians and horsemen at low tide, not onlyat the Mont St. Michel, on the Normandy coast, but atmany spots on the English, Welsh, and Scotch coasts.Small and harmless quicksands are often formed wherethe sand is not firmly "bedded" by the receding sea,and the sea-water does not drain off, but forms a sort ofsand-bog. Then one may also study the polishing anderoding effect of dry blown sand, which gives a "sand-glaze"to flints, and in "sand-deserts" often wears awaygreat rocks. The natural polishing of flints and otherhard bodies by fine sand carried over them for monthsand years in succession by a stream of water, is also amatter of great interest, about which archæologists wantfurther information.

A very interesting fact about the ordinary sand ofthe seashore is that two pints of dry sand and half a pintof water when mixed do not make two pints and a half,but less than that quantity. If you fill a child's pail withdry sand from above the tide-mark, and then pour on toit some water, the mass of sand actually shrinks. Thereason is that when the sand is dry there is air between[Pg 65]its particles, but when the sand-particles are wetted theyadhere closely to each other; the air is driven out, andthe water does not exactly take an equivalent space, butoccupies less room than the air did, owing to the closeclinging together of the wet particles. If you add alittle water to some dry sand under the microscope, youwill see the sand-particles move and cling closely to oneanother. "Capillary attraction"—the ascent of liquidin very fine tubes or spaces—is a result of the same sortof adhesive action. If you walk on the firm, damp sandexposed at low tide on many parts of the seashore whenit is just free from water on the surface, you will seethat when you put your foot down the sand becomessuddenly pale for some seven inches or so all round yourfoot. The reason is that the water has left the pale-lookingsand (dry sand looks paler than wet sand), and has goneinto the sand under your foot, which is being squeezedby your weight. The water passing into that squeezedsand enables its particles to sit tighter or closer together,and so to yield to the pressure caused by your weight.You actually squeeze water "into" the sand, instead ofsqueezing water "out" of it, as is usually the case whenyou squeeze part of a wet substance—say a cloth or asponge. When you lift your foot up, you find that yourfootmark is covered with water—the water you haddrawn to that particular spot by squeezing it. Itseparates as soon as the pressure is removed.

Quartz and quartzite pebbles occur on theSouth as well as the East Coast. They are sometimescalled "fire-stones," because they can be made toproduce flashes of flame. If you take a couple of thesepebbles, each about as big as the bowl of a dessert-spoon(a couple of flint pebbles will serve, but not so well), andholding one in each hand in a dark room, or at night,[Pg 66]scrape one with the other very firmly, you will producea flash of light of an orange or reddish colour. And atthe same time you will notice a very peculiar smell,rather agreeable than otherwise, like that of burningvegetable matter. It would seem that the rubbingtogether of the stones produces a fine powder of some ofthe siliceous substance of the stone and at the sametime a very high temperature, which sets the powderaflame. I had the idea at one time, based on the curioussmell given out by the flashing pebbles, that perhapsit was a thin coating of vegetable or other organicmatter derived from the sea-water which burns when thestones are thus rubbed together; but I found on chemicallycleaning my pebbles, first with strong acid andthen with alkali, that the flame and the smell wereproduced just as well by these chemically clean stonesas by those taken from the beach. The flame producedby the rubbing of the two stones seemed then to be likethe sparks obtained by strike-a-lights of flint andsteel, or the prehistoric flint and pyrites. Now, however,a new fact demands consideration. The suppositionthat the powdered silica formed, when one rubs the twopebbles together, is actually "burnt," that is to say,combined with the oxygen of the air by the great heatof the friction, is rendered unlikely by the fact that ifyou perform the rubbing operation in a basin of waterwith the stones submerged, the flash is produced aseasily as in the air. My attention was drawn to thisfact by a letter from the well-known naturalist theRev. Reginald Gatty. I at once tried the experimentand found the fact to be as my correspondent stated.Not only so, but the smell was produced as well as theflash.

With the desire to get further light on the subject,[Pg 67]I consulted the great experimental physicist, my friendSir James Dewar, in his laboratory at the RoyalInstitution. He told me that the late Professor Tyndalused to exhibit the production of flame by the friction oftwo pieces of quartz in his lectures on heat, but madeuse of a very large and rough crystal of quartz (rock-crystal)and rubbed its rough surface with another largecrystal. Tyndal's note on the subject in his lectureprogramme was as follows (Juvenile Lectures on Heat,1877-78): "When very hard substances are rubbedtogether light is produced as well as heat." Sir JamesDewar kindly showed me the crystals used by Tyndal,the larger was 16 inches long and 4 or 5 inches broad.We repeated the experiment in the darkened lectureroom, and obtained splendid flashes. The same smell isproduced when rock-crystal is used as when flint orquartz pebbles are rubbed together. All three are thesame chemical body, namely, silica (oxide of silicon).We also found that when the crystals were bathed withwater or (this is a new fact) with absolute alcohol, thesame flashing was produced by the friction of one againstthe other.

Later, with the kind assistance of Mr. Herbert Smith,of the mineral department of the Natural HistoryMuseum, I examined, with a spectroscope, the flash givenby two quartzite pebbles when rubbed together. Nodistinctive lines or bands were seen; only a "continuous"spectrum, showing that the temperature produced was nothigh enough to volatilize the silicon. I also examinedsome pebbles of another very hard substance—nearly ashard as silica (rock-crystal, quartz, and flint). This waswhat is called "corundum," the massive form of "emerypowder" (oxide of aluminium). By grinding two ofthese corundum pebbles with very great pressure one[Pg 68]against the other (using much greater pressure than isneedful in the case of quartz), I obtained flashes of light.It was not known previously that any pebbles exceptthose of silica would give flashes of light when rubbedtogether. A smell resembling that given out by rubbedquartz, but fainter, was observed.

Those are the facts—new to me and to many others—aboutthis curious subject. The flashing under wateris a very remarkable thing. I cannot say that I amyet satisfied as to the nature of the flash. A simpleexplanation of the result obtained, when two dry pebblesare rubbed together in the air, is that crushed particlesof the quartz or of the corundum are heated by the heavyfriction to the glowing point. But this does not accordwith the fact that submergence in a liquid does notinterfere with the flashing. The rise of temperaturewould certainly be checked by the liquid. And thecurious smell produced is in no way explained.

The breaking of crystals is in many instances knownto produce a flash of light. Thus a lump of loaf sugarbroken in the dark gives a faint flash of blue light, asanyone can see for himself immediately on reading this.White arsenic crystals also, when broken by shaking theliquid in which they have formed, give out flashes oflight. Some rare specimens of diamond, when rubbedin the dark with a chamois leather, glow brightly. Thewell-known mineral called Derbyshire spar, "Blue John,"or fluoride of calcium, when heated to a point muchbelow that of a red-hot iron, "crackles" and glowsbriefly with a greenish light. The crystals of phosphateof lime, called apatite, and a number of other crystalshave this property. But there is no record of anypeculiar smell accompanying the flashes of light. It is[Pg 69]still a matter open to investigation as to whether theflashing of pieces of quartz and rock-crystal when rubbedtogether with heavy pressure is of the nature of theflashing of the heated crystals of other minerals, orwhether there is any chemical action set up by thefriction—an action which is certainly suggested by thevery peculiar smell produced. Since the flashing canbe produced under water and other liquids, it should beeasy to obtain some evidence as to the chemical natureof the flame—whether acid or alkaline, whether capableof acting on this or that reagent dissolved in the water,and whether setting free any gas of one kind or another.

Any one of my readers who chooses can producethe wonderful orange-coloured flame by rubbing twoquartz or flint pebbles together in the dark, and canhave the further gratification of producing with theutmost ease the mysterious and weird phenomenon of aflame under water, and may, perhaps, by further experiment,explain satisfactorily this unsolved marvel whichhas haunted some of us since childhood.

AMBER is not unfrequently picked up among thepebbles of the East Coast. I once picked upa piece on the beach at Felixstowe as big as a turkey'segg, thinking it was an ordinary flint-pebble and intendingto throw it into the sea, when my attention wasarrested by its extraordinary lightness, and I found thatI had got hold of an unusually large lump of amber.There is a locality where amber occurs in considerablequantity. It is a long way off—namely, the promontorycalled Samland near Königsberg on the Prussian shore ofthe Baltic. There it occurs with fossil wood and leavesin strata of early Tertiary age, deposited a little laterthan our "London clay." It used to be merely pickedup on the shore there until recent times, when "mining"for it was started. From this region (the Baltic coast ofPrussia) amber was carried by the earliest traders inprehistoric times to various parts of Europe. Theirjourneyings can be traced by the discovery of amberbeads in connexion with interments and dwelling-placesalong what are called "amber routes" radiating fromthe amber coast of Prussia. To reach the East Coastof England the bits of amber would have to be carriedby submarine currents. Amber travels faster and fartherthan ordinary stones, on account of its lightness. Whathas been held to be amber is found, also embedded in[Pg 71]ancient Tertiary strata, in small quantity in France, inSicily, in Burma, and in green sand (below the chalk)in the United States. The Sicilian amber (called"Simetite") was not known to the ancients: it is remarkablefor being "fluorescent," as is also some recentlydiscovered in Southern Mexico. But it is possible thatchemically these substances are not quite the same astrue amber. Amber is a fossil resin or gum, similar tothat exuded by many living trees, such as gum-copal.It has been used as an ornament from prehistoric timesonwards, and was greatly valued by the Egyptians,Greeks, and Romans, and by our Anglo-Saxon ancestors,not only for decorative purposes, but as a "charm," itbeing supposed to possess certain magical properties.

Amber (it is generally believed) comes slowly driftingalong the sea bottom to the Suffolk shore from theBaltic. Lumps as big as one's fist are sometimes pickedup here. The largest pieces on record found on theBaltic shore, or dug out of the mines there, are from12 to 18 lb. in weight, and valued at £1000. A partysent by the Emperor Nero brought back 13,000 lb. ofamber from the Baltic shores to Rome. The bottomcurrents of seas and oceans, such as those which possiblybring amber to our shores, are strangely disposed. TheSeigneur of Sark some fifty years ago was shipwreckedin his yacht near the island of Guernsey; he lost, amongother things, a well-fastened, strongly-made chest, containingsilver plate. It was found a year later in deepwater off the coast of Norway and restored to him! Inthe really deep sea, over 1000 fathoms down, thereare well-marked broad currents which may be describedas rivers of very cold water (only four degrees or soabove freezing-point). They flow along the deep seabottom and are sharply marked off from the warmer[Pg 72]waters above and to the side. Their inhabitants aredifferent from those of the warmer water. They are dueto the melting of the polar ice, the cold water so formedsinking at once owing to its greater density below thewarmer water of the surface currents. These deepcurrents originate in both the Arctic and Antarctic regions,and the determination of their force and direction, aswell as of those of other ocean currents, both deep andsuperficial, such as the warm "Gulf Stream," whichstarts from the Gulf of Mexico, and the great equatorialcurrents, is a matter of constant study and observation,in which surveying ships and skilled observers have beenemployed.

Amber has not only been valued for its beauty ofcolour—yellow, flame-colour, and even deep red andsometimes blue—for its transparency, its lightness, andthe ease with which it can be carved, but also on accountof certain magical properties attributed to it. Pliny, thegreat Roman naturalist of the first centuryA.D., statesthat a necklace of amber beads protects the weareragainst secret poisoning, sorcery, and the evil eye. Itis first mentioned by Homer, and beads of it were wornby prehistoric man. Six hundred yearsB.C., a Greekobserver (Thales) relates that amber when rubbed hasthe power of attracting light bodies. That observationis the starting-point of our knowledge of electricity, aname derived from the Greek word for amber, "electron."In Latin, amber is called "succinum." By heating inoil or a sand-bath, amber can be melted, and the softenedpieces squeezed together to form larger masses. It canalso be artificially stained, and cloudy specimens arerendered transparent by heating in an oil-bath.

Amber is the resinous exudation of trees like the[Pg 73]"Copal gum" of East Africa and the "Kauri resin" or"Dammar" of New Zealand. Both of these productsare very much like amber in appearance, and can bereadily mistaken for it. The trees which produced theamber of the Baltic were conifers or pine trees, andflourished in early Tertiary times (many millions of yearsago). Their leaves, as well as insects of many kinds,which have been studied and named by entomologists,are found preserved in it. There is a very fine collectionof these insects in the Natural History Museum inLondon. It is probable that more than one kind oftree produced the amber-gum, and that its long "fossilization"has resulted in some changes in its density andits chemical composition. The East African copal isformed by a tree which belongs to the same family asour beans, peas, and laburnum. It is obtained whenfreshly exuded, but the best kind is dug by the negroesout of the ground, where copal trees formerly grew andhave left their remains, so that copal, like amber, is to alarge extent fossilized. The same is true of the NewZealand dammar or kauri gum, which is the product ofa conifer called "Agathis australis," and is very hard andamber-like in appearance. Chemically amber, copal, anddammar are similar to one another but not identical.Amber, like the other two, has been used for making"varnish," and the early Flemish painters in oils, as wellas the makers of Cremona violins, made use of ambervarnish.

A medicament called "eau de luce" was formerlyused, made by dissolving one of the products of the drydistillation of amber (called "oil of amber") in alcohol.Now, however, amber is used only for two purposes—besidesdecoration—namely, for the mouthpieces of pipesand cigar tubes and for burning (for amber, like other[Pg 74]resins, burns with a black smoke and agreeable odour)as a kind of incense (especially at the tomb of Mahometat Mecca). These uses are chiefly Oriental, and mostEuropean amber now goes to the East. In China theyuse a fine sort of amber, obtained from the north ofBurma. The use of amber as a mouthpiece is connectedwith its supposed virtues in protecting the mouthagainst poison and infection. It is softer than the teeth,and therefore pleasant to grip with their aid; but as acigar or cigarette tube it is disadvantageous, as it doesnot absorb the oil which is formed by the cooling of thetobacco smoke passing along it, but allows it to condenseas an offensive juice.

Forty years ago an old lady used to sit in thedoorway of her timber-built cottage in the village ofTrimley (where there are the churches of two parishesin one churchyard), smoking a short clay pipe andcarving bits of amber found on the Suffolk beach intothe shape of hearts, crosses, and beads. She wouldcarve and polish the amber you had found yourselfwhilst you joined her in a friendly pipe. You weresure in those days of the genuine character of theamber, jet, and agate sold as "found on the beach."Nowadays these things, as well as polished agates and"pebbles from the beach," are, I am sorry to say,manufactured in Germany, and sent to many Britishseaside resorts, like the false coral and celluloid tortoise-shellwhich, side by side with the genuine articles, areoffered by picturesque Levantines to the visitors at hotelson the Riviera, and even in Naples itself. Nevertheless,genuine and really fine specimens of amber picked up onthe beach and polished so as to show to full advantagetheir beautiful colour and "clouding" can still bepurchased in the jeweller's shop at Aldeburgh on the[Pg 75]Suffolk coast near the great pebble beach of Orfordness.

There are difficulties about using the word "amber"with scientific precision. The fossil resins which passunder this name in commerce, and are obtained in variouslocalities, including the Prussian mines on the Baltic, areundoubtedly the product of several different kinds oftrees, and, from the strictly scientific chemical point ofview, they are mixtures in varying proportions of differentchemical substances. The merchant is content with acertain hardness (which he tests with a penknife),transparency, and colour, and also attaches greatimportance to the test of burning a few fragments in aspoon, when, if the material is to pass as "amber," itshould give an agreeable perfume. Scientifically speaking,"amber" differs from other "resins," includingcopal, in having a higher melting point, greater hardness,slighter solubility in alcohol and in ether, andin containing "succinic acid" as an important constituent,which the other resins, even those most like it,do not. True amber thus defined is called "succinite,"but several other resins accompany it even as found inits classical locality—the Baltic shore of Prussia—and,owing to their viscid condition before fossilization, mayhave become mixed with it. One of these is called"gedanite," and is used for ornamental purposes. It ismore brittle than amber, and contains no succinic acid.It is usually clear and transparent, and of a pale wine-yellowcolour.

It is not possible to be certain about the exactnature of what appears to be a "piece of amber" thrownup on the seashore, without chemical examination. Ayear or two ago a friend brought to me a dark brownish-yellow-coloured[Pg 76]piece of what looked like amber, which(so my friend stated) had been picked up on the shoreat Aldeburgh. It was as big as three fingers of one'shand, very transparent and fibrous-looking, owing to thepresence of fine bubbles in its substance arranged inlines. I found an exactly similar piece from the samelocality in the collection of the Natural History Museum.It was labelled "copal," and, I suppose, had been chemicallyascertained to be that resin and not "amber," or,to use the correct name, "succinite." How either ofthese pieces got into the North Sea it is difficult to say.Though the "copal" of commerce is obtained from theWest Coast of Africa, it may occur (though I have notheard that it does) associated with true amber in Prussia.A fossilized resin very similar to copal is found in theLondon clay at Highgate and elsewhere near London,and is called "copalite." It is possible, though notprobable, that the bits of amber found on our East Coastbeaches are derived from Tertiary beds, now broken upand submerged in the North Sea, and do not travel tous all the way from the Baltic.

LET us now leave the beach-pebbles and go downon to the rocks at low tide in order to see someof the living curiosities of the seashore. There aresome seaside resorts where, when the tide goes down,nothing is exposed but a vast acreage of smooth sand,and here the naturalist must content himself with suchspoils as may be procured by the aid of a shrimping-netand a spade. Wading in the shallow water and usinghis net, he will catch, not only the true "brown shrimp,"but other shrimp-like creatures, known as "crustacea"—agroup which includes also the lobsters, hermit-crabs,true crabs, and sand-hoppers, as well as an immensevariety of almost microscopic water-fleas.

He will also probably catch some of the stiff, queerlittle "pipe-fish," which are closely related to the littlecreatures known as "sea-horses." Pipe-fish are verysluggish in movement, almost immobile, whilst the"sea-horse" or hippocampus—only to be taken by thedredge amongst corallines in deep water on rockybottoms (as, for instance, in the Channel Islands)—goesso far as to curl his tail, like a South American monkey,round a stem of weed and sit thus upright amidst thevegetation. Even when disturbed he merely swims veryslowly and with much dignity in the same upright[Pg 78]position, gently propelled by the undulating vibratorymovement of his small dorsal fin. The male in bothpipe-fish and sea-horses is provided with a sac-likestructure on the ventral surface in which he carries theeggs laid by the female until they are hatched.

The shrimper will probably catch also some veryyoung fish fry—including young flat-fish about 2 incheslong. If he explores the exposed surface of sand nearthe low-tide limit, he will find a variety of indications ofburrowing animals hidden beneath. Little coiled masseslike the "castings" of earth-worms are very abundant inplaces, and are produced by the fisherman's sand-worm,[Pg 79]or "lug-worm" (Fig. 4, a). A vigorous digging to thedepth of a foot or two will reveal the worm itself, whichis worth bringing home in a jar of sea-water in order tosee the beautiful tufts of branched gills on the sides ofthe body, which expand and contract with the flow ofbright red blood showing through their delicate walls.Other sand-worms, from 2 to 6 inches long, will atthe same time be turned up,—worms which have somehundred or more pairs of vibrating legs, or paddles,arranged down the sides of the body, and swim with amost graceful, serpentine curving of the mobile body(Fig. 4, b). These sea-worms are but little known to mostpeople, although they are amongst the most beautifullycoloured and graceful of marine animals. Hundreds ofdifferent kinds have been distinguished and describedand pictured in their natural colours. Each leg isprovided with a bundle of bristles of remarkable shapes,resembling, when seen under a microscope, the serratedspears of South Sea Islanders and mediaeval warriors.These worms usually have (like the common earth-worm)red blood and delicate networks of blood-vessels and gills(Fig. 4, c), whilst the head is often provided with eyes andfeelers. They possess a brain and a nerve-cord like ourspinal cord, and from the mouth many of them cansuddenly protrude an unexpected muscular proboscisarmed with sharp, horny jaws, the bite of which is not tobe despised. These "bristle-worms," or "chætopods," asthey are termed by zoologists, are well worth bringinghome and observing in a shallow basin holding someclean sea-water.

At many spots on our coast (e.g. Sandown, in theIsle of Wight, and the Channel Islands) rapid diggingin the sand at the lowest tides will result in the captureof sand-eels, a bigger and a smaller kind, from 1 foot to[Pg 80]6 inches in length. These are eel-shaped, silvery fish, whichswim near the shore, but burrow into the soft sand asthe tide recedes. They are excellent eating. We usedat Sandown to make up a party of young people to digthe smaller "sand-eels," or "sand-launce." The agilityand rapid disappearance of the burrowing fish into thesand when one thought one had safely dug them out,rendered the pursuit difficult and exciting. Then awood fire on the beach, a frying-pan, fat, flour, and saltwere brought into operation, and thesand-eels were cooked to perfectionand eaten.

Some of the marks or small heapsof sand on the flats exposed at lowtide are characteristic of certain shell-fish.The "razor-fish"(Fig. 19, b)—avery much elongated clam, or mussel,with astonishing powers of rapidburrowing—leaves a hole on thesurface like a keyhole, about an inchlong. It can be dug up by anenergetic spadesman, but a spoonfulof common salt poured over the opening of its burrowwill cause it to suddenly shoot out on to the surface,when it may be picked up, and the hunter sparedany violent exertion. The curious heart-urchin (Fig. 5),as fragile as an egg-shell, and covered with long,closely-set spines like a brush, is often to be foundburrowing in the sand, as well as the transparent,pink-coloured worm known as Synapta, in the skin ofwhich are set thousands of minute calcareous anchorshinged to little sculptured plates. These burrowersswallow the sand and extract nutriment from strayorganic particles mixed in it.

The mere sand-flat of the low tide is not a badhunting ground; but the rock pools, often exposed whenthe tide is out, and the fissures in the rocks and theunder surfaces of slabs of rock revealed by turning themover—are the greatest sources of varied delight to thesea-shore naturalist. It is well to take a man with youon to these rocks to carry your collecting bottles andcans, and to turn over for you the larger slabs of loosestone, weighing as much as a couple of hundredweight.The most striking and beautiful objects in these rockpools are the sea-anemones (Fig. 6 andFrontispiece).They present themselves as disk-like flowers from 1 to 5inches in diameter, with narrow-pointed petals of everyvariety of colour, set in a circle around a coloured centre.The petals are really hollow tentacles distended with sea-water,and when anything falls on to them or touchesthem they contract and draw together towards the centre.The centre has a transverse opening in it which is themouth, and leads into a large, soft-walled stomach, separatedby its own wall from a second spacious cavity lyingbetween that wall and the body wall, and sending aprolongation into each tentacle. The stomach opensfreely at its deep end into this second "surrounding"chamber, which is divided by radiating cross walls intosmaller partitions, one corresponding to each tentacle.The nourishing results of digestion, and not the food itself,pass from the stomach into the subdivided or "septate"second chamber. There is thus only one cavityin the animal, separable into a central and a surroundingportion.

In this respect—in having only one body cavity—sea-anemonesand the coral-polyps and the jelly-fishesand the tiny freshwater polyp or hydra, and the marinecompound branching polyps like it—agree with one[Pg 82]another and differ from the vast majority of animals,such as worms, sea-urchins, star-fishes, whelks, mussels,crustaceans, insects, spiders and vertebrates (which lastinclude fish, reptiles, birds, and mammals). These allhave a second chamber, or body cavity, quite shut offfrom the digestive cavity and from the direct access ofwater and food particles. This second distinct chamberis filled with an animal fluid, the lymph, and is calledthe "Cœlom" (a Greek word meaning a cavity). Thesehigher animals, which possess a cœlom as well as a gut,or digestive cavity, are called "Cœlomata," or "Cœlomocœla,"in consequence; whilst the sea-anemones,polyps, and jelly-fish form a lower grade of animalsdevoid of cœlom, but having the one cavity, or gut,continued into all parts of the body. Hence they arecalled "Cœlentera," or "Enterocœla," words which meanthat the cavity of their bodies (Greekcœl) is made byan extension of the gut, or digestive cavity (Greekenteron). The higher grade of animals—the Cœlomocœla—veryusually have a vascular system, orblood-vessels and blood, as well as a cœlom and lymph,and quite independent of it; also some kind of kidneys,or renal excretory tubes. Neither of these are possessedby the sea-anemones and their allies—the Enterocœla—butthey have, like higher animals, a nervous system andalso large ovaries and spermaries on the walls of theirsingle body cavity, which produce their reproductivegerms. These pass to the exterior, usually through themouth, but sometimes by rupture of the body wall.

All "one-cavity" animals, the Enterocœla or Cœlentera,produce peculiar coiled-up threads in their skin ingreat quantity—many thousands—often upon specialwarts or knobs. These coiled-up threads lie each in amicroscopic sac; they are very delicate and minute[Pg 83]and carry a virulent poison, so that they are "stinging"threads. Excitement of the animal, or mere contact,causes the microscopic sac to burst, and the threadto be violently ejected. The sea-anemones, jelly-fish,and polyps feed on fresh living animals, small fish,shrimps, etc., and catch their prey by the use of thesepoisonous threads. Some jelly-fish have them bigenough to act upon the human skin, and bathers areoften badly stung by them. The commonest jelly-fishdo not sting, but where they occur a few of the stingingsort are likely to occur also. Even some sea-anemonescan sting one's hand with these stinging threads. Onesea-anemone (known as "Cerianthus"), occasionally takenin British waters, makes for itself a leathery tube bythe felting of its stinging threads, and lines its longburrow in the sand below tidal exposure in this way.

The sea-anemones are very hardy, and they arewonderfully varied and abundant on our coasts. Somesixty years ago a great naturalist, who loved the seashoreand its rock-pools enthusiastically, Mr. PhilipHenry Gosse, father of Mr. Edmund Gosse, the distinguishedman of letters, described our British sea-anemones,and gave beautiful coloured pictures of them.One of these I have taken for the frontispiece of thisvolume, and some of the outline figures of marineanimals in these chapters are borrowed from a marvelouslycomplete and valuable little book by him—nowlong out of print—entitled "Marine Zoology." His books—ofhigh scientific value—and his example, made sea-anemones"fashionable." London ladies kept marineaquariums in their drawing-rooms stocked with thesebeautiful flowers of the sea. They were exhibited inquantity at the Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park,and it is by no means a creditable thing to our London[Pg 84]zoologists that neither these nor other marine creaturesare now to be seen there. At a later date publicmarine aquaria were started with success in manyseaside towns,—Brighton, Scarborough, Southport, etc.—anda very fine one was organized in Westminster andanother at the Crystal Palace. It is an interesting andimportant fact, bearing on the psychology of the Britishpeople, that most of these charming exhibitions ofstrange and beautiful creatures from the depths of thesea were very soon neglected and mismanaged by theirproprietors; the tanks were emptied or filled with riverwater, and the halls in which they were placed werere-arranged for the exhibitions of athletes, acrobats,comic singers, and pretty dancers. These exhibitionsare often full of human interest and beauty—but Iregret the complete disappearance of the fishes andstrange submarine animals. I have some hope thatbefore long we may, at any rate in the gardens inthe Regent's Park, see really fine marine and fresh-wateraquaria established, more beautiful and varied intheir contents than those of earlier days.

There are four kinds of sea-anemones which areabundant on our coast. They adhere by a disk-likebase to the rocks and large stones, and have the powerof swelling themselves out with sea-water (as have manysoft-bodied creatures of this kind), with all their tentaclesexpanded. They have, in that condition, the shape ofsmall "Martello" towers, with their adhesive disk belowand the mouth-bearing platform above, fringed bytapering fingers; and they can, on the other hand,shrink to a fifth part of their expanded volume, drawingin and concealing their tentacles, which are in somekinds perforated at the tip. One common on the rocksat Shanklin and other parts of our South Coast, but[Pg 85]
[Pg 86]not on the East Coast, has very abundant, long, palegreen tentacles, which are tipped with a brilliant peachcolour, and it is peculiar in not being able to retract orconceal this beautiful crown of snake-like locks, remindingone of the Gorgon Medusa. It is known as Antheacereus (Fig. 6, c). Many of them are known by thename "Actinia," and the commonest of all (Fig. 6, d)is called "Actinia mesembryanthemum," because of itsresemblance to a fleshy-leaved flower of that namewhich grows on garden rockeries—sometimes called the"ice-plant." This one is of a deep maroon colour, rarelymore than an inch and a half across the disk. Theadhesive disk is often edged with bright blue, and smallspherical tentacles, of a bright blue colour, are set atintervals outside the fringe of longer red ones. Thisanemone lives wonderfully well in a small glass basinor in an aquarium holding a gallon of sea-water, whichis kept duly aerated by squirting it daily. One livedin Edinburgh for more than fifty years, in the possessionfirst of Sir John Dalyell, and then of Mr. Peach. She wasknown as "Granny," and produced many hundreds ofyoung in the course of years. This species is viviparous,the young issuing from the parent's mouth as tiny fully-formedsea-anemones, which immediately fix themselvesby their disks to the glass wall of their habitation.Anemones kept thus in small aquaria have to becarefully fed; bits of the sea mussel (of course, uncooked)are the best food for them. This and manyother kinds are not absolutely stationary, but can veryslowly crawl by means of muscular movements of theadhesive disk. There are kinds of sea-anemones knownwhich spend their lives floating in the ocean; they are thinand flat. Others adhere to the shells of hermit crabs andeven to the big claws of some crabs, and profit by the"crumbs" of food let fall by the nippers of their host.[Pg 87]A very handsome and large sea-anemone is commonon the East Coast, and is known as "crassicornis" (itsgeneric name is Bunodes). When distended it measuresas much as 4 inches across (Fig. 6, b). I have oneat this moment before me, expanded in a bowl of sea-water.The tentacles are pale green or grey, bandedwith deep red, and the body is blotched with irregularpatches of red, green, and orange. It attaches finepebbles and bits of shell to the surface of the body.

A VERY beautiful kind of sea-anemone (common atFelixstowe) is the Daisy or Sagartia troglodytes,(Fig. 6, a), which has a very long body attached to arock or stone far below the sandy floor of the pool, onthe level of which it expands its thin, long, ray-liketentacles, coloured dark brown and white, and sometimesorange-yellow. As soon as you touch it it disappearsinto the sand, and is very difficult to dig out. Themost beautifully coloured of all sea-anemones are thelittle Corynactids (half an inch across), which you mayfind dotted about like jewels, each composed of emerald,ruby, topaz, and creamy pink and lilac, on the undersurface of slabs of rock at very low tide in theChannel Islands. One of the most puzzling facts innatural history is that these lovely little things livein the dark. No eye, even of fish or crab, has everseen what you see when you turn over that stone. Itis a simple demonstration of the truth of the poetGray's statement, that many a gem of purest ray sereneis concealed in the dark, unfathomed depths of ocean!A splendid anemone is the Weymouth Dianthus (seethefrontispiece of this volume), so named because it isdredged up in Weymouth Bay. It is often six incheslong, and has its very numerous, small tentacles arrangedin lobes, or tufts, around the mouth. It is either of a[Pg 89]uniform bright salmon-yellow colour or pure white.When kept in an aquarium it fixes itself by its diskon the glass wall, and often, as it slowly moves, allowspieces of the disk to become torn off and remain stickingto the glass. These detached pieces develop tentaclesand a mouth, and grow to be small and ultimately full-sizedWeymouth anemones.

If the disk were spread out and gave rise to littleanemones without tearing—so that they remained incontinuity with the parent—we should get a compositeor compound animal, made up of many anemones, allconnected at the base. This actually happens in awhole group of polyps resembling the sea-anemones.They grow into "stocks," "tree-like" or "encrusting"masses, consisting of hundreds and even thousands ofindividuals, each with its mouth and tentacles, but withtheir inner cavities and bases united. These are the"coral polyps," or "coral-insects" of old writers, of somany varied kinds. One further feature of great importancein a "coral" is the production of a hard deposit ofcalcite, or limestone, which is thrown down by the surfaceof the adhesive disk, and is also formed in deep,radiating "pockets," pushed in to the soft animal fromthe disk. The hard deposit of calcite is continuousthroughout the "stock," or "tree," and when the soft sea-anemone-likeanimals die, the hard, white matter is left,and is called "coral." Very commonly this white coralshows star-like cups on its surface, which correspond tothe lower ends or disks of the soft sea-anemone-likecreatures which deposited the hard coral. In a lesscommon group (represented commonly on our coast bythe so-called "Dead men's fingers" found growing onthe overhanging edges of low-tide rocks) the hard coralmaterial does not form cups for the minute sea-anemones[Pg 90]which secrete it, but takes the form of a supportingcentral or axial rod (sea-pens), or branched tree (sea-bushes),upon which the fleshy mass of polyps aretightly set. This is the case with the precious red andpink coral of the Mediterranean (which is now being"undersold" actually in the Mediterranean markets bya similar red coral from Japan, usually offered as thegenuine article, which it is not!).

On the British coast you do not, as a rule, findcoral-forming polyps. A small kind, consisting of twoor three yellow and orange-red anemone-polyps unitedand producing a small group of hard calcite cups(Caryophyllia and Balanophyllia) is not uncommon atPlymouth at a few fathoms depth. But you have to goto the Norwegian fiords or else far out to sea where youhave 300 fathoms of sea-water in order to get reallyluxuriant white corals—the beautiful Lophohelia (Fig. 3, p. 9),which I used to dredge in the Nord Fiord nearStavanger, as branching, shrub-like masses of a foot cubein area, each white marble cup standing out from thestem, an inch long and two-thirds of an inch across, andthe stems giving support to a whole host of clinginggrowths (among them Rhabdopleura!) and shelteringwonderful deep-water worms and starfish.

But these, beautiful as they are, are nothing, so faras mass and dominating vigour of growth are concerned,in comparison with the reef-building corals of the warmseas of the tropics. There these lime-secreting conglomeratedsea-anemones separate annually hundreds oftons of solid calcite per square mile of sea bottom fromthe sea-water, and build up reefs, islands, and hugecliffs of coral rock. They get the calcite—as docalcareous seaweeds and shell-making clams, oysters,[Pg 91]whelks, and microscopic chalk-makers—from the sea—thewater of the sea which always has it ready in solutionfor their use. And the sea gets it from the rivers andstreams which wear away and dissolve the old limestonedeposits now raised into mountain chains, as well as byitself dissolving again in due course what living creatureshave so carefully separated from it. Sea water or freshwater with a little carbonic acid gas dissolved in itdissolves limestone and chalk—it becomes what we call"hard." Neutralize the dissolved carbonic acid (as isdone in the well-known Clark's process for softeningwater), and down falls the dissolved calcite as a finewhite sediment. These alternating processes of solutionand "precipitation" are always going on in the watersof the earth and sea.

The name "jelly-fish" has reference to the colourless,transparent, soft, and jelly-like substance of the bodies ofthe animals to which it is applied. There are a numberof marine animals, besides the common jelly-fish, belongingto different classes, which are glass-like in transparencyand colourless—so as to be nearly or quiteinvisible in clear water, and some, too, occur in freshwaters (larvæ of gnats, notably of the plume-horned gnatCorethra). The transparency of these animals servesthem in two different ways—some are enabled by it toescape from predatory enemies; others, on the contrary,are enabled to approach their own prey without beingobserved. The latter was obviously the case with thelittle fresh-water jelly-fish which appeared in greatabundance some years ago in the lily tank in Regent'sPark. The water was full of small water-fleas (minutecrustacea), and the little jelly-fish, if removed from thetank and placed in a tall glass jar filled with the tankwater, spent its whole time in swimming upwards to the[Pg 92]surface by the alternate contraction and expansion of itsdisk-like body, and then dropping gently through thefull length of the jar to the bottom, when it wouldagain mount. On the downward journey—owing to itstransparency—it would encounter unsuspecting, jerkily-movingwater-fleas, unwarned by any shadow cast bythe impending glass-like monster of half an inch inbreadth slowly approaching from above; and as soon asthey touched it they were paralysed (by microscopicpoison-threads like those of the sea-anemones), and weregrasped and swallowed by the mobile transparentproboscis (like that of an elephant, though certainlysmaller, and having the mouth opening at its end,instead of a nostril), which hangs from the centre of thedisk-like jelly-fish.[2]

There are some glass-like transparent creatures,including some small fishes, which live at 500 fathomsdepth and a good deal deeper on the sea bottom. Weknow that the sun's light does not penetrate below 200fathoms, so that one is led to ask—What is the good ofbeing transparent if you live at the bottom of the sea,at a greater depth than this? There is also a verybeautiful prawn, which I dredged in Norway in 200fathoms, which looks like a solid piece of clearest,colourless glass. And then there are some very beautifullittle stalked creatures (called Clavellina), fixed tothe under-side of rocks in the tidal zone, which areabsolutely like drops of solid glass an inch long. Onecannot easily imagine how colourless transparency canbe of "life-saving value" to these varied inhabitants ofthe dark places of the sea bottom—any more than we[Pg 93]can assign any life-saving value to the brilliant, gem-likecolouring of some of the sea-anemones which live inthe dark on the under-surface of rocks.

The most probable view of the matter is thatneither the colourless transparency of the one set northe brilliant colouring of the other has any value; itjust happens to be so, and is not harmful. So, forinstance, some crystals are colourless, some blue orgreen or yellow or red, without any advantage to them!On the other hand, we know that a large number ofthe animals which live in the dark unfathomed depthsthemselves produce light, that is to say, are phosphorescent,and it seems probable that at great depths, thoughthere is no sunlight, the sea bottom is illuminated—wecan only vaguely guess to what degree—by the strangeliving lanterns—fish, crustaceans, worms, and even microscopiccreatures—which move about in quest of their food,carrying their own searchlight with them. Another suggestionis that the eyes of these inhabitants of the darkmay be more sensitive than our own, and even be affectedby rays invisible to us. This, however, is not probable,since whilst there are among them some with enormouseyes, we find that at the greatest depths (2 to 4miles) even the fishes have no eyes at all, and at adepth of a mile there are many shrimp-like creaturesin which the eyes have been completely transformedinto peculiar "feelers," or otherwise aborted. So thatwe cannot suppose there is a possibility of developingthe eye of the dwellers in deep-sea darkness to a degreeof sensitiveness greatly beyond that of terrestrial animals.A limit of obscurity is reached at which it is of no usehaving an eye at all, and eyes cease to have life-savingvalue, and accordingly are not maintained by naturalselection.

The transparency and colourlessness of marineanimals which float near the surface is, on the otherhand, obviously useful, and to this group our jelly-fishesbelong. Not only do they escape observation by theirtransparency and general absence of colour, but someactually have a blue transparent colouring which blendswith the blue colour of the sea. Such are the gas-holding,bladder-like sac as large as your fist calledthe "Portuguese man-of-war," and the little sailingVelella, both of which float, and even protrude abovethe surface, so as to catch the wind. Others are onlysemi-transparent, and othersare marked with strong red,brown, or yellow streaks.Many of the smallest kindsof jelly-fish have eyes whichare bright red in colour.

The animals to which thename "jelly-fishes" is nowmore or less strictly appliedare (as that fine zoologistAristotle knew) in their structureclosely similar to thesea-anemones, but even simpler. They are called theMedusæ by naturalists. Their disk-like bodies arelargely formed by a jelly-like material, on the surfaceof which are stretched delicate transparent skin, nerves,and delicate muscles, whilst in the middle of the disk,on the surface which faces downwards as the creaturefloats, is the mouth, leading into a relatively smallpouched cavity excavated in the jelly, from which adelicate system of canals is given off, and radiates inthe jelly of the disk. There is, as in the sea-anemones,only one continuous cavity. The edge of the disk isbeset with fine, sensitive tentacles, sometimes many feet[Pg 95]in length, and the lips of the mouth are often drawnout into a sort of depending trunk, or into four largetapering lobes or lips of jelly, which, with the longertentacles, are used for seizing prey. The commonestjelly-fish on our coast—so common as to be "the" jelly-fishpar excellence—is often to be seen left on the sandsby the receding tide or slowly swimming in quiet, clearwater at the mouth of a river in enormous numbers.It is known as "Aurelia" (Fig. 7). It is as big as acheese-plate, and the four pouches connected with thestomach are coloured pink or purple, and appear in themiddle of the circular plate of jelly, like a small Maltesecross. The reproductive particles (germ-cells and sperm-cells)are produced in that coloured region, and escape bythe mouth. There is a fringe of fine, very short tentaclesround the edge of the disk, and they, as well as the greatlobes of the mouth, are provided with innumerable coiled-upstinging hairs or "thread-cells," similar to those of thesea-anemones, which led Aristotle to call both groups"sea-nettles." Eight stalked eyes are set at equal intervalsaround the disk.

Usually accompanying the floating crowd of thecommon and abundant Aurelia are a few specimensof a very unpleasant kind of Medusa of a turbid appearance,often called "slime balls" by fishermen, fromsix inches to a foot in diameter. It is known tonaturalists by the name "Cyanæa capillata." Thetentacles on the edge of the disk of this kind of jelly-fishare very long and elastic, stretching to several feet,even yards, in length, and are provided with verypowerful stinging hairs. The tentacles not infrequentlybecome coiled around the body of a bather; the stinginghairs are shot out of the little sacs in which they arerolled up, and the result may be very painful to the[Pg 96]person stung in this way and even dangerous. Thereare two other common large jelly-fish on the Englishcoast, one called "Chrysaora"(Fig. 8), with a wheel-likepattern of brown pigment onthe disk, and the other withthe mouth lobes very largeand bound together like acolumn.

The common Aurelia isremarkable for the fact thatthe young which hatch fromits eggs attach themselves tostones and rocks on the seabottom, and grow into littlewhite tube-like polyps, abouthalf an inch long, quite unliketheir parent, with a crown ofsmall tentacles surroundingthe mouth, whilst they arefixed by the opposite end ofthe body. Then a verycurious thing happens. Thelittle polyp becomes nippedat intervals across its length,so that it looks like a pile ofsaucers—a dozen or more.And then the top saucerswims away as a minutejelly-fish, the next follows,and so on, so that, in thecourse of an hour or two,the whole pile separates into a number of freelyswimming young, each of which gradually grows into a[Pg 97]full-sized Aurelia. I have only once had the chance ofwitnessing this beautiful sight, and that was many yearsago in a tank at the Zoological Gardens (they have nosuch tanks now), where the polyp-like young (called"Hydra tuba") spontaneously put in an appearance, andproceeded to break up into piles of little disks, whichseparated and swam off as one watched them. TheFrench poet, Catulle Mendés, imagined a world wherethe flowers flew about freely and the butterflies werefixed to stalks. His fancy is to some degree realizedby the swimming away of the young jelly-fish from theirstalks. There are a host of very minute jelly-fish,measuring when full grown only half an inch or less indiameter. They originate as buds from small branchingpolyps, one kind of which is common on oyster-shells,and is called "the herring-bone coralline." The driedskins of these coralline polyps (which are horny) areoften to be picked up with masses of seaweed on theseashore after a storm. The little jelly-fish are the ripeindividuals of the polyps, and produce eggs and spermwhich grow to be polyp-trees. These, again, aftergrowing and branching as polyps, give rise to littlejelly-fish here and there on the tree, which in mostkinds (though not in all) break off and swim awayfreely.

WE have no word in English to indicate the variedcrab-and-shrimp-like creatures of salt and freshwaters in the same way as "insect" designates the six-legged,usually winged, terrestrial creatures of manykinds—beetles, bees, bugs, two-winged flies, dragonflies,day-flies, and butterflies. They are all "insects."Naturalists call the aquatic shrimp-and-crab creatures"crustaceans." Perhaps "crab" might be used in alarge sense to include them all, together with the truecrabs, as the Germans use their word, "krebs." Theshore-crab is the most familiar of all crustaceans, in theliving, moving condition. Boiled lobsters, prawns, andshrimps are more generally familiar members of theclass, but the "undressed" living crab is better knownto every one who has been on the seashore than the livelobster, prawn, and shrimp. Londoners have been heardto express interest in the curious blue variety of lobstercaught on the coast, not being aware that the hot bathwhich he takes before he, too, is "dressed," causes hisblue armour to change its colour to a brilliant scarlet.Occasionally a regular ordinary lobster is caught inwhich this change has occurred during life in the sea—andthere are some enormous deep-sea prawns of apound in weight which when living have a splendidcrimson colour. A large series of "crustaceans," carefully[Pg 99]prepared so as to show their natural colours in life, isexhibited in the Natural History Museum in CromwellRoad.

A curious kind of prawn (by name Althea rubra),of fair size, is found under "the low-tide rocks" in theChannel Islands, which not only is of a deep crimsoncolour, but snaps his fingers at you—or rather one ofhis fingers—or claws—when you try to catch him, makinga loud crack audible at ten yards distance. Thecommon big prawn, if you see him in a large vessel ofsea-water with the light shining through him, appearsvery brilliantly marked with coloured bands and spots—reddish-brown,blue, and yellow—which are displayed ona transparent, almost colourless surface. Of course,boiling turns him pale red. A common smaller speciesof prawn when boiled is often sold as "pink shrimps,"and lately a deep-sea prawn—a third species—has comefrom the Norwegian coast into the London market.There are many kinds which are not abundant enoughto become "marketable." Prawns are at once distinguishedfrom the true "brown shrimp" by having thefront end of the body drawn out into a sharp-toothedspine, which is absent in the shrimp. Besides theprawns (Palæmon and Pandalus), the shrimp (Crangon),and the common lobster (Homarus), you may see in theLondon fish shops the large spiny lobster (Palinurus)called "langouste" by the French, and apparentlypreferred by them as a table delicacy to the commonlobster, although it has no claws. It used to be called"craw-fish" or "sea craw-fish" in London; why, I am unableto say. The name was certainly bad, as it leads toconfusion with the cray-fish, the fresh-water lobster ofBritish and all European rivers (there are many other kindsof fresh-water lobsters in other parts of the world, as well[Pg 100]as fresh-water prawns and crabs), whose English name is acurious corruption of the French one, "écrevisse" (cray-vees,cray-fish). Another lobster of our markets is thelittle one known as the "Dublin prawn," which iscommon enough on the Scotch and Norwegian coasts, aswell as that of Ireland. Naturalists distinguish it asNephrops Norvegicus. The great edible crab completesthe list of British marketable crustaceans, but in ParisI have eaten, as well as at Barcelona, a very largeMediterranean prawn, three times as big as our biggestIsle of Wight prawns, but by no means so good. It iscalled "Barcelona prawn" and "Langostino" ("Penæus"by naturalists). In Madrid I have seen in the fish shopsand eaten yet another crustacean—a very curious one—namely,a long-stalked rock-barnacle of the kind knownto naturalists as Pollicipes.

That the barnacles—ship's barnacles (Fig. 10) andwith them the little sea-acorns (Fig. 11), those terriblyhard and sharp little white "pimples" which cover therocks nearly everywhere just below high-tide mark, andhave so cruelly lacerated the hands and shins of all ofus who swim and have had to return to a rocky shorein a lively sea—should be included with crabs, lobsters,and shrimps as "crustaceans" must appear astonishingto every one who hears it for the first time. The extraordinarilyignorant, yet in their own estimation learned,fishermen of the Scottish coast will tell you with solemnassurance that the ubiquitous encrusting sea-acorns arethe young of the limpet, whilst the creature living insidethe shell of the long-stalked ship's barnacles has forages been discoursed of by the learned as one of themarvels of the sea—nothing more or less than a youngbird—the young, in fact, of a goose—the barnacle goosewhich, since it was thus proved to be a fish in origin,[Pg 101]was allowed to be eaten by good Catholics on fast days!Two hundred years or more ago this story was discreditedby serious naturalists, but the barnacles and sea-acornswere thought (even by the great Cuvier) to beof the nature of oysters, mussels, and clams (Molluscs),because of their possessing white hard shells in the formof "valves" and plates, which can open and shut like thoseof mussels. Their true history and nature were shownabout eighty years ago by a great discoverer of newthings concerning marine creatures, Dr. VaughanThompson, who was Army Medical Inspector at Cork,and studied these and other animals found in the watersof Queenstown Harbour.

The crab class, or Crustacea, have, like the insects,centipedes, spiders, and scorpions, a body built up ofsuccessive rings or segments. The earth-worms (as everyone knows) and marine bristle-bearing worms also showthis feature in the simplest and most obvious way. Thevertebrates, with their series of vertebræ or backbone-piecesand the body muscles attached ring-wise to them,show the same condition. The marine worms havea soft skin and a pair of soft paddle-like legs uponeach ring of the body, often to the number of a hundredsuch pairs. But the crab class and the classes calledinsects, centipedes, arachnids, and millipedes are remarkablefor the hard, firm skin, or "cuticle," which is formedon the surface of their bodies and of their legs, which, asin the marine worms, are present—a pair to each body-ringor segment—often along the whole length of thebody as in centipedes. This hard cuticle is impregnatedwith lime in the bigger members of the crabclass, such as the lobster. It is not equally thick andhard all over the surface of the lobster, but is separatedby narrow bands of thin, soft cuticle into a number of[Pg 102]harder pieces, thus rendered capable of being bent or"flexed" on one another. Thus the body is jointed intoa series of rings, and the legs are also divided each intoseveral joints (as many as seven), which gives themflexibility and so usefulness of various kinds. Thevarious joints are "worked" by powerful muscles, whichare fixed internally to the cuticle and pass from one hardring or segment, whether of body or of leg, to a neighbouringring.

Every one knows the structure of a lobster's tail andof its legs, which can be readily examined in illustrationof my statement, and the same structure can be seen inthe leg of a beetle or a fly. Naturalists term all thisseries of creatures with hard-jointed cuticle, to which themuscles are attached, including the crab class, the insects,centipedes, spiders, and scorpions, "jointed-leg owners,"or Arthropods. It is easy to appreciate this characteristicdifference which separates the Arthropods from otheranimals. The sea-worms differ from them, in that theyhave soft cuticle, but stiffen and render their paddle-likelegs firm by squeezing the liquid of the body into themin the same sort of way as the sea-anemones distendtheir tentacles with liquid, though in that case the liquidis sea-water taken in by the mouth. The Molluscs alsodistend their muscular lobe, or "foot" as it is called, bypressing the blood from the rest of the body into it, andso making it swell and become stiff, so that the musclescan work it; when not distended in that way it is flaccid.The Vertebrates (bony animals) and the star-fishes haveagain another and peculiar mechanism. Their musclesare attached to hard internal pieces, sometimes cartilaginousbut often calcareous or bony, which are spoken ofas "the internal skeleton." There are thus three distinctkinds of mechanism in animals for giving the necessary[Pg 103]resisting surfaces, hinged or jointed to one another, andmade to "play" one on the other by the alternatecontraction and relaxation of the muscles attached tothem.

The Arthropods differ among themselves in thenumber of body-rings, the enlargement or dwindling ofcertain rings, and the fusion of a larger or smaller numberof the rings to form a composite head, or a jointless mid-bodyor hind-body. The successive legs are primarilyand essentially like to one another, and each body-ring,with its pair of legs, is but a repetition of its fellows. Atthe same time, in the different classes included as"Arthropoda" a good deal of difference has been attainedin the structure of the legs, and they have in each classa different form and character in successive regions ofthe body, distinctive of the class, and are sometimes, butnot always, absent from many of the hinder rings. Allthese Arthropods agree in having a leg on each sideimmediately behind the mouth—belonging to a body-ring,which is fused with others to form the head—veryspecially shortened, of great strength and firmness, andshaped so as to be pulled by a powerful muscle attachedto it, against its fellow of the opposite side, which issimilarly pulled. These two stumpy legs form thus apowerful pair of nippers called "the mandibles." Theyare jaws, although they were in the ancestors of theArthropods merely legs. These jaw-legs, or leg-jaws, arecharacteristic of all the crab class, as well as of the otherArthropods, but no bristle-worm or other animal hasthem. The jaws of marine worms are of a totallydifferent nature. So are the jaws of snails, whelks, andcuttle-fish. Many of the crab class have not one only,but several, pairs of legs following the mouth convertedinto jaws. Thus, if you examine a big shore-crab, or,[Pg 104]better, an edible crab, and a lobster, and a large prawn,you will find that they all have five pairs of legs convertedinto short foliaceous jaws (hence called "foot-jaws"),and overlying the first very strong pair, ormandibles.

Following these "foot-jaws" you find in a crabor a lobster the great nipping claws and the four largewalking legs—the same in proportion and shape in crab,lobster, and prawn, much bigger than the foot-jaws. Butthe curious thing is that if you set them out and carefullycompare them (for they are not simple jointed limbs, buteach has two or even three diverging stems carried on abasal joint), you will find a strange and fascinating"likeness in unlikeness," or an agreement of the parts ofwhich they are built, and yet a difference between allof them.

The rings of the body to which the jaw-legs and legsare attached are fused into one unjointed piece. Thespine in front of the mouth and the support of the eyesand the feelers or "antennæ" are fused with that piece.It forms on the back a great shield—often called "thehead"—which overhangs and is bent down over the sidesof this region, so as to protect the gills, which you cansee by cutting away the overhanging flap.

Following on the jaw-legs or foot-jaws and walking-legs,in the three crustaceans we are looking at, comes thejointed tail or hind-body, consisting of seven pieces.The first five rings of the tail have smallY-shapedlegs, a pair to each ring. They are called "swimmerets,"whilst the sixth has legs of the same shape, but verylarge and flat. In the middle between these large flatlegs is the last ring, which has no legs, but is perforated[Pg 105]by the opening of the intestine. You will see if youcompare the crab and the lobster (or the prawn, whichis very much like the lobster), that the crab has theso-called head (really head and mid-body combined)drawn out from side to side, so as to make it muchwider than it is long. And, moreover, the jointed tail orhind-body seems at first sight to be absent in the crab.But if you turn the crab (a dead one) on his back, youwill find that he has a complete tail, on the whole likethat of the lobster, but pointed and bent forwards, andclosely packed under the fused head and mid-body in agroove, from which you can raise it and turn it back.

We have not yet done with the various forms[Pg 106]assumed by the legs of our three crustaceans—for,actually in front of the mouth, there are two pairs ofpeculiarly altered legs. Originally in crab-ancestors, andat the present day in the very minute young stage ofgrowth called "the Nauplius" (Fig. 9), the mouth wasnot behind these two front pairs. It has sunk back as itwere, gradually moved so as to leave the legs in front ofit. As we now see them in the crab, lobster, and prawn,the two pairs of legs in front of the mouth are jointedfilamentous things—the feelers or antennæ—very longin prawns and lobsters, short in crabs. In the ancestors ofcrabs, lobsters, and prawns these feelers were undoubtedlyswimming legs. In the "nauplius" stage (Fig. 9) ofsome prawns, and in many minute crustaceans often called"water-fleas," we find these feelers not acting as meresensory organs of touch, but relatively strong and large,with powerful muscles, striking the water and making thelittle creatures bound or jump through it in jerks.

It has been discovered that in the growth from theegg of many crustaceans the young hatches out as a"nauplius" with only three pairs of legs. The front twopairs later gradually grow to be the feelers, the third pairbecome eventually the mandibles or first pair of jaw-legs.These legs all present themselves at first as active, powerfulswimming "oars," beset with peculiar feathery hairs andnot in the shape which they later acquire. The kite-shapednauplius baby-phase, smaller than a small flea, with its threepairs of violently jerking legs, is a very important littlebeast. It is the existence of this young stage in the growthof barnacles and sea-acorns which has demonstrated thatthey are crustaceans, that is to say, belong to the crab class.The fixed shell-like barnacles and sea-acorns hatch fromtheir eggs each as a perfect little "nauplius," like thatdrawn in Fig. 9. They swim about with jerking move[Pg 107]mentscaused by the strokes of the two front legs and ofthe pair which will become the mandibles. Their limbshave the special form and are beset with the feather-likehairs, and the whole creature has the kite-like shape—characteristicof the nauplius young of other Crustacea.They are indeed indistinguishable from those young.Whilst it was the Army doctor, Vaughan Thompson,who discovered that barnacles are strangely altered"shrimps," it was Darwin who made one of the mostinteresting discoveries about them—a discovery of whichhe was always, and rightly, very proud—as I will explainin the next chapter.

THE ship's barnacle looks at first, when you seeone of a group of them hanging from a piece offloating timber, like a little smooth, white bivalve shell,as big as your thumb-nail, at the end of a thickish,worm-like stalk, from one to ten inches long (Fig. 10).But you will soon see that there are not only two valvesto the white shell, but three smaller ones as well as thetwo principal ones. This does not separate them altogetherfrom the bivalve-shelled molluscs (mussels, clams,oysters), for the bivalve molluscs, which bore in stoneand clay, have small extra shelly plates, besides the twochief ones, whilst the Teredo, or ship's worm—a truebivalve mollusc—has an enormously long, worm-likebody which favours a comparison with it of the long-stalkedbarnacle. If a group of barnacles is floatingattached to a piece of timber undisturbed in a tank ofsea-water you will see the little shells gape, and frombetween them a bunch of curved, many-jointed feelerswill issue and make a succession of grasping or clawingmovements, as though trying to draw something into theshell, which, in fact, is what they are doing—namely,industriously raking the water on the chance of bringingsome particle of food to the mouth which lies within theshell (Fig. 10).

It is not every one who has the chance of seeing[Pg 110]living ship's barnacles (Lepas), but anyone can pick upa stone or bit of rock on the seashore with live sea-acornsor acorn-barnacles (Balanus) adherent to it. Each islike a little truncated volcano (Fig. 11), the sides ofwhich correspond to the pair of larger shells of the ship'sbarnacle, fused together and grown into a cone-like wall.The acorn-barnacle has no stalk, but adheres by itsbroad base to the stone. Just within the shelly craterare four small hinged plates or valves in pairs, identicalwith the smaller shelly bits of the ship'sbarnacle. When you first see yourspecimen, the valves are tightly closed.After a few minutes in a glass of sea-waterthey open right and left, and upjumps—jack-in-the-box-wise—a tuft ofbowing and scraping feelers or tentacles,like those of the ship's barnacle. Ifdisturbed, they shoot inwards, and thevalves close on them like a spring trapdoor.

Now, these clawing, feathery littleplumes are found, when we examinethem with a hand-glass, to be six pairs in number, andeach of them isY-shaped, like the swimmerets of alobster. The arms of theY are built up of manylittle joints and covered with coarse hairs. As a resultof the study of the young condition of the ship'sbarnacle and the sea-acorn, we find that these six pairsofY-shaped plumes are six pairs of legs correspondingto those of the mid-body (some of the walking legs andsome of the foot-jaws) of the lobster, and that the shellyhinged plates of the barnacles correspond to the overhangingsides of the "head" of the lobster and prawn,[Pg 111]which one can imagine to be hinged along a line runningdown the back so as to open like the covers of a book.There are very common little, free-swimming "water-fleas"(minute crustaceans) of many hundreds of kindswhich have hinged shells of this description when in thefull-grown condition, and it is found that the youngbarnacles and sea-acorns pass through a free-swimmingphase of growth (the Cyprid stage), in which they greatlyresemble these "water-fleas."

In fact, it is quite easy to hatch the young from theeggs of either ship's barnacles or acorn-barnacles at theright season of the year. They commence life as do somany Crustacea—in the "nauplius state," with three pairsof jerking limbs (Fig. 9). As they grow the overhangingpair of shells, delicate and transparent, appear; the threepairs of nauplius legs lose their swimming power; themost anterior (always called antennules in all crustaceans)become elongated and provided each with an adhesivesucker, on the face of which a large cement gland opens,secreting abundant adhesive cement; the second pair(antennæ) shrivel and disappear altogether; the thirdpair lose their long blades for striking the water andremain as simple, but strong, stumps—the mandibles!Two new pairs of little jaw-feet appear behind these,and farther back on the now enlarged body (the wholecreature is not bigger than a small canary seed!) sixpairs ofY-shaped legs appear and strike the waterrhythmically, so that the little creature swims with somesobriety. The region to which these legs are attachedis marked with rings or segments, and behind it followsa small, limbless, hind body of four segments, or joints,ending with two little hairy prongs like a pitchfork.The right and left movable, shell-like fold, or downgrowth,of the sides of the body encloses the whole[Pg 112]creature except the protruding antennules with theirsuckers.

In this condition it swims about for a time, and then,once for all, fixes itself by means of the suckers and theirabundant cement, on to rock, stone, or floating wood—andthere remains for the rest of its life (Fig. 12). Itincreases enormously in size, the delicate transparentshell develops into hard calcareous plates, opening andshutting on the hinge-line of the back. In the stalkedkinds a peculiar elongated growth of an inch or severalinches in length takes place between the mouth and thefixed suckers of the antennules (Figs. 10 and 12); in theshort, so-called, "acorn" kinds, this stalk does not form, buta separate part of the shell grows into a ring-like protective[Pg 113]wall or cone. The creature is thus actually fastened byits head—"upside down, with its legs sticking up" notin the air, but in the water. Those six pairs ofY-shapedlegs, though no longer enabling the barnacle to swim,increase in relative size, and keep up their active movements.It is they which emerge like a plume when thevalves of the shell open and carry on the rhythmicbowing and scraping movement described above.

The barnacles have, in fact, undergone a transformationwhich may be compared to that experienced by aman who should begin life as an active boy runningabout as others do, but be compelled suddenly by somestrange spell or Arabian djin to become glued by thetop of his head to the pavement, and to spend his timein kicking his food into his mouth with his legs. Suchis the fate of the barnacles, and it is as strange andexceptional amongst crustaceans as it would be amongstmen. Indeed, to "earn a living" human acrobats willsubmit to something very much like it. It is this changefrom the life of a free-living shrimp to that of a livinglump, adherent by its head to rocks or floating logs,that Vaughan Thompson in 1830 discovered to be thestory of every barnacle, and so showed that they werereally good crustaceans gone wrong, and not molluscs.It is a curious fact that the young ascidian or sea-squirtwhich swims freely and has the shape of a tadpole, alsowhen very young fixes itself by the top of its head to arock or piece of seaweed, and remains immovable for therest of its life. Though agreeing in their strange fixationby the head, the barnacle and the ascidian are very differentkinds of animals. (For some account of the Ascidian thereader may consult the chapter "Tadpoles of the Sea" in"Science from an Easy Chair," Second Series. Methuen,1912.)

The name "Cirripedes" is commonly used for theorder or group formed by the barnacles—in allusion tothe plume-like appearance of their "raking" legs. Stalkedbarnacles often are found in the ocean attached to floatingpumice-stone, and one species has been discoveredattached to the web of the foot of a sea-bird. They, likemany other creatures, benefit by being carried far andwide by floating objects. Whales have very large andsolid acorn-barnacles peculiar to them, fixed deeply intheir skin. Others attach themselves to marine turtles.

With few exceptions the crustaceans are of separatesexes, male and female. But in nearly all classes ofanimals we find some kinds, even whole orders, in whichthe ovaries and spermaries are present in one and thesame individual. "Monœcious" or "one-housed"—thatis to say, possessing one house or individual for bothovaries and spermaries—is the proper word for thiscondition, but a usual term for it is "hermaphrodite.""Diœcious" is the term applied to animals or plants inwhich there are two kinds of individuals—one to carrythe spermaries, the male, and the other to carry theovaries, the female. It is probable that the monœciouscondition has preceded the diœcious in all but unicellularanimals. In vertebrate animals as high as the frogs andthe toads we find rudimentary ovaries in the male, andin individual cases both ovaries and spermaries are welldeveloped. Such a condition is not rare as an individualabnormality in fishes. In some common species of sea-perch(Serranus) and others it is not an exception butthe rule.

Many groups of molluscs are monœcious, and it isnot in any way astonishing to find a group of crustaceanswhich are so. The Cirripedes or barnacles are[Pg 115]an example. It is probable that the presence of ovariesand spermaries in the same individual—the monœciouscondition—is an advantage to immovable fixed animals.During the voyage of the "Beagle," and making use onhis return of the collections then obtained, Darwincarried out a very thorough study of the Cirripedes ofall kinds from all parts of the world. He worked outtheir anatomy minutely, classified the 300 different kindsthen known, and described many new kinds. Thestalked barnacles often occur in groups, the individualsbeing of different ages and sizes, the small young onessometimes fixing themselves by their sucker-bearingheads to the stalks of their well-grown relatives. In allthe varied kinds studied by Darwin he found that thefull-grown individuals were monœcious—that is, of combinedsex—as was known to be the case in those studiedbefore his day. But Darwin made the remarkablediscovery that in two kinds of stalked barnacles (notthe common ship's barnacles), comprising several species,"dwarf males" were present perched upon the edge ofthe shell of the large monœcious (bi-sexual) individuals.These dwarf males were from one-tenth to one-twentieththe length of the large normal monœcious individuals,but usually possessed the characteristic details of theshell-valves and other features of the latter.

This existence of a sort of supernumerary diminutivekind of male as an accompaniment to a race of normalmonœcious individuals was quite a new thing whenDarwin discovered it. That all the males in somediœcious animals are minute as compared with thefemales was known, and has been established in the caseof some parasitic crustaceans, in some of the wheel-animalcules,and in the most exaggerated degree in thecurious worms, Bonellia and Hamingia. But the exist[Pg 116]enceof "complemental males," as Darwin called them,existing apparently in order to fertilize the eggs shouldthey escape fertilization by the ordinary monœciousindividuals, was a new thing. And it was doubted anddisputed when Darwin described his observations fifty-sixyears ago. They were, in fact, by many regardedas a distinct species parasitic upon the larger barnacleson which they were found until Darwin's conclusion asto their nature was confirmed by the report of Dr. Hoek,on the barnacles brought home by the "Challenger"expedition.

It is an interesting fact that recent studies haveshown that in some of the barnacles with dwarf males(species of Scalpellum) the large individuals are nolonger monœcious, but have become purely females,whilst in some other species dwarf males have beendiscovered which have rudimentary ovaries. Thus weget gradations leading from one extreme case to theother. Darwin always felt confidence in his originalobservations on this matter, and was proportionatelydelighted when, after thirty years, his early work wasproved to be sound. In the Natural History Museumat the Darwin centenary in 1909, a temporary exhibitionof specimens, note-books, and letters associated withDarwin's work, was brought together. His original specimensand drawings of Cirripedes and of the wonderfullittle "complemental males" of the barnacles were placedon view.

THE curious belief, widely spread in former ages—thatthe creatures (described in the last chapter)called "barnacles" or "ship's barnacles"—often foundattached in groups to pieces of floating timber in thesea as well as fixed to the bottoms of wooden ships—arethe young of a particular kind of goose called "thebarnacle goose," which is supposed to hatch out of thewhite shell of the long-stalked barnacle, is a veryremarkable example of the persistence of a traditionwhich is entirely fanciful. It was current in WesternEurope for six or seven centuries, and was discussed,refuted, and again attested by eminent authorities evenas late as the foundation of the Royal Society—the firstpresident of which, Sir Robert Moray, read a paper atone of the earliest meetings of the society in 1661, inwhich he described the bird-like creature which he hadobserved within the shell of the common ship's barnacle,and favoured the belief that a bird was really in thisway produced by a metamorphosis of the barnacle.

The story was ridiculed and rejected by no less aphilosopher than Roger Bacon in the thirteenth century,and was also discredited by the learned AristotelianAlbertus Magnus at about the same time. No trace of[Pg 118]it is to be found in Aristotle or Herodotus or anyclassical author, nor in the "Physiologus." The legendseems to have originated in the East, for the earliestwritten statement which we have concerning it is by acertain Father Damien, in the eleventh century, whosimply declares: "Birds can be produced by trees, ashappens in the island of Thilon in India." We havealso a reference to the same marvel in an ancientOriental book (the "Zohar," the principal book of theKaballah), as follows: "The Rabbi Abba saw a treefrom the fruits of which birds were hatched." Theearliest written statements of the legend are, it appears,to the effect that there is a tree which produces fruitsfrom which birds are hatched. The belief in the storyseems to have died out at the end of the seventeenthcentury, when the structure of the barnacle lying withinits shell was examined without prejudice, and it wasseen to have only the most remote resemblance to abird. The plumose legs or "cirrhi" of the barnacle(Fig. 10) have a superficial resemblance to a youngfeather or possibly to the jointed toes of a young bird,and there the possibilities of comparison end.

The notion that a particular kind of black goose(a "brent"), which occurs on the marshy coast of Britainin great numbers, isthe goose,the bird, produced by thebarnacle was favoured by the fact that this goose doesnot breed in Britain, and yet suddenly appears in largeflocks, in districts where barnacles attached to rottingtimber are often drifted on to the shore. It was accordinglyassumed by learned monks—who already knew thetraveller's tale, that in distant lands birds are producedby the transformation of barnacles—that this goose isthe actual bird which is bred from the barnacles, andit was accordingly called "the barnacle goose." I think[Pg 119]that this identification was due to the exercise of a littleauthority on the part of the clergy in both France andBritain, who were thus enabled to claim the abundant"barnacle goose" as a fish in its nature and originrather than a fowl, and so to use it as food on the fast-daysof the Church. Pope Innocent III (to whom thematter was referred) considered it necessary in 1215 toprohibit the eating of "barnacle geese" in Lent, sincealthough he admitted that they are not generated in theordinary way, he yet maintained (very reasonably) thatthey live and feed like ducks, and cannot be regardedas differing in nature from other birds.

Thus we see that in early and even later days agood deal hung on the truth of this story of thegeneration of barnacle geese. The story was popularlydiscussed by the devout and by sceptics, and appears tohave been known in France as "l'histoire du canard."At last in the seventeenth century it was finally discredited,owing to the account given by some Dutchexplorers of the eggs and young of the barnacle goose—likethose of any other goose—and its breeding-place inthe far north on the coast of Greenland. The discreditedand hoary legend now became the type and exemplar ofa marvellous story which is destitute of foundation, andso the term "un canard" (short for histoire d'un canard),commonly applied in French to such stories, receives itsexplanation. Our own term for such stories, in use aslong since as 1640, namely, "a cock-and-bull story," hasnot been traced to its historical source.[3]

That the story of the goose or duck and the[Pg 120]transformed barnacle was a popular one in Shakespear'stime, whether believed or disbelieved, appears from hisreference to barnacles in "The Tempest." Caliban saysto Stephano and Trinculo, when they have all threebeen plagued by Prospero's magic, and plunged by Arielinto "the filthy mantled pool" near at hand, "dancingup to their chins": "We shall lose our time and all beturned to barnacles, or to apes with foreheads villainouslow." Probably enough, this is an allusion to thesupposed Protean nature of barnacles. They are notalluded to elsewhere in Shakespear.

One of the most precise accounts of the generation ofgeese by barnacles is that of the mediaeval historianGiraldus Cambrensis, who visited Ireland and wrote anaccount of what he saw in the time of Henry II, at theend of the twelfth century. He says: "There are inthis place many birds which are called Bernacæ;Nature produces them, against Nature, in a mostextraordinary way. They are like marsh-geese, butsomewhat smaller. They are produced from fir timbertossed along the sea, and are at first like gum. Afterwardsthey hang down by their beaks as if they were aseaweed attached to the timber, and are surrounded byshells in order to grow more freely. Having thus inprocess of time been clothed with a strong coat offeathers, they either fall into the water or fly freely awayinto the air." "I have frequently seen," he proceeds,"with my own eyes, more than a thousand of thesesmall bodies of birds, hanging down on the seashore froma piece of timber, enclosed in their shells and readyformed. They do not breed and lay eggs like otherbirds; nor do they ever hatch any eggs nor build nestsanywhere. Hence bishops and clergymen in some partsof Ireland do not scruple to dine off these birds at the[Pg 121]time of fasting, because they are not flesh nor born offlesh!"

It is noteworthy that Giraldus does not state—inaccordance with the tradition as reported by earlierwriters—that there is a tree the buds of which becometransformed into the geese, but says merely that the"small bodies of birds," clearly indicating by hisdescription groups of ship's barnacles, are "producedfrom fir timber tossed along the sea." It is also noteworthythat he calls the geese themselves "Bernacæ,"which is the Celtic name for a shell-fish.

Later the belief seems to have reverted to the oldertradition, or probably enough the complete story, includingthe existence of the bird-producing tree, existed inits original form in "seats of learning" in other parts ofthe British Islands outside Ireland, and also in Paris andother places in Western Europe. For we find that in1435 the learned Sylvius, who afterwards became PopePius II, visited King James of Scotland in order, amongother things, to see the wonderful tree which he hadheard of as growing in Scotland from the fruit of whichgeese are born. He complains that "miracles willalways flee further and further," for when he had nowarrived in Scotland and asked to see the tree, he wastold that it did not grow there, but farther north, in theOrkneys. And so he did not see the tree.

In 1597, John Gerard, in the third book of his"Herbal, or History of Plants," writes as follows: "Thereare found in the north parts of Scotland and the Islandsadjacent called Orchades, certaine trees whereon do growcertaine shell-fishes of a white colour tending to russett,wherein are contained little creatures which shels in[Pg 122]time of maturity doe open and out of them grow thoselittle living things which, falling into the water, doebecome foules whom we call Barnacles, in the north ofEngland Brent Geese, and in Lancashire Tree Geese."Gerard is here either adopting or suggesting an identificationof the tradition of the tree which producesbirds from its buds, with the floating timber bearingship's barnacles, which were supposed to give birth tothe brent geese. He does not say that he has seen, orknows persons who have seen, the barnacles attachedto the branches of living trees. Nevertheless, he givesa picture of them so attached (Fig. 13). It has beensuggested, in later times, that such a fixation of barnaclesto the branches of living trees might occur in some ofthe sea-water lochs of the west of Scotland,—just asoysters become attached to the mangrove trees in theWest Indies,—and it has further been suggested thatwillows might thus droop their branches into the sea-water,and that the catkins on the willow-shoots mightbe taken for an early stage of growth of the barnacles;but I have not come across any record of such fixationof barnacles on living shrubs or branches of trees, and Iam inclined to think that Gerard's story of what occurs inthe distant Orkneys is merely an attempt to substantiatethe bird-producing tree of the Oriental story, by quietlyassuming that the sea-borne timber covered with barnaclesexisted somewhere as living trees and exhibited this sameproperty of budding forth barnacles which on opening liberatedeach a minute gosling. Gerard continues as follows:"But what our eyes have seen and hands have handledwe shall declare." There is, he tells us, a small island inLancashire called the Pile of Foulders, and there rottentrees and the broken timbers of derelict ships are thrownup by the sea. On them forms "a certain spume orfroth which in time breeds into certaine shells." He[Pg 123]
[Pg 124]then gives a description of these shells and the fishcontained therein, which is a correct enough account ofthe common ship's barnacle. He proceeds, however, toan assertion which is not of something which he saw orhandled, namely, that the animal within the shell, thoughlike the fish of an oyster, gradually grows to a bird andcomes forth hanging to the shell by its bill. Finally, hesays, it escapes to maturity. At the end of his chapteron this subject, Gerard says: "I dare not absolutelyavouch every circumstance of the first part of thishistory concerning the tree which beareth those budsaforesaide, but will leave it to a further consideration."

Gerard's "Herbal" was reprinted forty years later (in1636) and edited by Johnson, a member of the Societyof Apothecaries. He writes with contempt of Gerard'scredulity as to the story of the barnacle and the goose,and states that certain "Hollanders" in seeking a north-eastpassage to China had recently come across someislands in the Arctic Sea which were the breeding-placeof the so-called barnacle goose, and had taken and eatensixty of their eggs, besides young and old birds.

Probably there were always lovers of the marvellousand the occult who favoured and would favour to-daythe tradition of the conversion of one animal intoanother and such wonders; and there were also both inthe days of ancient Greece and Rome, and even in thedarkest of the Middle Ages, men with a sceptical andinquiring spirit, who accepted no traditional testimony,but demanded, as the basis of their admitting somethingunlikely as nevertheless true, the trial of experiment andthe examination of specimens. What has happenedsince Gerard's time and the incorporation of the RoyalSociety in 1662, is that the sceptical men have got[Pg 125]the upper hand, though not without much opposition.In this country, owing to the defective education administeredin our public schools and older universities,there is still quite a large number of well-to-do peopleready to believe in any "occult" imposture or fantasythat may be skilfully brought to their notice.

On the other hand, we must bear in mind when weconsider these strange beliefs held by really learned andintelligent men in the past, that the investigation ofnature had not advanced very far in their time. It wasnot held, as it is to-day, as an established fact that livingthings are generated only by slips or cuttings of a parentor from eggs or germs which are special detachedparticles of the parent. It was held to be a matter ofcommon observation and certainty that all sorts of livingthings are "spontaneously generated" by slime, by seafoam, by mud, and by decomposing dead bodies ofanimals and trees. It was also held, in consequence ofa blind belief in, and often a complete misunderstandingof, the legends and fairy tales of the ancients and ofthe preposterous "Bestiaries" and books on magic whichwere the fashion in mediaeval times, that it is quite ausual and natural thing for one animal or plant to changeinto another. Hence there was nothing very surprising(though worthy of record) in a barnacle changing into ayoung goose, or in the buds of a tree becoming in someconditions changed into barnacles!

So, too, the notion that rotting timber can "generate"barnacles was not, to our forefathers, at all out of theway or preposterous. Sir Thomas Browne in 1646 wasunable to make up his mind on this matter, and believedin the spontaneous generation of mice by wheat, towhich he briefly alludes in his curious book called[Pg 126]"Pseudodoxia Epidemica, or an Enquiry into Vulgarand Common Errors." The account of the creation givenby the poet Milton was based upon the belief in thedaily occurrence of such spontaneous generation of livingthings of high complexity of structure and large size,from slime and mud. The process of creation of livingthings conceived by him was but a general and initialexhibition of an activity of earth and sea which inhis belief was still in daily operation in remote andundisturbed localities.

In 1668 the Italian naturalist, Redi, demonstratedthat putrefying flesh does not "spontaneously breed"maggots. He showed that if a piece of flesh isprotected by a wire network cover from the accessof flies, no maggots appear in it, and that the fliesattracted by the smell of the meat lay their eggs on thewire network, unable to reach the meat, whilst if thewire cover is removed they lay their eggs on the meat,and from them the maggots are hatched. It tooka long time for this demonstration by Redi to affectpopular belief, and there are still country folk whobelieve in the spontaneous generation of maggots.[4]

But few, if any, persons of ordinary intelligence oreducation now believe that these sudden productions ofliving things, without regular and known parentage, takeplace. The spontaneous generation of large, tangiblecreatures having ceased to be an article of general belief,the conviction nevertheless persisted for some time thatat any rate minute microscopic living things weregenerated without parentage. This theory was moredifficult to test on account of the need for employing[Pg 127]the microscope in the inquiry, which was not broughtto a high state of efficiency until the last century. Byexperiments similar to those of Redi, it was shown inthe first half of last century by Theodor Schwann thateven the minute bacteria do not appear in putresciblematerial when those already in it are killed by boilingthat material, and when the subsequent access to it ofother bacteria is prevented by closing all possibleentrance of air-borne particles, or insect carriers of germs.It took another fifty years to thoroughly establish byobservation and experiment the truth of Schwann'srefutation of the supposed "spontaneous generation" ofthe minutest forms of life.

As an example of the strange incapacity for makingcorrect observation and the failure to record correctlythings observed which are frequently exhibited by themost highly placed "men of education," as well as byuneducated peasants and fisher folk, we have the shortpaper entitled, "A Relation concerning Barnacles," by SirRobert Moray—the first president of the Royal Societyof London (from 1661 until its incorporation in 1662)—avery distinguished man, and an intimate friend ofKing Charles II. This paper was read to the society in1661 and published in 1677 in vol. xii. of the "PhilosophicalTransactions." Sir Robert relates how he foundon the coast a quantity of dead barnacles attached to apiece of timber, and that in each barnacle's shell was abird. He writes: "This bird in every shell that Iopened, as well the least as the biggest, I found socuriously and completely formed that there appearednothing wanting, as to the external parts, for making upa perfect sea-fowl; every little part appearing so distinctlythat the whole looked like a large bird seenthrough a concave or diminishing glass, colour and[Pg 128]feature being everywhere so clear and near. The littlebill like that of a goose, the eyes marked, the head,neck, breast, wings, tail and feet formed, the featherseverywhere perfectly shaped and blackish coloured, andthe feet like those of other waterfowl—to my best remembrance.All being dead and dry, I did not look afterthe inward parts of them." If the reader will now lookat Fig. 15, C, which represents the soft parts of a barnaclewhen the shells of one side are removed, he will seehow far Sir Robert Moray must have been the victim—asso many people naturally are under such circumstances—ofimagination and defective memory when he wrote thisaccount. I have put into italics in the above quotationfrom his "Relation" his confession that he is writing, notwith his specimens before him, but from remembrance ofthem. Moreover, he tells us, with admirable candour,that the specimens were dead and dry when he examinedthem! One could not desire a better justification forthe motto adopted by the Royal Society, "Nullius inverba," and for the procedure upon which in its earlydays the Society insisted—namely, that at its meetings themembers should "bring in" a specimen or an experiment,and not occupy time by mere relations and reports ofmarvels. It is necessary even at the present day toinsist on such demonstration by those who urge us toaccept as true their relations of mysterious experienceswith ghosts, and their "conviction" that they have conversedwith "discarnate intelligences."

IT is clear that there was a widespread traditionknown to the learned in the early centuries of theChristian era, according to which there existed in somedistant Eastern land a tree which bore buds or fruitswhich became converted into birds. Connected withthis, and perhaps really a part of it, there existed atradition that marine "barnacles" gave birth to geesefrom within their shells, or are in some way convertedinto geese. The two stories were in some localities andnarrations combined, though in others they were distinct.On the coast of Ireland the early missionaries of theChurch (learned men acquainted with the traditions oftheir time) identified the migratory brent goose with thebird said to be produced by the barnacle; and elsewhere,on the Scottish coast, the barnacles were (it wasreported) found growing on trees. There is no suchresemblance between barnacles and brent geese as tohave suggested to the Irish monks the regular andnatural conversion of one into the other. It seems mostprobable that the learned churchmen knew the traditionalstory already before arriving in Ireland, and applied it tothe barnacles and the geese which they discoveredaround them. Eventually the word "barnacle" withoutqualification was applied to the geese, as we see in[Pg 130]Gerard's account given in the last chapter. Is there, itmay be asked, anything further known as to such atradition, and the place and manner of its origin? Inthe absence of such knowledge, an ingenious attemptwas made by my old friend, Professor Max Müller, toaccount for the tradition by the similarity of the names,which he erroneously supposed had been givenindependentlyto the barnacle and to the "Hibernian" goose.I will refer to this below, but now I will proceed togive the most probable solution of the mystery as to thetradition of the tree, the goose, and the barnacle. Itsdiscovery is not more than twenty years old, and is dueto M. Frederic Houssay, a distinguished French zoologistof the Ecole Normale, who published it in the "RevueArcheologique" in 1895. It has not hitherto beenbrought to the notice of English readers, and I shalltherefore give a full account of it.

The solution is as follows: The Mykenæan populationof the islands of Cyprus and Crete, in the period800 to 1000 years before Christ, were great makers ofpottery, and painted large earthernware basins and vaseswith a variety of decorative representations of marinelife, of fishes, butterflies, birds, and trees. Some of theseare to be seen in the British Museum at Bloomsbury,where I examined them a few years ago. Others have beenfigured by the well-known archæologists, MM. Perrot andChipiez, in the sixth volume of their work, "L'Ossuairede Crète." M. Perrot consulted M. Houssay, in hiscapacity of zoologist, in regard to these Mykenæandrawings, which bear, as M. Houssay states, the evidenceof having been designedafter nature by one who knewthe things in life, although they are not slavishly"copied" from nature. These early Mykenæan painterson pottery were members of a community who worshipped[Pg 131]the great mother—"Nature"—as Astarte or Aphroditerisen from the foam of the sea. Being sailors andfishermen, marine life was even more familiar to themthan that of the land, and they placed little models ofsea animals as votive offerings in the temples of thegreat mother, and also honoured her in decorating theirpottery with marine creatures. The little fish, Hippocampus,called the sea-horse, the sea-urchin, the octopus,the argonaut and its floating cradle, the sea-anemone,[Pg 132]and the butterfly-like Pteropod, were subjects used bythese artists for which they found terrestrial counterparts.The sea-horse was convertible decoratively into a truehorse, with intermediate phases imagined by the artists;the sea-urchin into a hedgehog, the sea-anemone into aflower, and the Pteropod into a true butterfly. Theseartists loved to exercise a little fancy and ingenuity.By gradual reduction in the number and size of outstandingparts—a common rule in the artistic "schematizing"or "conventional simplification" of natural form—theyconverted the octopus and the argonaut, with theireight arms, into a bull's head with a pair of spiral horns(Fig. 14). In the same spirit it seems that theyobserved and drew the barnacle floating on timber orthrown up after a storm on their shores. They detecteda resemblance in the marking of its shells to the plumageof a goose, whilst in the curvature of its stalk they saw aresemblance to the long neck of the bird. The barnacle'sjointed plumose legs or cirri and other details suggestedpoints of agreement with the feathers of the bird. Theybrought the barnacle and the goose together, not guidedthereto by any pre-existing legend, but by a simple andnot uncommon artistic desire to follow up a superficialsuggestion of similarity and to conceive of intermediateconnecting forms. Some of their fanciful drawings withthis purpose are shown in Figs. 15, 16, and 17. These(excepting the drawing of the barnacle lying within itsopened shell) are copied from M. Houssay's paper on thesubject, and were taken from the work of M. Perrot onCretan pottery.

A, Drawing of a Ship'sBarnacle attachedto a piece of timberby its "peduncle"or stalk, which representsthe neck ofa goose, if we regardthe shell-coveredregion as the goose'sbody. From asketch by M. FredericHoussay publishedin the "RevueArchæologique,"January 1895.

B, Copy of a drawing onan ancient Mykenæanpot found inCrete, and figuredby M. Perrot in his"Ossuaire de Crète"vol. vi. p. 936. Itis a fantastic blendof the goose and thebarnacle. The barnacle'sstalk is givena beak and an eye; the body of the bird corresponds to the shells of thebarnacle both in shape and marking. There are no wings or legs, butthe curious single limb which I have marked pe is obviously the samething as that marked pe in figure C, which represents the barnacle whencut open so as to show the structures within the shell, pe is the rod-likebody at the end of which the seminal duct opens. It is seen in thedrawing of the expanded barnacle (Fig. 10), lying between the twogroups of six forked and jointed legs or "cirri."

C, A correct modern drawing of a ship's barnacle, with the shells of one sideremoved so as to show the six double legs of one side, the seminal rod(pe), and the internal organs. This is what Sir Robert Moray and hismediaeval predecessors saw on opening the barnacle's shell and describedas "a young bird complete in every detail."

The intention of the artist to fantastically insist onintermediate phases between goose and barnacle isplaced beyond doubt by certain details. For instance,in Fig. 16, the little jointed processes on the back[Pg 133]
[Pg 134]of the goose marked a, correspond in position to thecirri or legs of the barnacle. They are reduced innumber to two, and simplified in form so as to passfor the tips of the wings of the goose. The goose'sown feet are represented in their natural position. Themost extraordinary piece of resemblance in detail isthat given in Fig. 15, B, which is a copy of a verymuch "barnaculized" goose from one of these ancientdishes. What does the Mykenæan artist mean torepresent by the strange single leg-like limb markedpe? When we carefully examine the barnacle's softbody concealed by its shell, it becomes obvious thatthis leg-like thing corresponds to the single stalk-likebody, ending in a bunch of a few hairs which ismarked pe in Fig. 15, C. This last-named figure is acareful modern representation of the soft living barnacle,as seen when the shells of one side are removed. Thecylindrical body pe of Fig. 15, C, which is drawn bythe Mykenæan artist on an exaggerated scale inFig. 15, B, is the external opening of the seminal[Pg 135]duct of the barnacle. It is remarkable that theMykenæan pottery-painter had observed the soft "fish"of the barnacle so minutely as to select this unpairedand very peculiar-looking structure, and represent it ofexaggerated size attached in its properposition on the barnacle-like body of agoose. This very striking transferenceof a peculiar and characteristic organof the barnacle to the body of the gooseby the artist seems not to have beennoticed by M. Houssay.

M. Houssay further points out theexistence on some of the Mykenæanpottery of drawings (see "L'Ossuairede Crète," by MM. Perrot and Chipiez)of leaves attached to tree-like stems.These leaves (Fig. 18, a, b, c) exhibitthe same markings ("venation") whichwe see on the bodies of the geese inFig. 16, especially the middle one ofthe five. The leaves (or fruits?) copiedby M. Houssay from the Mykenæanpottery are attached in a series to astem—but no one, at present, hassuggested what plant it is which isrepresented. The corners of the leafor fruit to the right and left of itsstalk are thrown into a spiral—andthe half leaf or half fruit represented in Fig. 18, b,leads us on to that drawn in Fig. 18, c, in which thespiral corner is slightly modified in curvature so as toresemble the head and neck of the goose as drawn inFig. 16. Though Fig. 18, c, is as yet devoid oflegs or wing feathers (compare Fig. 16, d), the black[Pg 136]band along the belly with the bandof vertical markings above it agreesclosely with the design on the bodyof the middle goose of the seriesdrawn in Fig. 16. As these areassociated in the decoration of theMykenæan artists, it is fairly evidentthat the intention has been to manipulatethe drawing of the leaf orfruit so as to make it resemble thedrawing of the goose, whilst that inits turn is modified so as to emphasizeor idealize its points of resemblanceto a barnacle.

It is true enough that the drawingsfrom Mykenæan pots here submittedcannot be considered as a completedemonstration that the legend ofthe tree-goose originated with thesedrawings. But it must be rememberedthat we have only a smallnumber of examples of this potterysurviving from a thousand yearsB.C.It is probable that the fanciful decorativedesign of a master artist wascopied and used in the painting ofhundreds of pots by mere workmenor inferior craftsmen, and that morecomplete and impressive designsshowing the fanciful transformationof leaf or fruit to goose, and of gooseto barnacle, existed both before andafter the making of the particularpots and jars which have come[Pg 137]down to us. The supposition made by M. Houssay(which I entirely support) is that some later Levantinepeople—to whom these decorated pots or copies oftheir decorations became known either in the regularway of trade or as sailors' "curios"—were led to attemptan explanation of the significance of the pictures drawnupon them, and in accordance with a well-knownand rooted tendency—interpreted the fancies of theartist as careful representations of astonishing fact.The existence of a tree which produces buds whichbecome birds, and of a barnacle which becomes transformedinto a goose—is the matter-of-fact interpretationof the few pictures of these animals which havecome down to us, modern men, painted on the few potsof that remote Mykenæan industry now in our museums.It is not at all unlikely that in the vast period of timebetween 1000B.C. and 1000A.D., the more striking ofthese designs had been copied and familiarized in somepart of the ancient world. It is true that we do notat present know in what part: we have not yet comeacross these designs of later date than 800B.C. Theabsence of the story of the tree-goose from Greek andRoman lore is striking. Neither Aristotle nor Herodotusknew of it, although it has been erroneously stated thatthey refer to it. Yet the source of it was there in theGreek isles almost under their noses (if one may speakof the noses of such splendid and worshipful men ofold) in the artistic work—otherwise not unknown to theGreeks—of a civilization which preceded their own byhundreds of years. There is other and ample evidence—asfor instance that of the representation of the "flyinggallop" (see "Science from an Easy Chair," SecondSeries, pp. 57 and 63), showing that Mykenæan art hadlittle or no direct effect on the Hellenes, although thereputation of the skill of the old race in metal work[Pg 138]came through many generations to them. Mykenæanart seems to have migrated with Mykenæan settlers tothe remote region of the Caucasus. In the necropolisof Koban and other remote settlements, Mykenæandesigns in bronze and gold—including the horse inflying gallop and octopods transformed to bull's heads—havebeen found and pictured (Ernest Chantre, "Recherchesanthropologique dans Caucase," 4 vols.: Paris, 1886).They are believed to date from 500B.C. It is possiblethat in such remote regions or in some of the Greekislands the pictures of the tree-goose and the barnaclemay have survived until the new dispensation—thatis, until the days of the Byzantine Empire. Once wecan trace either the pictures or the legend up to thatpoint, there is no difficulty about admitting the radiationof the wonderful story from that centre to the Jews ofthe Kabbalah, to Arabic writers, and so to the learnedmen of the Christian Church and the seats of learningthroughout Europe and a great part of Asia.

Of the history of the legend during two thousand yearswe have no actual knowledge. It remains for investigation.But undoubtedly these Mykenæan pottery paintingsremove the origin of the story to a period twothousand years older than that of the Irish monks.

One additional fact I may mention as to the existenceof the goose and barnacle legend in the East. Iam informed that in Java there is, according to "native"story, a shell-fish the animal of which becomes transformedinto a bird—said to be a kind of snipe—andflies from the shell. I have been shown the shell by aDutch lady who has lived in Java. It is a large fresh-watermussel, one of the Unionidæ. I have failed toobtain, after inquiry, any further information as to the[Pg 139]prevalence or origin of this story in Java, and hope thatsome one who reads this page may be able to help me.

Before leaving the story of the goose and thebarnacle, the explanation of the myth given by Prof.Max Müller in his lectures on the science of languagenearly fifty years ago, should be cited. It is an excellentexample of the misuse of hypothesis in investigation,and the attempt to explain something which we cannotget at and examine by making a supposition which it iseven more difficult to examine and test.

Max Müller made use of the observation—a perfectlytrue and interesting one—that a whole people or folkwill be led to a wrong conclusion, or to a belief in somestrange and marvellous occurrence, by the misunderstandingof a single word, attributing to that word asense which now fits the sound, but one quite differentfrom that with which the word was originally used in thetradition or history concerned. Words are, in fact, misinterpretedafter a lapse of time, or when imported fromdistant lands, just as we have seen that pictures andsculpture often have been. For instance, RichardWhittington, who was Lord Mayor of London in 1398and other later years, did business in French goods, whichwas spoken of in the city as "achat," and pronounced"akat." Hence in later centuries, when the prevalenceof Norman French was forgotten, it was stated (in a playproduced in 1605) that Whittington owed his fortune to"a cat," and the story of the wonderful cat and its deedswas built up "line upon line" or "lie upon lie." MaxMüller suggested that the story of the barnacle and thegoose could be similarly explained. The brant or brentgoose which frequents the Irish shore was, he supposes,called "berniculus" by the Latin-speaking clergy as adiminutive of Hibernicus, meaning "Irish." There is[Pg 140]absolutely no evidence to support this. Max Müllersupposes that Hibernicus became "Hiberniculus," andthen dropping the first syllable became "Berniculus,"and that this word was applied to the "Irish goose." Itmight have been, but there is nothing to show that itwas. Meanwhile the ship's barnacle and other sea-shellswere called in the Celtic tongue "barnagh," "berniche,"or "bernak," and the hermit-crab is still called on theBreton coast, "Bernard l'hermite," a modification of"bernak l'hermite." There is no doubt that the word"barnacle" as applied to the stalked shell-fish growingon ships' bottoms is a diminutive of the Celticword "bernak," or "barnak." It became in Latin"barnacus," and then the diminutive "barnaculus," andso "barnacle" was used for the little stalked shell-fishencrusting old timber. According to Max Müller,later generations thus found the two animals, goose andshell-fish, called by the same name, "bernikle," or"barnacle." "Why?" they would ask: and then (hesupposes) they would compare the two and detect pointsof resemblance, until at last a very devout and astutemonk had the happy thought of declaring that theHibernian goose was called "berniculus," or "barnak-goose,"because it did not breed from eggs as other birdsdo, but is hatched out of the shell of the shell-fish, alsovery naturally and rightly called "berniculus," or barnak,as any one may see by carefully examining the fishcontained in the shell of the barnacle or little stalked"barnak," which has the complete form of a bird. Since,however, it is not a bird, but a fish in nature and origin,this holy man declared that the "berniculus," or "barnacle-goose,"may be eaten on fast days. Max Müller'sexplanation of the origin of the story is too adventurousin its unsupported assumption that the particular gooseassociated with the story was peculiarly Irish, or that,[Pg 141]in fact, any kind of goose was so. He also put asidethe evidence of Father Damien (earlier than the Irishstory of Giraldus) referring the goose-tree to an islandin the Indies, and the report cited in the Orientalbook the "Zohar." However plausible Max Müller'stheory may have appeared, it absolutely crumbles anddisappears in the presence of the Mykenæan pictures of"barnaculized" geese, and trees budding birds—twothousand years older than the Irish record, and nearlythree thousand years earlier than the essay of the charmingand persuasive professor.

ANY hard coat or covering enclosing a softer materialis called a "shell"—thus we speak of an egg-shell,a nut-shell, a bomb-shell, and the shell of a lobster. Butthere is a special and restricted use of the word to indicateas "true" and "real" shells the beautiful coveringsmade for their protection by the soft, mobile animalscalled Molluscs. These animals expand and contractfirst this and then that region of the body by squeezingthe blood within it (by means of the soft muscular coatof the sac-like body) into one part or another in turn.There is not enough blood to distend the whole animal,and accordingly one part is swollen out and protrudesfrom the shell, whilst another shrinks as the blood ispropelled here or there by the compressing muscularcoat. These creatures are the Molluscs, a name whichhas come into general use (and has even served as thetitle for a stage-play), as well as being the zoologist'stitle for the great division of animals which they constitute.

They are sometimes called "shell-fish," but this isno good as a distinctive name—since it is applied inthe fish-trade to lobsters, crabs, and shrimps as well asto Molluscs. Lobsters, crabs, and shrimps are Crustacea,and totally different in their architecture and theirmechanism from Molluscs. Familiar examples ofMolluscs are the oyster, the mussel, the various[Pg 143]"clams," and, again, the snails, periwinkles, whelks,and limpets. It is the shells of these animals whichare "true" shells in the sense in which the word is usedby "collectors" of shells, and in the sense in which wespeak of "the shells of the seashore." These shells areusually very hard, solid things, made up of layers oflime-salts and horny matter mixed, and they remain fora long time undestroyed, washed about by the currentsof the sea, and thrown up on to the beach, after the soft,oozy creature which formed them—chemically secretedthem on its soft skin—has decomposed and disappeared.They are readily distinguished into two sorts—(1) thosewhich are formed in pairs, or "bivalves," each memberof the pair being called a "valve"; and (2) those whichare single, or "univalves," often spirally twisted, as arethose of snails and whelks, but sometimes cap-like orbasin-like, as are the shells of the limpets. There is notso great a difference between bivalve and univalve shellsas there seems to be at first sight. For if you examinethe pair of shells of a mussel or a clam when they arequite fresh, you will find that the valves are joinedtogether by a horny, elastic substance, and are, in fact,only one horny shell, or covering, which is made hardby lime deposited on the right and on the left, as twoplates or valves, but is left soft and uncalcified along aline where these two valves meet, so as to allow themto move and gape, as it were, on an elastic hinge. It isthe fact that the two valves of the shell of the bivalve,lying right and left on its body, correspond to the singleshell of the snail or limpet, which differs from the bivalve-shellin not being divided along the back by a soft partinto right and left pieces. That there is this real agreementbetween bivalve and univalve molluscs is quiteevident when we examine the soft animal which forms theshell and is protected by it.

Though "shells" are often numerous on parts of theseashore, some beaches (as, for instance, at Falmouth,at the mouth of the Eden of St. Andrews, and at Hermin the Channel Islands) being so placed in regard to thecurrents and waves of the sea that great quantities ofshells of dozens of species are thrown up, and even"make up" the beach, yet there are not so very manyMolluscs which live commonly on the shore between tide-marks.The shells which are accumulated as shell-beacheshave come from animals which lived in quantityat depths of ten or twenty fathoms, whence they can bebrought up alive by the dredge. There are, however,certain bivalves and certain univalves which are commonlyto be found in the living state between tide-marks.[Pg 145]You will not find the oyster there on our own coast, butin Australia they have picnic parties where every guestprovides himself with a hammer and a bottle of vinegarand a pepper-pot, and at low tide proceeds to chip theoysters off the rocks on which they grow tightly fixed,and to eat them "right away" before they have time tolose their good temper and sweetness! In Jamaica theyshow you oysters apparently growing on trees high upin the air, but they are dead, having attached themselvesto the branches of a young tree which dipped into thewater. Once fixed there, they were unable to move asthe tree grew and carried them up with its branchesabove the sea-level.

The only bivalve at all common and visible to theeye between tide-marks is the common or edible sea-mussel,which is attached in purple clusters to the rocks(as in North Cornwall), or forms a wide-spreading pavement,called a "scalp," of as much as an acre in extent,on which thousands of mussels lie side by side. But bydigging in the sand and mud between tides there areother living bivalves to be found, which burrow more orless deeply. The razor-shell (Fig. 19, b) is one of these(see p. 80). Often (as at Teignmouth and Barmouth)we find "cockles" buried in the sand, and those delicate,smooth bivalves not an inch long, white outside andpurple within, which are made into soup at Naples andare called "vongoli," but have no English name. Other"clams" (Tapes, which is eaten in France, even in Paris,and Mya, and Scrobicularia which lives in black mud)may be dug up, but they are devoid of English namesbecause we do not eat them; hence I have to speak ofthem by their Latin scientific names. As to univalves,there are three which are found almost everywhere onour coasts where there are rocks, namely, the periwinkles[Pg 146](one species of which actually lives above high tide-mark),the limpet, and the dog-whelk. A small speciesof top-shell or trochus is also very common, and so isthe chiton, or armadillo-shell, which, though really themost primitive and nearest representative of the ancestorsof all univalve molluscs, yet has its own shell of a verypeculiar character (sometimes with very minute eyes—trueeyes—dotted about on it), and always divided transverselyto its length (not right and left) into eight separatepieces, which, indeed, seem to be really separate, independentlittle shells, corresponding to eight segmentslike the segments of a shrimp or an earth-worm.

Let us now compare the soft animal of one of thebivalves—say the common cockle—with the soft animalto which a univalve shell belongs—say the limpet. Theycan be kept alive and watched in a finger-glass of sea-water,and can be removed from their shells and examinedmore closely—by killing them by dipping them for halfa minute into very hot (not boiling) water. Both thesemolluscs—like all others—adhere tightly at one place tothe shell. They cannot be removed from it alive, andmake a new shell or creep back into the old one, as cansome worms (e.g. the serpula) and other creatures whichform a hard shell to live in. Certain muscles of the softmollusc are so closely fixed to the shell that they mustbe torn in order to separate it. These muscles drawthe two valves of the bivalve together, and shut it tight.You can verify this whenever the oyster-man "opens"an oyster for you. When at rest the shells gape, beingkept open by the horny, elastic hinge-piece. Somebivalves (for instance, the common scallop, or pilgrim'sshell, which can often be dredged in shallow water, andof which a large kind is sold in the London fish shops)actually swim in the sea-water by aid of this mechanism,[Pg 147]the shells opening by elasticity and being closed by themuscle joining one to the other, at rapid intervals, flappinglike the wings of a butterfly.

In the univalves the attachment of the muscle to theshell gives a fixed point for all the movements of theanimal. The limpet has a well-marked head and neck—apair of sensitive tentacles, and a small pair of dark-colouredeyes. The mouth is at the end of a sort ofshort snout. Just within the mouth, and capable ofbeing pushed forwards to the level of the lips, is a mostextraordinary rasp. It consists of a long ribbon, besetwith fine horny teeth—very sharp and complicated inpattern. The ribbon extends far back into the body,and is worn away by constant use at the orifice of themouth. It grows forward, like one of our finger-nails,as it wears out, and a new, unworn portion takes theplace of that worn away. It is constantly in use to raspand bring into the mouth the particles of the seaweedon which the limpet feeds. It is easy to remove thisrasping ribbon with a needle or pen-knife, and examineit with a microscope. Every one of the hundreds ofkinds of univalve molluscs has this ribbon-rasp, and itsteeth are of different patterns in the various kinds. It isworked by very powerful little muscles, backwards andforwards, and is strong enough in the whelks to bore around hole into other shells (for instance, that of theoyster), when the whelk proceeds to eat the soft animal,whose protecting shell has been thus penetrated. Someof the large marine snails produce a poisonous secretionfrom the mouth, which renders their attack with theribbon-rasp all the more deadly to other marine creatures.The cuttle-fishes and octopods, which are molluscs too,possess, like the univalve limpets, snails, and whelks, thisterrible ribbon-rasp in the mouth. It is an indication of[Pg 148]a common parentage or ancestral relationship in theforms which possess it.

The cockle (Fig. 19, d), to which we now turn, has notgot a ribbon-rasp, nor anything of the kind. It has amouth with four flapper-like lips, but no projecting head,no eyes, no biting mechanism, nor have any of thebivalves, excepting a few which like the scallop have aseries of eyes on the edge of the soft mantle or flapwhich lines the shell. This constitutes a greater differencebetween bivalves and the univalves than does the shapeof the shell. They are a very quiescent, peaceful lot,feeding on microscopic floating plants (diatoms andsuch), which are drawn to the mouth by currents ofwater set going by millions of vibrating hairs arrangedon four soft plates hanging under the protecting arch ofthe shell, and called in the oyster—in which bivalve mostpeople know them—the "beard."

The limpet adheres to rocks by a great disk-like massof muscle, which is called "the foot." It is really thewhole ventral surface, and it can loosen its hold, and, bycurious ripples of contraction, cause the animal to creepor glide over the rock. At low tide the limpet is exposedto the air, and remains motionless, but when the tide isup it makes a small excursion in search of food, nevergoing more than a foot or two from the spot which ithas chosen, and returning to it, so that in the course oftime it actually wears away a sort of cup or depressionat this spot—if the rock is not of exceptional hardness.The word "foot" is applied to the ventral disk-likesurface of the limpet, because in many univalves thisregion becomes drawn out, and is connected by a comparativelynarrow and nipped-in stalk or pillar with therest of the animal. This occurs in the univalves which[Pg 149]have large spiral shells, into which the whole of the softanimal can be deeply withdrawn, which is not the casewith the limpet. You may find on the shore at Torquaya sea-snail (Natica), in which the animal is quite invisible,drawn far up into the shell. Place this in sea-water andwatch it. Soft semi-transparent lobes begin to issuefrom the mouth of the shell, part of the soft distensiblefoot appears swelling out and growing bigger andbigger, and soft folds spread out from the mouthof the shell, and gently creep over it, and completelyenvelop it; the foot begins to grip the bottom of thevessel, and the animal "crawls." At last, swellingout from the other folds of soft but tense "molluscan"substance, the head and its tentacles emerge. Touchthe animal and it shrinks rapidly, disappearing intothe shell.

It used to be thought (about twenty-five years ago)that the molluscs expand their bodies in this manner bytaking water, through definite apertures provided withvalves, into their blood, and that, having thus swelledthemselves out, they could shrink and reduce themselvesby pouring out again the in-taken water. The behaviourof some other marine animals, namely the sea-anemones,which really do act in this way, made this explanationof the swelling and shrinking of molluscs seem probable.It was also known that the star-fishes and sea-urchinsactually do take in the sea-water into a system of vesselsconnected with their wonderful sucker-bearing tentacles.But it turned out on close examination that the molluscsdo not take in or shed out water in this way. A hole,which was thought to let in water into the blood of sea-snails,was shown to be only the opening of a great slime-gland.In the case of some bivalves which have red-bloodcorpuscles, I showed that the blood is never made[Pg 150]paler, nor are the red corpuscles shed during the greatdistensions and contractions of the body. Measurementswere made to determine the removal of water from aglass jar by an expanding sea-snail, and it was foundthat none is removed or taken up; in fact, the whole ofwhat is very often an astonishingly large and bulkydistension of the foot, or of lobes of the body, and thesubsequent rapid shrinking of the same parts, dependentirely on the blood being injected from the rest of thebody into the swelling part, and squeezed from it intothe depleted region when the swollen part shrinks again.The firm, opaque shell hides from view the change ofshape of the concealed body, and we see only the distendedfoot or other lobes which project from theshell.

The cockle has a "foot" of a very curious scythe-likeshape, usually carried bent up between the two valves ofthe shell. Those who rightly like to confirm statementsabout unfamiliar animals can do so by buying a cockleor two at the fishmonger's. Some bivalves (the Noah's-ark-shell,called "Arca," and a few others) have a great flatfoot, like that of the univalves, and crawl about on it.But in most bivalves it is curiously elongated andmodified, for the purpose of burrowing into sand byvigorous strokes, and in some it is suppressed altogether,as in the oyster. The cockle is remarkable for the factthat when placed on a board or a rock it will give such avigorous kick with its bent foot as to throw itself upa yard or so into the air. A naturalist (Stutchbury)dredging in Port Jackson, Australia, many years ago wasoverjoyed at discovering in his net three specimens of avery peculiar kind of cockle (Trigonia), which was tillthen only known in the fossil state from the oolite strataof Europe. He placed the three novelties on the seat of[Pg 151]his boat, and was looking at other things when he hearda click-like sound, then another. He turned his headand saw that two of his newly-discovered "living fossils"had jumped overboard, and had the pleasure of seeingthe third perform the same feat!

WHEREVER there is a sandy seashore with hereand there masses of dead seaweed and corallinesthrown up by the waves, you will find sand-hoppersfeeding on the debris. They are crustaceans, like crabs,shrimps, and barnacles, but in general aspect resembleenormous fleas. I hope that this comparison will notenable any reader at once to picture the less familiarby the more familiar. A good-sized sand-hopper isabout half an inch long, and jumps not by means of aspecially large pair of legs as the flea does, but by thestroke of the hind body, the jointed rings of which arecarried curled downwards and ready to give a suddenblow. The sand-hopper (Fig. 20, a) has some of the ringsor segments of the mid-body distinct, and not fused withthose of the head or overhung by a great shield as inthe lobster, crab, and shrimp. His walking legs andjaw-legs are also not quite of the same shape, thoughsimilar to those of a lobster, and his two little blackeyes are not mounted on stalks, but are flush with thesurface of the head. There are two quite distinct kindsof sand-hopper which live in crowds together on oursandy shores. They are not very different, but still aredistinguished by naturalists from one another; one iscalled Talitrus (Fig. 20, a), the other Orchestia (Fig. 20, b).They are very similar in appearance and structure to a[Pg 153]fresh-water creature common in weedy streams, whichhas no English name (except the general one of "fresh-watershrimp"), and is called by naturalists Gammarus.

In the open sea there are many hundreds of kindsof small crustaceans resembling the sand-hoppers intheir compressed (not flattened) shape of body and inthe details of their legs and the grouping of the jointsof the body.Many of thesmallest crustaceanswhichswarm in thesurface waters ofthe sea and formpart of that floatingpopulation,mostly of smalltransparent oriridescent andblue creatures,which we call the"plankton," or"surface-floating"population,and may be gathered by towing a very fine net behind aboat on a quiet day, can produce flashes of light which arevivid enough when seen at night. They contribute, togetherwith jelly-fish and the teeming millions of minutebladder-like Noctiluca, and other unicellular animalcules,to produce that wonderful display seen from time to timeon our coasts, and called "the phosphorescence of thesea." These minute crustaceans produce flashes of lightby suddenly squeezing from pits or glands in the skina secretion which is chemically acted on (probably[Pg 154]oxidized) by the sea-water, the chemical action settingup light-vibrations, but not the usual excess of heat-vibrationsto which we are accustomed when lightaccompanies ordinary "burning" or "combustion."

Other crustaceans of several kinds, of an inch andmore in length—transparent, delicate creatures, resemblingsmall prawns in appearance—also producelight. Some of them are known by names referring tothis fact, such as Lucifer (light-bearer) and Nyctiphanes(night-shiner). They possess special lantern-like knobsscattered about on the body, which have transparentlenses, and resemble small bull's-eye lanterns. Somehave a row of seven lanterns on each side of the body(Fig. 21), but one kind has as many as 150 dotted about.These lanterns were only a few years ago thought tobe eyes, and their elaborate microscopic structure wasdescribed as that of an eye. Of course, this was due tothe fact that dead preserved specimens were studied, andnot the living animal. Some twenty years ago Iwitnessed a most impressive exhibition of these phosphorescentshrimps at the house of my friend Sir John[Pg 155]Murray, of the "Challenger," at Millport, on the Clyde.He had obtained them (the kind called Nyctiphanes) ingreat quantities at a depth of ninety fathoms in thegreat Scotch fiord, and amongst other curious factsabout them had shown that they enter Loch Fyne invast numbers, and are the special nourishment of thecelebrated Loch Fyne herrings. It had been noticedthat the intestine of the plump, well-fed herrings is fullof a deep-black substance, and Sir John Murray showedthat this was the black, indigestible pigment of the eyesof the hundreds of phosphorescent shrimps swallowed bythese favoured fish, which owe their fine quality to theirspecial opportunity for feeding in the depths of the lochon the exceptionally abundant and nutritious light-producingcrustaceans! At night my friend showed mea large glass vessel holding four or five gallons, in whichwere a hundred or so of the phosphorescent shrimpsswimming around. We turned out the lamps of theroom, and all was dark. Then a gentle tap was givento the jar, and each little crustacean lit up, as thoughby order, a row of seven minute lamps on each side ofits body, swimming along meanwhile, and reminding oneof a passenger steamer, as seen from the shore, as itglides along at night with its lights showing through arow of cabin windows. The shrimps' lights shonesteadily for a minute or so, then ceased, and hadto be lit up again by again signalling their ownersby knocking on the glass. These little lamps, withtheir bull's-eye lenses, are far more elaborate structuresthan the glands which in other cases cause aflash by discharging a luminous secretion into the water.They are even more elaborate than the internalpermanent phosphorescent structure of the glow-worm(an insect, not a crustacean), which has no condensinglens.

I have mentioned these phosphorescent organs ofsmall and smallest crustaceans because not many yearsago a French naturalist, my friend Professor Giard,found that many of the sand-hoppers on the great sandyshore near Boulogne are phosphorescent. A year ortwo later I found them myself on the shore above tide-markat Ouistreham (Westerham), near Caen, wherethey had actually been mistaken for glow-worms! Itwas easy at night to pick up a dozen phosphorescentsand-hoppers during a stroll of five or ten minutes onthe sands. Yet I have never seen them nor heard oftheir being seen on the English coast, and one of theresults which I hope for in mentioning them here is thatsome of my readers will discover them on British sandsand let me know. The remarkable fact about theluminous sand-hoppers is that they have no apparatusfor producing light, and, as a matter of fact, do not produceit! Their luminosity is a disease, and is due (aswas shown by that much-beloved teacher and discovererthe late Professor Giard) to the infection of theirblood by a bacillus. Hence it is only here and therethat you see the brilliant greenish ball of light on thesand due to a phosphorescent sand-hopper. And whenyou pick it up you find that the poor little thing is quitefeeble and unable to hop. Examine its blood under themicroscope and you find it teeming with excessivelyminute parasitic rods like those which cause the phosphorescenceof dead fish, of stale bones, and occasionallyof butcher's meat. Similar bacilli may be obtained bycultivation from any sea-water, and in such abundancethat a room can be lit up by a bottleful of the cultivation.Perhaps all the light-producing bacteria or bacilliare only varieties of one species—perhaps they are distinctspecies. Whether a species or a variety, thatwhich gets into the blood of the sand-hopper and[Pg 157]gives it the luminosity of a glow-worm, inevitably andrapidly causes its death—a severe price to pay for briefnocturnal effulgence. Some of the germs can be removedon a needle's point from the dead sand-hopperand introduced by the most delicate puncture into ahealthy sand-hopper or into a young crab, with theresult that they too become illuminated, the bacillusmultiplying within them. Being thus morbidly illuminatedand having astonished the crustacean, not tosay the human world, by their alarming brilliance, theyquickly perish: a little history which may be read as aparable. The sand-hoppers give the disease to oneanother. It is, of course, a merely non-significant thingthat the bacillus happens to set up light vibrations.Its chemical activity is concerned with its nourishmentand growth, and in the course of these processesit not only produces light but poisonous by-productswhich kill its host. Some day we may get an"immune" race of sand-hoppers who will acquire theilluminating bacillus and defy its poison. Then weshall have a permanent and happy breed of brilliantsand-hoppers illuminating the dark places of theseashore.

It is conceivable that some of the disease-producingbacilli (bacteria, cocci, etc.) which multiply in man'sblood and tissues should also produce light vibrations,and if one could be found that would render the bloodluminous, whilst not producing much pain ormalaise,no doubt some excuse would be found for its use asa fashionable toilet novelty. Cases are on record ofluminosity of the surface of the body and its secretionsbeing developed during serious illness by human beings,especially in acute phthisis; but these ancient recordsneed confirmation.

Luminous bacilli or bacteria only give out light whenfree oxygen is in the water or liquid inhabited by them.A chemical combination of the oxygen with substancesin the bacteria is the necessary condition of their evolutionof light. When frozen, these bacteria cease to be luminous—thechemical combination cannot take place whenthe substance of the bacterium is frozen solid and maintainedin that condition; the liquid condition is anecessary condition for these changes. These luminousbacteria have been used recently by Sir James Dewar inthe Faraday Laboratory of the Royal Institution (whereSir James has shown them to me), for the purpose ofinvestigating the action of intense cold on living matter.Although their luminous response to oxygen is arrestedwhen they are frozen, yet immediately on allowing thetemperature to rise above freezing-point the response ofthe living matter to oxidation recommences, and aluminous glow is seen. Hence we have in this glow aready means of answering the question, "Does extremecold, of long duration, destroy the simplest living matter?"Sir James Dewar has exposed a film of these bacteria tothe extremest degree of cold as yet obtained in thelaboratory, that at which hydrogen gas is solidified, andhe has kept them in this, or nearly this, degree of coldfor several months. Yet immediately on "thawing" theluminous glow was visible in the dark, showing that thebacteria were still alive. Curiously enough, whilst allchemical action in living matter can be thus arrested byextreme cold, and yet resumed on rise of temperatureand restoration to the liquid condition, so that the oldphrase and the conception of "suspended animation" arejustified—yet there is one widely-distributed form ofactivity, the effect of which the bacteria, even whenhard frozen, cannot resist, namely, that of the blueand ultra-blue rays of light. These rays, if allowed to[Pg 159]fall on the hardest frozen bacillus, get at its chemicalstructure, shake it to pieces, destroy it. Hence Sir JamesDewar argues that, whilst it would appear that the extremecold of space would not kill a minute living germ,and prevent it passing from planet to planet, or fromremotest space to our earth, yet one thing which is moreabundant in space than within the shell of our atmosphereis absolutely destructive to such minute particles of livingmatter, even when hard-frozen, and that is intense light,the ultra-visible vibrations of smallest wave-length.

AFTER the hot summer of 1911 I escaped fromLondon in September and made straight for Interlaken.Thence I was "wafted" by the electric railway tothe "Schynige Platte"—a wonderful hill-side, 4500 feetabove the "Bödeli," the flat meadowland in which Interlakenis placed. At the Schynige Platte we are separatedto the south from the Jungfrau and the great Oberlandrange of mountains only by a deep rift in which rushesthe "Black Lütschine," coming down from Grindelwaldto join its "white" brother-torrent close beneath us atZweilütschinen. To reach the "Platte" we creep in ourtrain up the northern side of the mountain—one of whosepeaks is known by the curious name "Gummihorn"—formore than an hour without a glimpse of what is onthe other side. Then, when we are 6000 feet abovesea-level, we enter a short tunnel in the shoulder of themountain, and all is dark. When the train emergesevery one in it gasps. You hear a cry from every mouth—forthe scene is astounding! Coming through thattunnel we have stolen surreptitiously upon a band ofgigantic snow-white brethren—the Wetterhörner, theSchreckhörner, the Eiger, the Mönch, the Jungfrau, theMittaghorn, the Breithorn, and the Tschingelhorn. Therethey are—lying close to us, unaware of our approach—nakedand unashamed, glistening in the sunlight, variously[Pg 161]stretched in their immense repose. One feels on seeingthem thus free from every scrap of cloud and clothing asthough one had intruded upon a glorious company oftitanic beings innocently sunning themselves in perfectnudity. It is with the sense that humble apologies forthe intrusion are due to them, and will be graciouslyaccepted because we hold them in such profound admirationand reverence, that we venture, little by little, to letour eyes dwell on their wondrous beauty. There aremoments, it must be confessed, when we feel a qualm ofmodesty and are unwilling to take advantage of our rarechance—moments when we should not be surprised ifone of the giants were to hurl a command at us—interms of thunder and avalanche—ordering us at once toretire to the other side of the Gummihorn and leavethem to their rightful privacy. There is no great viewof snow mountains at close range—not even that fromthe Gornergrat—which is at once so fine and so easilyaccessible.

In the following year I went early in June in searchof another Alpine delight, the spring flowers—not thoseof the highest "downs" and sheltering rocks 8000 or9000 feet above sea-level, but those of the highermeadows, where the pine forests are beginning to thinout, and rich crops are cut before July by the skilfulworkers of the great Swiss industry, that of cow-herdingand the production of cheese. It is difficult to defineproperly the term "Alpine" as applied to flowers. It isnow used by horticulturists very generally for thoseexquisite small plants, the Saxifrages, Androsacæ,Gentians, etc., which grow in the highest regions towhich plant-life extends—regions which are often coveredby the winter's snow until June, and even late into thatmonth. Some of these plants (as, for instance, the[Pg 162]Soldanellas—those little lilac-coloured flowers like pendentfoolscaps which are allied to our primrose—and thecrocus and the butterbur (Petasites)) actually blossombeneath the snow and push their open flowers through itto the sunlight. Others of these "higher Alpines" havea peculiar mode of growth related to their special conditionsof life. Their stems are very short and theirfoliage closely set, so that they form compact tufts orcushions, on which their short-stalked brilliant littleflowers are dotted. The fact is they have not time inthe short summer of these high regions to grow longstems. Their flowers are produced on low-lying partsof the plant, which carry small and abundant greenleaves, but never send up long leaf-bearing stems. Notonly do they thus do quickly, and without needlessupward growth, what they have to do—namely, exposegreen leaves to the sunlight for nutrition and theirflowers to the fertilizing visits of insects so as to ripentheir reproductive seeds—but they benefit by keepingclose to the warmth of the ground, which is heated bythe strong sunshine, and is three and a half degreeshigher in temperature than the cold moist air. Insimilar positions in low-lying regions the differencebetween the temperature of the air and that of thesurface of the ground is not as much as one degree.

The Alpine meadows do not occur above the heightof 5000 to 6000 feet, and are bordered by pine woods,in which are many beautiful plants not to be found atall or not in such profusion in the lower valleys. Boththe meadows and woods of the Alpine heights graduateinto those of lower level, and it is difficult to draw theline and say these flowers should be, and these shouldnot be, called "Alpines." Many rock-loving plantsallied to those found at great heights flourish in com[Pg 163]parativelylow-lying regions, where the necessary rockycharacter exists. The flowers of the high Alpinemeadows are not the rock-lovers, the inhabitants of asurface formed by fragments of broken rock, to whichthe name "Alpine" is often limited. The meadowplants grow on good soil, and cover whole acres, inwhich there is but little grass. The fields are colouredof almost uniform blue or white or purple or yellow asthe weeks go on, and various species one after anotherhave their turn of dominance and maturity.

I paid, first of all, a brief visit to Aix and the lakesof Bourget and of Annecy, to the gorge of the RiverFier, and to the finely-situated monastery of the GrandeChartreuse—a huge building, devoid of beauty, whichit seems to be difficult to utilize now that the CarthusianBrothers have been expelled. The richly-coloured Alpinecentaury, deep blue and purple red, was growing inthe woods around it abundantly, and many otherhandsome plants. Zoology was represented by mostexcellent little trout provided for us at the village inn.Then I stayed a couple of days at Geneva, where, ina pool in a richly-planted rock garden—that of thewell-known horticulturist M. Correvon—I came acrosswhat I have long wished to see, namely, the blue varietyof the edible frog. Six years ago I wrote an account ofthe little blue frog of Mentone, the rare variety of thegreen tree-frog, or rainette, so abundant in that region(see "Science from an Easy Chair," p. 50: Methuen, 1910).The edible frog (Rana esculenta) is often very beautifullycoloured with blotches of dark brown and pale green,and a pale yellow stripe down the back. It is easilydistinguished from the brown frog (Rana temporaria),which occurs with it. The latter is the common frogof our islands, though we also find the edible frog in[Pg 164]the South of England. The blue variety of the ediblefrog has been seen in various localities in Germany andalong the valley of the Rhone. It owes its colour, asdoes the blue tree-frog, to the suppression of yellowpigment in its skin. The one I found was swimmingin a small clear pool with two other very finely-markedspecimens of the more usual colouring. A blue varietyof our common brown frog has not been observed,although it is occasionally very pale in colour and, onthe other hand, is sometimes of a bright orange-browntint. Several species of toads and frogs are found onthe Continent which do not occur in Great Britain.

Years ago (when France and Germany began thegreat war of 1869-70) I travelled from Geneva toChamonix by coach. It took the whole day. Now Iand my companion, avoiding the railway, were drivenin a motor-car past Bonneville, Cluses, and Sallanches(with its famous view of Mont Blanc), and along the valeof Chamonix to its far end above Argentière in less thanthree hours. Here we stayed a few days in the Hôteldu Planet, at a height of 4500 feet, in order to enjoythe sight of the meadows and woodland flowers. Imay add that in this quiet hotel the proprietor gaveus simple, good food, well cooked, which is more thanI can say of the large hotels on the lakes and popularresorts, such as Geneva, Montreux, Glion, and Interlaken,where I have carefully inquired into the kitchenarrangements and food supplies. The latter barrack-likeedifices have of late years become intolerable owing tothe mechanical supply to them (by a group of monopolistfinanciers who have acquired the contract) of the nastiestice-stored fish, meat, and vegetables. These are heatedin their kitchens with bottled sauces in patent ovensby underpaid scullery-helps, without the superintendence[Pg 165]of a qualified "cook." The result is a sham—pretentiousand inedible—which yields a fine profit to the hotelcompanies, and is erroneously believed by the travellingcrowds of to-day to be French cookery! In reality itis a new device for bringing the "catering" in all hotelsin the great holiday centres under a monopolist control.The scheme is similar to that to which the continentalrailway companies have yielded in leasing to a well-knowncompany the restaurant and sleeping arrangementson their trains, with the result of causing muchmisery to travellers and profit to themselves and to themonopolists.

Owing to differences in exposure and soil, themeadowland above Argentière showed a fascinatingvariety of colour. Here was an acre of the large-floweredpurple geranium, interspersed with the bigAlpine yellow rattle (a greedy root-parasite); there(near some pine trees) a mass of the yellow anemone(Anemone sulfurea); farther on a whole meadow, bluewith the abundance of large hairbells and viper's bugloss.Close by, in the damper parts of the valley descendingfrom the Col des Montets, three or four acres of meadowlandwere white, so thickly were they covered with tallplants of the distinguished-looking white buttercup(Ranunculus aconitifolius). In some parts, among thesedignified Ranunculi, the plump yellow heads of theglobe-flower (Trollius), also a kind of buttercup, wereabundant. Overshadowed by these larger plants, orgrowing up between them, were orchids, plantains, polygonums,and many others. The most beautiful plantin these meadows was St. Bruno's lily, which we foundin abundance on a steep bank. It is named after thefounder of the Carthusian order, whose monastery (theGrande Chartreuse), first established when William the[Pg 166]Conqueror ruled England, I had visited a week before.St. Bruno's lily has large, white, funnel-shaped flowers,an inch or more long, three or four on a stalk. It isknown to botanists by the pretty name "Paradisialiliastrum." It is the lily of the Alps, pure and unspotted,with a delicious perfume, and six golden stamensguarded by its beautiful and large white corolla. Inthe woods we found some of the larger orchids, andalso whole banks covered with the waxy-looking flowers,variegated in colour, white, yellow, and red, of thelarge millwort, the Polygala chamæbuxus—a plant veryunlike in appearance to the little blue and white milkwortsof England. It flowers in winter as well asthrough the early summer. Another wonderfully waxy-lookingflower which we found is that of the shrubknown as the Alpine Daphne. There is somethingsuggestive of exotic rarity and perfume about a waxy-lookingflower. Of the same character are the flowersof the little shrubs of the genus Vaccinium known asthe bilberry, the wortleberry, the cow-berry, and thebear-berry, which occur on the open scrubland. Therusty-leaved Rhododendron, with its crimson flowers,and the little Azalea (like the Vaccinia—all membersof the Heath family) were abundant—as well as thetrue dark-red rose of the Alps, the richly-scented Rosaalpina.

We left Argentière and the constant companionshipof the great glaciers of the vale of Chamonix, anddescended by train through the awe-inspiring valley ofthe Trient (up which we used to walk many years ago,on our way to the higher regions) to Martigny, andthen drove for four hours up a rough mountain road tothe hotel of Pierre-à-voir—whence we descended a fewdays later in sledges, over grass slopes and torrent beds,[Pg 167]4000 feet in an hour and a quarter, to Saxon in theRhone valley, a truly alarming experience. The "luge"or sledge is supported in front by a strong mountaineerwho prevents it from "hurtling" down at breakneck speed,topsy-turvy. As the avoidance of such a catastrophedepends on the strength and the sureness of foot ofthis individual, travelling by "luges" is not to berecommended in summer, however agreeable it may bewhen the mountain side is covered with snow. Inthe woods near Pierre-à-voir we found another memberof the Heath family, looking like a lily rather than aheath, the sweet-scented winter-green with its largesingle white flower (Pirola uniflora), and on the rockson open ground masses of the pink flowers of the littlerock soap-wort (Saponaria ocymoides). The curioustall, big-leaved composite with only three purple floretsto a head, the Adenostyles albifrons, was here muchin evidence. We were too early for the flowers of thepretty little creeping plant allied to the honeysucklewhich the great Linnæus asked his friend Gronovius toname after him, the Linnæa borealis, though we hadbeen told that it grows in this neighbourhood.

Then we spent five days at Glion and on the incomparableLake of Geneva, never wearied of gazing atthe changing mysterious lights and colours (sapphire,emerald, and silver) of its vast and restful expanse.

The question often is asked, "Why is it that thesame species of flower is brighter and stronger in colourwhen growing high up in the Alps than when growingin the lowlands and in our own country?" The fact isadmitted; the blues of the blue-bells (Campanula), thebugloss, the forget-me-nots, the crimsons and purples ofthe geraniums and the pinks and the campions, and many[Pg 168]others, are examples. Careful study and considerationof the facts have enabled botanists to show, in manyinstances, within recent years, that the peculiarities ofform and also of colour of the stems, leaves, and flowersof plants are not mere unmeaning "accidents," but aredefinitely of advantage and of "survival value" to thespecies. Thus we have seen that the tuft-like cushionsformed by high Alpine plants are explained. Thepurple and reddish colour of stalks and leaves like that ofthe red variety of the common beech has not always, asin that plant, the purpose of protecting the chlorophyllfrom destruction by too vivid sunlight. In Alpine plantsit is often present on the underside of leaves and of thepetals, and acts to the plant's benefit, absorbing light andconverting it into heat. But it also seems in many casesto protect the juices of the plant from the destructiveaction of white light.

It is held by some botanists that the bright colourof Alpine (and Norwegian) samples of a flower elsewhereof a paler colour is due to the direct action of the greatersunlight of the high regions in causing the formation ofpigment. This is inadmissible. The sunlight cannotact in that way. It causes increased formation ofnutriment by acting on the chlorophyll, and an Alpineplant thus highly charged with nutritive matters canafford to form more abundant pigment than a plantwhich enjoys less brilliant sunshine. The high-colouredAlpine flowers are a breed or race; a pale-colouredplant taken to the Alps from below does not itself becomehigh coloured. It is a matter of natural selection.The occasional high-coloured "spontaneous" variationsproduced from seed have an advantage in the shortsummer of the high Alps. They attract the visits ofthe few insects in the short season more surely than do[Pg 169]the paler individuals, and consequently they are fertilizedand reproduce, whilst the race of the paler individualsdies out from failure to attract the insects. Thus weget a high-coloured race established in the mountains,a race that can make haste and seize the brief opportunitiesof the short but brilliant summer. There aremany peculiarities of form and colour of plants the lifeconditions of which are diverse (e.g., woodland, moorland,aquatic, seashore, dry air, moist air, etc.), which can beshown by accurate observation to be specially relatedto those life conditions. Those conditions allow thepeculiarities to survive and establish a race, in somecases a species, whilst preventing the maturity ordestroying the life of those individuals not presentingthat advantageous peculiarity of variation.

THERE is at the present day in this country a realand most happy revival of interest in the greatart of dancing as exhibited on the stage. We owe thisto the creative ability of the musical composers anddirectors of the Russian Imperial Ballet, as well as tothe highly-trained and gifted Russian artists who havevisited this country, and especially to the poetical geniusof Madame Anna Pavlova. Though dancing may seem,on first thought, a subject remote from science, yet, likeall other human developments, it is a matter for scientificinvestigation, and one upon which science can throwmuch light. What is the origin and essential nature of"dancing"? Do animals dance? What is its earlyhistory in mankind? What is its relation not merelyhistorically, but from the point of view of psychology—thestudy of the mind—to other arts? What is its real"value" and possible achievement?

To dance is to trip with measured steps, and, whilstprimarily referring to human movement, the word issecondarily applied to rapid rhythmic movements evenof inanimate objects. Rhythm is what distinguishesdancing from ordinary movement of progression or fromsimple gesture or mere antics. Dancing on the part of[Pg 171]man or animal implies a sense of rhythm. Though notcommon amongst animals, it is exhibited by many birds,by spiders, and by some crustaceans! Rhythm is anessential feature of the sequence of sounds which we call"music." The singing of birds is related to their perceptionof and pleasure in rhythm, and it is not, therefore,surprising that they should also dance. It is,however, curious that the birds which "dance" are notthe "singing birds," and that there are many birds whichneither sing nor dance. The dancing of birds is usuallypart of the "display" of the males for the purpose ofattracting the females at the breeding season. It is wellknown in some African cranes, as well as in rails andother similar birds, and may be witnessed at theZoological Gardens in London. Other birds "strut"rather than dance, whilst displaying their plumage, as,for instance, the turkey and pheasant tribe and thebustards. Parrots and cockatoos will often make arhythmical up-and-down movement of the neck in timeto music, but usually the "dance" is the accompanimentof definite emotion. The male spider of some speciescourts the female by making dancing movements andposing itself in a very curious way, so as to display aspot of bright colour on the head to her observation.The same kind of movement and action has beenobserved in marine shrimp-like creatures. Some spidersare excited and made to dance by the vibrating note ofa tuning-fork set going near them. I once had thechance to observe a male octopus in the aquarium atNaples, who was displaying himself to the female,changing colour rapidly from one shade to another, androlling his long sucker-bearing arms in the form ofspirals. Probably one should not consider this as a"dance," since no rhythmic interruption or succession ofmovements was observable.

It is established that in mankind, as well as manyanimals, when in a state of emotion, movement andgesture, as well as the vocal utterance, take on arhythmic character, that is to say, become a dance anda song. The emotion is not necessarily that of amorouspassion; in mankind it is frequently of a warlike orreligious character, and is worked up by the sympathy,imitativeness, and desire for unison in expression whichis common in troops or large gatherings of animals ofsocial habits. Man presents a more advanced developmentin variety, sensitiveness, and abandonment to socialor combined action and expression than do other animals,and this is equally true of the more civilized and of themore barbarous races. Apparently in obedience to thesame tendencies as those which convert simple forms ofmovement into a rhythmic dance, the speech of man,under conditions of emotion, assumes a rhythmic form, sothat dancing bears the same relation to the ordinarymovements of locomotion and gesture which verse doesto ordinary speech, or, again, which song bears to mereexclamations and cries, indicative of feeling. Dancing isthe universal and most primitive expression of that senseof rhythm which is a widely distributed attribute of thenervous system in animals generally. In primitive menit is a simple but often very violent demonstration ofstrong emotion, such as social joy, religious exaltation,martial ardour, or amatory passion. The voice and thefacial muscles, as well as those of the limbs and body,are affected, and the dancers derive an intense pleasurefrom the excitement, which so far from exhausting themleads them on to more and more violent rhythmic orundulatory action. In its purest form this ecstaticcondition is seen in the spinning dervishes. It wasdeveloped into the mad and dangerous festivals of theworshippers of Bacchus and other deities in ancient[Pg 173]Greece. It has been seen in mediaeval Europe as thedancing mania and tarantism. The liability to this andsimilar forms of "mania" lurks beneath the surfaceamong populations which are nevertheless staid andphlegmatic in their usual behaviour. The Romans inancient times recognized its unhealthy character, andthough fond of ceremonial dances and theatrical shows,and even of the performances of dancing girls fromGreece and the East, disapproved of dancing on thepart of a Roman citizen. Cicero says, "As a rule noone, who is not drunk, dances—unless he is, temporarily,out of his mind."

Although the mad performances of bacchanaliansand dervishes are recognized as unhealthy, civilizedpeoples in Europe since the fifteenth century havedeveloped and practised dancing as an art in twodirections—first, as a popular amusement in whichdefinite combinations of graceful movements are performedfor the sake of the pleasure which the exerciseaffords to the dancer and to the spectator, and secondly,as carefully trained movements which are meant by thedancer vividly to represent the actions and passions ofother people, and are exhibited by specially skilledperformers on a stage. The first kind is what we call"country dances," "popular dances," also "Court andball-room dances," and has been commended by thephilosopher Locke and other writers as a valuable trainingfor both mind and body, and by physicians as a health-givingexercise. The second is "the ballet."

In the dances of savages and primitive peoples, somekind of music is always found associated with dancing,the one helping and developing the other; they aredescendants of one parentage. Very commonly, too,[Pg 174]some kind of "acting"—the representation of a hunt, afight, or a love adventure—is an important feature ofsuch dancing. Modern popular and Court dances areintimately connected with and dependent on specialmusic, the rhythm and variation of time and strength inwhich is, as it were, illustrated by the dancing, and servesto guide it and to keep the dancers in unison. Thesignification behind all such modern dancing is courtship—theaddresses of the man to the woman, and herelusive reception or rejection of them. In the Cathedralof Seville, however, you may still see, at the festival ofthe Corpus Christi, a religious dance, a dance of worshipand adoration, performed by acolytes in front of thehigh altar. In the early days of the Church suchritual dancing, by both old and young, was a regularthing, as it was in the still earlier religious ceremoniesof the ancient Romans and in the time of KingDavid.

The development of dancing as a fine art has onlybeen rendered possible by the establishment, under thepatronage of various European princes, of great exhibitionsof dancing, called "ballets," and the creation of aprofession of dancers, who, like professional actors andmusicians, devote their lives to the study of their artand the training necessary for efficiency in its practice.In this, its highest development, dancing, whilst maintainingits dominance, is entirely dependent on the aidof music, and becomes blended with the art of the actorand pantomimist. As in "opera" the effect of themusical art is enhanced by the meaning of the wordssung, by the acting of the performers, and by theaccessories of scenery and costume, so in the ballet doall these factors, except the human voice, contribute tothe artistic result. The latest development of the ballet[Pg 175]is, in fact, "grand opera," without a voice, without words.Gesture, facial expression, and movement of the limbs,marvellous for its grace and directness of appeal, takethe place of words. In fact, dance, the appeal to theeye, takes the place of verse, the appeal to the ear. Andit is a fact, unexpected and astonishing to those new toit, that the same quality of "poetic imagination" whichdistinguishes "word-poems" from mere doggerel orcommonplace verse, can also inspire the great dancer andgive to a wordless dance the unmistakable value ofpoetical art, distinguishing it from purely acrobatic orbarbaric capering. It is a fact that poetic imaginationmay be conveyed in one kind of art as in another, andthat dancing, though greatly limited in its range ofdetailed expression, yet is closely similar in its forms tomusic, verse, and to glyptic and pictorial art, of all ofwhich it is the parent and forerunner. Its primitivecharacter is no less remarkable than the readiness withwhich it exerts its charm and develops new importanceat the present day.

Regarded as a fine art, and not merely as a pastime,dancing has frequently great beauty in its simple qualityof the rhythmic movement of decorative form and colour.The dances depicted on Greek vases had this character,and so, with varying degree of merit, have the balletscommon during the last fifty years in London and othergreat centres. But before this period the makers ofballets (a word originally signifying to dance, to sing, torejoice, and representing three modern words—ballet,ball, and ballad) did not aim at a mere exhibition ofliving rhythmic decoration, but at the production of atheatrical performance in which a story is told only bygesture and dancing accompanied by music. The realmodern founder and exponent of the ballet as thus[Pg 176]understood was Noverre, a Frenchman (called byGarrick "the Shakespeare of the dance"), who died in1810. He brought to a high degree of perfection theart of presenting a story by pantomime, and he neverallowed dancing which was not the direct expression ofa particular attitude of mind. His professed effort wasto introduce the steps and poses of ancient Greekdancing shown in sculpture and painted pottery—asthemodel for stage dancing. And he succeeded. Thegreat dancers of the past who are known to us bytradition—Vestris, Camargo in the eighteenth, and Cerito,Grisi, and Taglioni in the earlier half of the nineteenthcentury—were not merely perfectly trained as dancers,but were actors, and possessed poetic imagination.Women did not appear in the ballet until the time ofLouis XIV, and Mlle. Camargo was the first to wear theconventional short stiff ballet skirt.

"Convention" has a great weight in such matters.But it seems to be undeniable that the conventionalballet-skirt conceals the beautiful movement of the legon the hip joint, a disadvantage from which the maledancer does not suffer. Skirts are, in fact, out of place inreally fine dancing. Flowing light drapery, or better stillthe Circassian jacket and full gauzy trousers fastened atthe ankles, are the only possible dress for a really greatdanseuse.

The dramatic ballet orballet d'action lasted untilthe end of the fifties in London, and then ceased almostsuddenly to occupy the leading position which it onceheld at the Opera House. In London, as in Paris andVienna, it was transformed into a mere spectaculardisplay of costume and meaningless rhythmic drill. Thedramatic ballet ceased to exist. The great tradition offine stage-dancing and ballet-drama was, however,[Pg 177]preserved in Russia. It is not easy to explain, but thefact is that two peoples so far apart as the Russians andthe Spaniards are more devoted to dancing than anyother European nationalities. Successive Tsars havespent large sums in maintaining colleges in St.Petersburg and in Moscow, where boys and girls arelodged and carefully educated whilst they are trainedfrom the age of ten years in the art of stage-dancing.The greatest musical composers have been encouragedto write "ballets," and the ablest designers and "producers"have been secured by large salaries. Somethinglike £80,000 a year is spent by the Tsar on themaintenance and development of this beautiful art, whichis dead elsewhere, but seems to fit the genius of theRussian people. A new respect for Russia, a profoundadmiration for the Russian artists, has been the result ofthe revelation of the Russian ballet by the recent visitsof its members to this country.

During the last thirty years of its period of nurtureand development in Russia the ballet has developed intwo directions. Neither of these are popular and successfulin Russia, where the old traditional and establishedballet of the early nineteenth century—what may becalled "academic" dancing—is alone in demand. Whatwe call "the Russian ballet" is dramatic in nature, andincludes such wonderful combinations of music, scenery,costume, and perfect artistic expression by dancing andgesture as we have seen in Scheherazade, Cleopatra,Prince Igorre, Tamar, and Petrouschka. It promisesin its latest development to supplant the musical dramaknown as "opera," in which the human voice is used.But the most striking development is that in whichdancing appears as the exponent of lyrical poetry. It isto the teaching of Isadora Duncan that the Russian[Pg 178]dancers admit their indebtedness for this new departure.When undertaken by untrained dancers and amateurs(even by the innovator herself) the attempt to interpretlyrical subjects showed some ingenuity in conception,but failed to command general appreciation, as theefforts of a painter or an actor, who has not acquiredcommand of the material of his art, also fail. But whenAnna Pavlova brought her lifelong training as a dancer andher poetic imagination to the interpretation of masterpiecesof music inspired by such subjects as "Night,""The Dying Rose," "The Wounded Swan," and themoonlight mystery of "Les Sylphides," a new and mostpoignant form of emotional expression became apparent.A single figure moving over the stage with expressivesteps and gestures of the arms, with lips and eyes guidedand controlled by consummate art, blended itself with andinterpreted to the spectator the poetic thought of a greatmusical composer and a great writer. This new developmentof the dancer's art may remain with us. But itrequires the presence of one who combines the rare giftspossessed by Madame Pavlova—perfect technique andpoetic sympathy.

Many people derive a definite part of the pleasuregiven to them by an orchestral concert from the contemplationof the movements of the instrumentalists andthe directive interpreting gestures of a great "conductor."Others would prefer the orchestra and its leader to beunseen; they find special delight in hearing great musicsurge and float from no visible source through the dimly-litaisles of a vast cathedral. They do not desire theireyes to be called in aid of music unless the appeal tovision is complete and worthy of the theme. It is, Ithink, undeniable that Dr. Richter and my friend SirHenry Wood, whose expressive backs and persuasive[Pg 179]hands are so dear to concert audiences, are a kind ofdwindled ballet dancers, connected by the drum-major ofthe military band and the dancing "choragus" with theprimeval phase of the arts when music and dancingwere inseparable.

IT is always amusing to find the lower animalsbehaving in various circumstances of life verymuch as we do ourselves. There is a tendency to lookupon such conduct on the animals' part as a more orless clever mimicry of humanity—a sort of burlesque ofour own behaviour. Really, however, it has a far greaterinterest; it is a revelation to us of the nature and origin inour animal ancestry of various deeply-rooted "behaviours"which are common to us and animals. The wooing of amaid by a man and the various strange antics and posesto which love-sick men and women are addicted, arerepresented by similar behaviour among animals, andthat, too, not only among higher animals allied to man,but even among minute and obscure insects and molluscs.In fact, the elementary principle of "courtship" or"wooing," namely, the pursuit of the female by themale, is observed among the lowest unicellular organisms—theProtozoa and the Protophyta—and it holdsamong plants as well as among animals, for it is thepollen—the male fertilizing material—which travels,carried by wind or by the nectar-bribed "parcels-deliverycompany" of bees, to the ovules of a distant flower, andnot the ovules (the female products) which desert theirhomes in quest of pollen.

The "reproduction," or producing of new individuals,of many animals and plants can be, and is, effected bythe detachment of large pieces of a parent organism.Thus plants split into two or more pieces, each of whichcarries on life as a new individual. Many worms andpolyps multiply by breaking into two or more pieces,and very often the broken-off pieces which thus becomenew individuals and carry on the race are extremelysmall, even microscopic in size. The spores of ferns andthe minute separable buds of many plants and animalsare of this nature. They grow into new individualswithout any fusion with fertilizing particles from anotherindividual. Yet there seems to be even in the verysimplest living things a need to be met, an advantage tobe gained, in the fusion of the substance of two distinctparents in order to carry on the race with the best chanceof success. We find that those organisms which canmultiply by buds and fission yet also multiply regularlyby ovules fertilized by sperms. We see this process inits simplest condition in microscopic plants and animalswhich are so minute that they consist of only a single"cell"—a single nucleated particle of protoplasm. Suchunicellular organisms have definite shape, even limb-likelocomotor organs, shells, contractile heart-like cavitieswithin the protoplasm, even mouths, digestive tract, anda vent. They produce new individuals by merelydividing into two equal halves or by more rapidlydividing into several individuals each like the parent,only smaller. But from time to time, at recurringperiods or seasons, two of these unicellular individuals(of course, two of the same kind or species) come intocontact with one another, not by mere chance, butattracted and impelled (probably by chemical guiding oralluring substances of the nature of perfumes) towardsone another, and then fuse into one. Two (or sometimes[Pg 182]several) individuals thus melt together and become oneindividual—a process the exact reverse of the division ofone into two. This is known to microscopists as "conjugation."The new individual resulting from conjugationafter a time divides, and the individuals thus produced,each consisting of a mixture of the fused and thoroughlymixed substance of the two conjugated individuals, feedand grow and divide in their turn, and so on for severalgenerations, until again the epidemic of conjugation setsin, and the scattered offspring of many distinct pairs ofthe previous conjugation-season in their turn conjugate.

It is clear that the tendency of this process is toprevent the continued multiplication of one stock or lineof descent in a pure state. By conjugation different linesof descent—the progeny of different individuals, oftenbrought together from widely separate localities—areblended and fused. And this is, we are led to conclude,a matter of immense importance. To effect this mixtureof separate stocks is, as Darwin has shown, a primepurpose of the habits and structures implanted in thevery substance of living things, and developed andaccentuated in endless ways and with extraordinaryelaboration of mechanisms and procedure during theimmense lapse of ages during which life has unfoldedand developed on this earth. The fusion of differentstrains by conjugation gives increased variation in theoffspring or new generations: for the two parental strainsdiffer more or less, as all living individuals do, from oneanother. The result of their fusion is different fromeither parent. In fact, the process of fusion itself causesa disturbance—a readjustment of the living matter—sothat completely new variations result and are selected orrejected in the struggle for existence. Either parentalstrain was perhaps not so suitable to a newly developed[Pg 183]change in the surrounding conditions of life as the newblend may be. Thus a more certain and active productionof possibly useful variations is provided forthan would be the case were the variations of one self-multiplyingstock alone presented for selection.

In the case of simple conjugation the cell individualswhich fuse or "mate" with one another, and may becalled "maters" or "mating cells," are in all respectssimilar to one another. But we find among the unicellularplants and animals cases in which one of themating cells, instead of fusing with another straight away,divides into a number of much smaller cells, which arevery active in locomotion and are specially produced inorder to mate or fuse with the larger cells. The matingcells are called "gametes," and the large motionlessmating cells are called "macro-gametes," or "largematers," whilst the small motile mating cells are called"micro-gametes," or small "maters." The former are ofthe same nature as egg cells or ovules, the female reproductiveparticles, whilst the latter, the small "maters,"are identical in nature with the sperms or spermatozoaor male reproductive particles of higher organisms. Inthe case of certain parasitic unicellular animals calledcoccidia, and also in the parasite which causes malarialfever, quantities of small "mating cells" are producedwhich fuse with or "fertilize" other much larger matingcells. The small "maters" of coccidia have longvibrating tails and minute oblong bodies, and agreeclosely in appearance and active locomotion with thespermatozoa of higher animals and plants. The largespherical mating cells might be mistaken for the eggcells of larger animals. In the globe animalcule, Volvoxglobator, we find a transitional condition leading usto the production of small (male) and large (female)[Pg 184]mating cells, like those regularly produced by the massiveplants and animals which are built up by hundreds ofthousands of "cells" or protoplasmic units conjoinedand performing different services for the common life.Volvox is one of those simple aquatic organisms whichis not a single cell but a group of many cells (somehundred) hanging together—in this case so as to form ahollow sphere. All the cells of an individual sphere arealike, and have originated by division from one first cell.When the "breeding season" arrives one or two cells ofthe sphere increase in bulk—they become "large matingcells"—in fact, egg cells. At the same time one or twodivide (without separating), so as to form packets ofminute oblong cells with vibrating tails. These are"small maters," or "spermatozoa." When ripe theyseparate and swim away to fertilize—that is to say, tofuse with—the large "mating cells" or egg cells of otherVolvox spheres. Such a Volvox sphere as I havedescribed is "bi-sexual": it produces both large andsmall mating cells, both male and female reproductivecells. But sometimes we find that a number of Volvoxspheres produce only large mating cells by the swellingup of one or two of their constituent cells. They are,in fact, female Volvox spheres. And other Volvoxspheres produce only packets of small mating cells bythe splitting and change of one or two of their constituentcells. They are male Volvox spheres.

When we now look at the higher plants and animalsformed of aggregations of innumerable cells (all derivedfrom the division of a first cell—an embryo cell orfertilized egg cell) we find that amongst the mass ofvariously shaped cells forming the "tissues" of thesehigher organisms some are set apart even in early growthas "mating cells" (gametes or reproductive cells).[Pg 185]Usually they are in two groups—namely, the ovary, whichincludes the large mating cells or egg cells or ova; andthe spermary, which includes the cells which break upinto small mating cells or sperms. In many animalsboth ovary and spermary are present in the sameindividual, but in most of the larger animals (insects,crustaceans, and vertebrates) either the ovary is suppressed,when the creature is called a male, and producesonly small mating cells, or the spermary is suppressed,and the creature is a female, producing only egg cells.In both cases there may be a distinct but minute representativeof the suppressed organ present and recognizableby its microscopic structure.

The point in this history, which seems to be importantand must not be lost sight of, is that the small matingcell is in all the stages cited actively mobile and swimsrapidly through water when its producer is an aquaticanimal. The large mating cell is quiescent. It is moreor less swollen with granular nutrient particles—oftenvastly so enlarged. It already is acting the maternalpart, preparing nourishment for the growing embryowhich will develop from its protoplasm when fused withthat of the relatively tiny but active male mating cell.And it is certainly very noteworthy that when these twokinds of mating cells become separated in distinct"carriers" (that is to say, produced one without theother in what are called male and female individuals),the primitive character of the mating cells—whicheverof the two kinds they be—impresses itself on the complexelaborate many-celled organism in which they arise.The male is the more active, the more disposed totravel. It is always the male who seeks, courts, woos,and attacks the female, as the small mating cells seekand attack the larger mating cells. The character and[Pg 186]conduct of the female animal is largely (not withoutdeviations and additions) based on that of the largermating cell or macro-gamete; she is the one who waits,is sought, is courted, and wooed. And like the eggcells of which she is the vehicle and envelope, she isspecially concerned in the provision of nutriment for theearly growth of the young.

Courtship, then, seems to have had its foundationsvery deeply laid, even in the earliest and simplest formsof life—at the time when the principle of the union ofthe substance of two strains to produce a new generationwas established, and when, further, the active, seekingmale cell was differentiated from the immobile nourishingfemale cell.

Amongst the polyps, sea-anemones, and jelly-fish,though we frequently find that there are distinct malesand females, there is no courtship. This is connectedwith the fact that, like plants, they are (excepting thejelly-fish) fixed and immobile. The male cannot "court"the female, because neither of them can approach theother. I once saw in the aquarium at Naples a suddenand simultaneous discharge of a white cloud, like dust,into the water from half the magnificent sea-anemonesfixed and immobile in three large tanks. The cloudconsisted of millions of the small "mating cells," andwere thrown off by the males. They were carried farand wide by the stream running through the tanks.In the sea such a discharge would be carried along bycurrents, and might fertilize egg-bearing sea-anemones ofthe same species growing a mile or two away.

It is when we have to do with actively movinganimals that "courtship" comes into existence. It has[Pg 187]many features and phases, which comprise simple discoveryof the female and presentation of himself by thecourting male; attempts to secure the female's attention,and to fascinate and more or less hypnotize her, by displayof brilliant colours or unusual and astonishing poses ormovements (such as dancing) on the part of the male;efforts of the male to attach the female to himself, anddeadly, often fatal, combats with other males, in order todrive them off and secure a recognized and respected solitudefor himself and his mate. The courtship of manyinsects, crustaceans, molluscs, fishes, reptiles, birds, andmammals has been watched and recorded in regard to thesedetails. Naturally enough, it is in the higher forms, thebirds and the mammals, that there are the most elaborateand intelligible proceedings in regard to the attraction ofthe female. But when we compare what birds or, in fact,any animal, does with what man does, we must rememberthat man has, as compared with them, an immensememory, and has also consciousness. All other animalsare to a very large extent mere automata, pleasurablyconscious, perhaps (in the higher forms), of the passingmoment and of the actions which they are instinctivelyperforming, but without any understanding or thoughton the subject. They cannot think because, thoughsome of them are endowed to a limited extent withmemory, they have not arrived at the human stage ofmental development when consciousness takes accountof memory, a memory of enormously increased varietyand duration.

Man has more and more, as he has advanced inmental growth, rejected the unreasoning instinctiveclasses of action, and substituted for them action basedon his own experience and conscious memory, actionwhich is the result of education—not the education of[Pg 188]the school, but that of life in all its variety. But inmany things he is still entirely guided by unreasoningmechanical instinct, and in others he is partly impelledby the old inherited instinct, partly restrained and guidedby reason based on experience and memory. This makesthe comparison of the courting man with the courtinganimal doubly interesting. We ought to distinguishwhat he is doing as a result of ancient inheritedmechanism from what he is doing as a result of consciousobservation, memory, and reasoning.

THE German poet Schiller arrived long ago at theconclusion that the machinery of the world is drivenby hunger and by love. If we join with hunger, which isthe craving of the individual for nourishment, the activitieswhich aim at self-defence,—whether against competitorsfor food, against would-be devourers, or against dangersto life and limb, from storm, flood, and temperature,—wemay accept Schiller's statement as equivalent to this,namely, that the activities and the mechanisms of livingthings are related to two great ends—the preservationof the individual and the preservation of the race."Love," or what we should call in more discriminatinglanguage "amorousness," or the "mating hunger," isthe absolute and inherent attribute of living things uponwhich the preservation of the race depends. The preservationof the individual is of less importance in thescheme of Nature than the preservation of the race, andwe find that food-hunger and the risk of dangers of allkinds to the continuance of an individual life are madeof no account when satisfaction of mate-hunger and thepreservation and perpetuation of the race requires thesacrifice or the shortening of the life, or the permanentdistortion or self-immolation of the individual. Eccentricbehaviour and strange exaggeration of form and colour,as judged by the standard of preservation of the in[Pg 190]dividual,are found to be explained as due to structures(nervous or other) implanted in the race by naturalselection, because, and in consequence of, the fact thatthey tend to the satisfaction of mate-hunger, and consequentlyto the preservation of the race.

The fact that the male animal seeks out the femalein order to mate with her leads to a competitionamongst males in "courtship," both in man and in thehigher and lower grades of the animal series. "Courtship"comprises many procedures. Among them arethe seizing and sometimes carrying off of the female bythe mate-seeking male; or else the attraction of theattention of the female by the male, and her subsequentfascination by him, followed by her responsive excitementand assent to union. Fighting, often to the death, betweenrival suitors not unfrequently occurs.

Any animal practising the first of these arts ofcourtship must have developed greater strength and sizethan the female, and special claws or jaws or prehensilelimbs which will become emphasized and increased insize by the success of the better-endowed males, andtheir consequent "natural selection" as parents. Thiselementary and violent form of courtship is found inprimitive man, and is inferred to exist amongst thehigher apes. It is also seen in many mammals, and infrogs and toads, and in some of the Crustacea and insectswhich are provided with powerful claws, jaws, or limbs.

The second set of "courtship" activities mentionedabove, which are of a persuasive (often hypnotic) andnon-violent nature, are more widely distributed andvaried. They include a number which come under thegeneral head of "display," whether the appeal be by[Pg 191]sound (the voice), by odour, or by strange antics andgorgeous colour. They involve the production of themost remarkable special structures; and by their appealto the human sense of hearing, smell, and sight are inmany cases well known and familiar to us. Followingupon "display" are what may be classed as "caresses"—attemptsto soothe and to subjugate the female by thesense of touch.

The third kind of activity developed in "courtship"is that of fighting—fighting to the death with other suitors.It involves the production of all those natural weapons,horns, tusks, and special claws or spurs with which maleanimals fight one another at the breeding season. Italso involves that perfection of muscular strength,rapidity, and skill in action which have enabled onemale to triumph over others, and whilst destroying orbanishing his less perfect opponent to transmit his ownsuperior qualities to his offspring. It seems that to thisincessantly recurring and relentless struggle betweenmales, in courtship for the favour of the female, morerapid and important changes and developments ofanimal structure and endowments are due than to themore obvious competition for food, safety from enemies,and shelter. Thus muscular power, grasping and aggressiveweapons, wonderful colours, forms and patternswhich catch the eye, perfumes and powers of song andarresting cries, instinctive antics and caresses, have beendeveloped in the males and transmitted to some extentto both sexes, but predominantly to the males.

Mr. Pycraft, in his book on this subject,[5] remarksthat the tremendous power of "mate-hunger" has beenoverlooked by a strange confusion of cause and effect.[Pg 192]Almost universally its sequel, the production of offspring,has been regarded as the dominant instinct in the higheranimals, but this view has no foundation in fact. Desire,for the sake of the pleasure which its gratification affords,and not its consequences, is the only hold on life whichany race possesses. And this is true both in the caseof man himself and of the beasts that perish. Thosewhose business it is, for one reason or another, to studythese emotions, know well that "mate-hunger" may beas ravenous as food-hunger, and that, with some exceptions,it is immensely more insistent in the males thanin the females. But for this appetite, reproduction inmany species could not take place, for the sexes oftenlive far apart, and mates are only to be won afterdesperate conflict with powerful rivals no less inflamed.It is idle to speak of an equality between the sexes inthis matter, either in regard to animals or in the humanrace. The male is dominated by the desire to gratify thesexual appetite; in the female this is modified by thestimulation of other instincts concerned with the care ofoffspring. Amorousness is the underlying factor whichhas shaped and is sustaining human society, and is noless powerful among the lower animals. Much that isconsidered contrary to human nature, and either outrageousor ridiculous, would be understood and wiselydealt with if knowledge of nature, including man's nature,were cultivated, and took the place of vain assertions as to"what should be," accompanied by ignorance of "what is."

An excellent sample of the more violent method of"courtship by seizure" is found in the proceedings of thenorthern fur-seal as described by Mr. Pycraft. The oldbulls, after spending the greater part of the year in theopen sea, arrive at the rocks which serve as the breedinggrounds a full month before the cows arrive. The[Pg 193]younger bulls attempt, but fail, to get a place on therocks. The bull holding the most advantageous place—thenearest to the landing-place—starts the collecting ofcows. Having seized the first arrival, he places her byhis side. As the later females arrive he proceeds in thesame way. He soon has "herded" more cows than hecan control. He cannot be in two places at once, andin scuttling off to chastise some covetous neighbour whois eloping with one of his wives, one or more bulls on theopposite side of his harem proceed to make capturesfrom his horde. This sort of thing goes on till all thecows have been appropriated, according to the herdingand holding capacities of the bulls, leaving a crowd ofenvious bachelors in the background not strong enoughor courageous enough to fight. Each bull is master ofthe situation, whether his harem consists of five cows orfifty. If a cow is restless he growls at her. If she triesto escape he fiercely bites her, and if she tries to outrunhim he seizes her by the skin of the neck and tosses herback, often torn and bleeding, into the family circle.Sometimes a cow is killed by the struggle of two bullsto pull her in opposite directions, and in this way themore querulous and discontented cows are eliminated ineach generation, and the peculiarly gentle and passivenature characteristic of the cow seals has been developed.For three long months the bull seal has to keep watchand ward fasting. This is a most exceptional strain andeffort, for in other animals fasting is associated withabsolute rest and sleep. The bull fur-seal arrives at thebreeding ground fat and in fine condition; he leaves it,though triumphant, a starved and battered wreck.

The more agreeable arts of courtship are exhibitedby birds in greatest variety and in more familiarexamples than in any other animals. The use of odours[Pg 194]secreted by special glands as attractions to the femalesis frequent in the mammals—such as the musk-deer,the musk-rat, the civet, and many common hoofedanimals, such as deer, antelopes, goats, and sheep—buthas not been noticed in birds, though known in butterfliesand moths. It is in the use of the voice in singingand in the special display of gorgeous plumage, grown,so to speak, for the purpose at the breeding season, andin strutting, fantastic posturing, and in dancing that themale bird excels. Not all birds do all these things, andfemale birds do none of them as a rule.

I must break off for a moment here to warn thereader that whilst we find it difficult not to speak ofthese activities of the male bird and male animalsgenerally in the same terms as we speak of suchbehaviours in human beings, there is yet a fundamentaldifference between the two cases which is apt to be lostsight of in consequence of the language used. Whenthe musk-deer and other mammals attract the femaleby a scent, they have no consciousness or understandingof what they are doing. They do not as a matter ofthought and intention produce their perfume any morethan the birds produce their gay breeding plumageby "taking thought," or the stag his great antlers orthe boar his tusks. Man is, on the contrary, in thesematters, as in many others, ill-provided with naturalautomatically-growing mechanisms of life-saving or race-perpetuatingimportance. Though the behaviour of manin courtship is singularly like that of many animals, hehas not inherited an automatically-produced bundle ofcharms to allure the other sex. He has had to thinkthe matter out and to consciously and deliberately"make" or procure from external sources both perfumesand coloured decorations and arresting (often absurd and[Pg 195]astounding) "costumes." The males of the most savageand primitive races of men are like the bigger apes,devoid of natural "charms"; they do not allure by sweetodours, by brilliant colours, nor by caressing musicalvoices. They have not these possessions as naturalgrowths of their own bodies, and they have not yetlearned—probably not yet desired—to "make" or to"procure" them. There is consequently a great gulf inkind between many of the details of animal and humancourtship. We have no knowledge of how the extinctcreatures between ape and man stood in this respect.

In the matter of forcible seizure the conduct of theprimitive man is on precisely the same footing as thatof the fur-seal. As to when he began to learn from thebirds and to do consciously what they do unconsciously—noone knows. In regard to the fighting with othermales—man appears at a very early period to havegiven up the use of his natural weapons, the teeth, andto have discovered the greater utility of sharp stonesand heavy clubs, and thus to have again placed himselfapart from male animals, which depend on and developautomatically their tusks, horns, and claws in consequenceof their value in fighting. The great interest ofthe jaw of the man-like Eoanthropus from Piltdown isthat it was still fitted with a large canine tooth like thatof a gorilla, big enough to be useful in a fight with anotherPiltdowner(see p. 287). But it dwindled, and in thecourse of time very early man-like extinct creatures weredeveloped who had ceased to have big canines. Theymade use of chipped flints instead.

This substitution by man of "extraneous" weapons,decorations, and alluring appeals to the senses in placeof those "intrinsic" to the animal body is all the more[Pg 196]interesting, since we find that such substitution is alreadymade by a number of birds, as, for instance, the magpieand the jackdaw, who collect all sorts of bright objects.The allied bower-bird of Australia makes a "play-run" orreception-room in which he places shells and bits of boneto attract the female, and the gardener bird of New Guineaclears a space in the scrub, roughly fences it and decorates itdaily with bright-coloured flowers and mushrooms, freshlygathered and placed there by him, as any human bachelormay decorate his sitting-room for the delectation of hislady friends! It is a very noteworthy fact that these birds,which use extraneous decorative objects as lures, are themselvesof dull plumage, but are allied to the wonderfulgroup of Birds of Paradise, which show the greatest varietyand brilliance of intrinsic decorative plumage knownamong birds. The love of brilliant decoration is equallykeen in both groups, and is gratified in the one case bythe use of extrinsic objects, in the other by the growthof intrinsic plumage. It appears that that strangelyanthropoid bird—the penguin—or rather one species ofpenguin, familiar to Captain Scott and his companionsin the Antarctic, has a similar habit of using an extraneousobject as a gift or, shall we say, an excuse for anintroduction when courting. The male penguin is shownin Mr. Poynting's wonderful cinema films of the Antarctic,picking up a well-shaped stone of some size and advancingwith it in his beak to the lady penguin whom hehas selected for his addresses. He places the stone ather feet, and retires a pace or two watching her. It is asthough he said, "I am ready to build for you a first-classnest; best stones only used, of which this is a sample."If he is fortunate she looks at the stone and then at him,and without a word waddles to his side. Without moreado she accepts his proposal, and the work of constructingthe stone-built nest is rapidly pushed on.

THE "displays" made by male birds and by someother animals which lead to the "fascination" ofthe females, and apparently to a condition similar tothat which is called "hypnotic" in man, are very remarkable.One is tempted to say that these "displays" aremade "for the purpose" of fascinating the female. Butthough that would be correct in describing similar proceedingson the part of a human "gallant," it is notstrictly so in the case of animals, any more than it istrue that a bird grows its fine plumage "for the purpose"of attracting the female. The male bird finds itselfprovided with fine feathers, and has probably a briefconscious pleasure in the fact, just as it has in singing,but it has, of course, no control over the growth ofits feathers, nor conscious purpose in their production.Similarly, it has no knowledge or consciousness of apurpose in the antics of "display," nor in singing itsmelodious song, though certainly it is gratified, and haspleasurable sensations in the instinctive performanceswhich it finds itself going through. The great Frenchentomologist, Fabre, who has more minutely andthoroughly studied the wonderful proceedings of insectsin regard to these matters and others, such as nestbuilding, care and provision for young, deliberately says,"Ils ne savent rien de rien"—they know nothing about[Pg 198]anything! And that is true with only small exceptionabout even the highest animals until we come to man.Some of the higher animals have a brief and fleeting"consciousness" of what they are doing, and some ofthe hairy quadrupeds nearest to man have the power of"recollecting"; that is to say, have in a small degreeconscious memory, and actually do reason and make useof their memory of their own individual experience to avery small and limited degree.

It is only in man that the power of reasoning—theconscious use of memory, of deciding on this or thatcourse of action by a conscious appeal to the recordof the individual's experience inscribed in the substanceof the brain—becomes a regular and constant procedure.And in the lowest races of man—as, for instance, theAustralian "black fellows"—this power is much lessdeveloped than in higher races, owing to the feeblenessof their memory. Just as a little child or an old manrecognizes the fact that his memory is bad, so does theAustralian native confess to the white man that hecannot remember, and marvels at the memory of thewhite man, who, he says, can see both what is behindand what is to come.

"Displays" are often made by birds which have novery brilliant colours. The ruff—a bird of agreeablebut sombre plumage—spreads out a ruff of featherswhich grows round his neck in the breeding seasonand stands in a prominent position alone on the openground with his head facing downwards and his longbeak nearly touching the ground. These birds are tobe seen behaving in this way at the Zoological Gardensin London. When thus posed they have a comicalappearance of being absorbed in profound thought.[Pg 199]Suddenly, after posing for perhaps ten minutes or moreimmovably in this attitude, the ruff starts into life,running in a wide circle and spreading his wings, andthen as suddenly relapses into his pose, with downcasteyes and beak touching the ground. This, it appears,is all a challenge to any other ruff who ventures nearhim, and often results in a fight with another individualwho is offended by his "swagger" and attacks him. Italso is an invitation and attraction to the female or"reeve" who is on the look out for a mate.

The display of the bustard, though his feathers areonly light brown and white, is a very strange andarresting performance. In ordinary circumstances hisfeathers are nicely smoothed down, and he looks neatand fit. But at the breeding season he behaves likeMalvolio when he wore cross-garters to please his lady.He approaches two or three females who are quietlyfeeding, and throwing his head back and his chestforward, swelling his neck out with inspired air andreflecting his tail feathers inside out (so to speak) overhis back, he makes the most extraordinary havoc ofhis previously neat costume. The feathers are madeto stand up and reflected backwards in groups, andshow their underlying white surfaces round the head,on the chest, and on the wings and back, so that hesuggests the appearance of a portly old gentleman, infull evening dress, the worse for liquor, his high collarunbuttoned and flapping, his short "front" bulging andloose, whilst he maintains all the time a pompous anddignified pose strangely inconsistent with his disorderedcostume and hesitating gait. As he struts and posesthe lady bustards, though intensely interested in hisstrange behaviour, make no sign, and continue peckingfor food, as who should say with Beatrice, "I wonder[Pg 200]that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick: nobodymarks you." After enduring this snubbing on severaloccasions and doggedly continuing to display his antics,the persistent bustard reaps his reward. One amongthe dissembling females can no longer keep up thepretence of indifference, and suddenly runs off, invitinghim to follow her! The same general scheme of playis seen in the case of the peacock, who spreads hismagnificent "train" around his head and neck (not tobe confused with his tail, as it often is); in the case ofthe turkey, bubblyjock, or gobble-cock, who struts andshows off his coloured wattles and fine feathers; inthat of the domestic fowl, who raises his head and neck,crows, and has a pretty trick of scraping the groundwith his wing. Many other birds perform special anticssuited to the display of their special plumage. Amongthe most varied and remarkable are those of the Birdsof Paradise, which drop through the air, hang upsidedown on tree twigs, and pose themselves variously(often warbling the while seductive notes) accordingto the particular beauties which distinguish each species.Cranes and some other birds dance in groups at themating season—really dance, making steps and jumpswith the legs and movements of the wings—in rhythm.

Reptiles do only a little in the way of display. Themale newt gets a crest in the spring like the wantonlapwing of Tennyson, and a splendid orange-red colouron the belly. Male fishes often develop "display"colours at the breeding season, and it is a mistake tosuppose that their eyes and brains are not sensitiveto colour. We have a familiar instance in the maleof our common little stickleback, who, in early summer,builds, in his native pond, his nest of fragments ofweed cemented together, with a wide entrance and a[Pg 201]back door. He then becomes brilliant blood-red onthe belly (he was white before) and dark green on theback, and swims about near the nest, and has anoccasional fight with a competitive neighbour, whilsthustling and shepherding any female stickleback he maymeet so as to make her enter it. She enters it alone, andlays an egg, or, perhaps, two or three, and then goes outby the back-door! The male, well pleased, at once goesinto the nest, fertilizes the eggs, and swims out again toget another contribution to his future family. Afterseveral females have thus deposited eggs in his nest,and he has fertilized them, he keeps guard for manydays whilst the young are developing. Even whenthey are hatched he is in constant attendance on them,for there is danger of their being eaten—not by othermales, who are as busy as he is, but by the emancipatedfemales, who neither build the nest nor care for theyoung, but just lay an egg here and an egg there wheninvited, and pursue a selfish life of amusement andvoracious feeding.

It is still doubtful how far male insects of thetrue six-legged group appeal to the females by colour-display,even when they are brightly coloured, or inother ways than by perfumes (which they do verygenerally), but among the spiders there are some kinds(not common ones) in which the males have on thefront of the body one or two extraordinarily brilliantspots of colour (red, apple-green, or yellow). Themale moves round the female in courtship, and poseshimself in most curious attitudes, so as to exhibit thebrilliant colour to her; forcing it, as it were, on herattention. In other species of spiders the male dancesand circles round the female, making curious and definiteantics. Some spiders also have rasp-like organs, with[Pg 202]which they can make a kind of singing note, which appearsto fascinate the other sex. The vibration of a tuning-forkwill cause some spiders to dance! In most spidersthe female is much larger than the male—in somecases, ten times as large—and the approach of themale to the female is a dangerous business for him,for usually after his embrace she turns on him, killshim, and eats him. This is almost a unique caseamongst animals (though ancient legends tell of princessesof similar ferocity), and curiously enough is not invariableamong all species of spider. In some the males andfemales are quite friendly. The ogre-like habit offemale spiders is not so injurious a thing as it mayappear. For the most nourishing food is thus affordedto the female who has to ripen her eggs, and take careof her young, whilst, if the male escapes, it appears thathe is short-lived and very soon dies. This cannibaltendency is very strongly developed also in the alliedgroup, the scorpions. Two hundred scorpions were leftin a cage in the South of France, whilst the naturalist(Maupertuis) who had placed them there was obligedto go to Paris. On his return he found one large,very plump and active scorpion in the box, surroundedby legs and hard bits of the bodies of the rest. Thesurvivor was in the position of Gilbert's ancient mariner,who said that he was "the cook and the mate, andthe captain's boy and the crew of theNancy Bell."Scorpions do not perform any courtship display. Themales and females are of equal size, and dance together,holding one another by their large claws, before matingand retiring into a burrow.

Cuttle-fishes, squids, and the octopus—called Cephalopods—wereconsidered by Aristotle to be the spiders ofthe sea. It is curious how they not only have a super[Pg 203]ficialresemblance of form to spiders, but in some habitsare like them, though the Cephalopods are molluscsallied to snails and mussels, and are quite unlike spidersin deeper structure and remote from the whole group ofhard-skinned, jointed-legged animals such as crustaceans,spiders, and insects. I once had the chance to see amale octopus "displaying" to a female in one of thetanks of the aquarium at Naples. There were a maleand a female already living there when we introducedfrom another tank a second male, which had justdestroyed and fed upon a large lobster, who had himself,with no evil purpose, crushed the head of aMediterranean turtle foolishly placed by that animalbetween the open fingers of the lobster's big nippers.The new arrival promptly drove the earlier tenantoctopus out of the tank. He pursued his rival roundand round with great rapidity until the latter leaptfrom the surface of the water (by a violent contractionof the mantle) and escaped into the adjacent tank.Then the triumphant intruder approached the female—floodsof changing colour, reddish-brown, purple, andyellow, passing over the surface of his body—and commencedan extraordinary display with his eight longsucker-bearing arms. He made these wind into close-setflat spirals and again unwind and gracefully trail inthe water, when they immediately wound up again inspiral coils. The female watched this proceeding formore than an hour, and then they embraced. I couldnot follow any further details, but a few days after thisthe female piled up a number of stones, so as to makea nest in shape like a shallow basin. We enticed themale into a net and placed him in another tank, so thathe should not be able to molest the female or to devourher offspring, which he would do if he had the chance.Then the female laid her eggs—minute oval, transparent[Pg 204]bodies, each with a long stalk and all joined on to acommon branching stem: the whole resembled a head ofmillet seed. The female tended her eggs by continuallypumping a stream of water over them, and could not bedriven from them. She fought savagely and heroically intheir defence. But I succeeded in enticing her into a netby aid of a toothsome crab, and then took a few—only afew—of the cherished eggs, and replaced their motherin the tank, where she at once resumed the "incubation"of her eggs. For it is an "incubation," although one inwhich oxygenated water, and not warmth, is the accompanimentof the sitting of the "hen." I was able towatch the development of the young within the transparenteggs, which I kept in a stream of fresh sea-water,and I published a short account of what wasnovel in the growth of these embryos. It had not beenstudied previously, nor have I seen any later account ofthe development of octopus. The true cuttle-fish, withthe hard oblong shell sunk in the back, lays each eggin a dark leathery shell. They look like small grapes,and are left, thus protected, to their fate. They havebeen studied, both before I obtained octopus eggs andsince, in great detail. The "squid" embeds her eggs,many together, in bunches of long fingers of colourlessjelly. Only the octopus and the argonaut, amongCephalopods, are known to give maternal care andincubation to their eggs.

APART from the familiar instances of male colour-decorationafforded by birds, we find that evensome of the minute water-fleas inhabiting freshwaterlakes and the sea, and known as Crustacea Entomostraca,put on a courting dress at the breeding season;that is to say, the males become brilliantly colouredwith patches of red and blue. And among the highestmammals we find that the same colours are, in somecases, displayed by the males as a fascination to thefemales. This is the case with the males of some ofthe baboons, though not with those of the highest man-likeapes, who, like the primitive "savage" man, haveno decoration, no pretty seductive ways appealing toeither the eye or the ear, but rely on their strength andferocity to overawe and paralyze the female. In themale "mandrill" baboon the skin of the sides of the greatsnout is of a deep blue colour, whilst the nose and atract behind it is wax-like and bright red. Not onlythat, but the buttocks are brilliantly coloured, a centralred area passing at the sides through rich purple topale blue. The animal, which is often to be seen inmenageries, is evidently proud of this finely-colouredregion of his body, and turns it to a visitor and remainsquietly posed, so that it may be well seen and dulyadmired. The hind-quarters of other monkeys, both[Pg 206]male and female, show a brilliant red colouring duringthe mating season, and the skin and hair of the face isvariously coloured, so as to produce a decorative pattern(eyebrows, moustache, beard, nose, all strongly contrastedin colour) in the smaller monkeys, usually more strikinglyin the males than in the females. A brilliant emerald-greenpatch of colour is shown in the hinder part ofthe body of the male in one species sometimes to beseen at Regent's Park.

The making of sounds is a capacity possessed bymany animals, small and big. Often it seems to haveno particular significance, but, as in the case of the"humming" of bees and flies and the "droning" ofbeetles, is the necessary accompaniment of the vibrationof the wings. But many animals make sounds as a"call," either to other individuals of their species, irrespectiveof sex, or more definitely as signals and appeals tothe other sex, just as the luminosity which happens toaccompany certain necessary chemical activities in thebodies of the lower animals has become specialized andutilized in the glow-worm and other higher forms as asignal and appeal. The rubbing of rough surfacesagainst one another is developed into a "stridulatingorgan" which we find in crickets, locusts, scorpions,spiders, and even in marine crustacea, and it is oftenspecialized as a sexual appeal. The mere production ofsound by tapping against wood is used by the littlebeetle, the death-watch, as a call, and is responded toby his mate with similar tapping. Such "tapping" isdeveloped into a remarkable rhythmic vibrating soundby the birds called woodpeckers, and has its significancein courtship. But it is chiefly by the inspiration andexpiration of air over vibrating cords or membranescalled "vocal organs" that animals produce distinctive[Pg 207]and musical sounds. In most cases such animals havea more general and simple "cry," which is not necessarilya sexual appeal, but addressed to comrades generally,and also a more elaborate cry or song which is primarilyused by the male as an attraction in courtship, but hasin the case of many birds been inherited from originalmale singers by the females also. The "singing" ofbirds—apart from simpler cries and calls—is a sexualaddress, an act of courtship. It is a display of powerand capacity on the part of the male, and that such isits character is shown by the competition between malebirds in the endeavour to "out-sing" one another. Somebirds become extraordinarily excited in these competitions,which take the place of actual fighting, the victorwho silences his opponents being the winner of thefemale bird, who is at hand listening to the competition.Caged chaffinches are celebrated for their eagerness tocompete with one another in singing. They delivertheir little song alternately until one is exhausted andunable to take up his turn. He is vanquished. Soexcited do the birds become that it occasionally happensthat one of the competitors drops down dead. Thebeginning and directive causes of the particular song ofdifferent kinds of birds is not understood. But it iswell known that they have a great gift of imitation.Parrots, piping crows, ravens, and other such birds arefamiliar instances, whilst little birds such as bullfinchescan be trained to whistle the melodies which humanbeings have invented. Even the house-sparrow, which,though allied to singing finches, never sings at all whenin natural conditions, has been converted into a songsterby bringing it up in company with piping bullfinches.

Other animals which cannot sing like the birds yetuse their voices in courtship. The frogs and toads are[Pg 208]no mean performers in this way, whilst cats, deer, andother large animals are "singers," of a kind, when stirredby mate-hunger. The monkeys chatter and makevarious vocal sounds, but the gibbons and man-likeapes produce excessively loud and penetrating cries.These cries, though sometimes of fine note and repeatedrhythmically (as in the gibbons and chimpanzees), havenot the character of song. The beginnings of song inmankind are lost in the mist of ages. The Australianblack-fellows chant and dance with rhythmic precisionand a certain kind of melancholy cadence, but theynever attempt to fascinate the other sex by the use ofthe voice (nor, so far as is known, in any other way), and,indeed, there is a vast interval between their vocal performancesand the love-songs of modern civilized races.Man has not inherited singing from his animal ancestry,but has re-invented it for himself. His real knowledgeand command of "music" is actually a novelty whichhas sprung into existence within the last few hundredyears.

There is no doubt that animals of the same speciesare attracted to one another by smell, and that distinctspecies have distinct smells. Further, there is no doubtthat in many cases the special smell of either sexattracts the other. But modern man has so nearly lostthe sense of smell—why it is difficult to say, exceptingthat it is because it was not of life-saving value to him—thatit is very difficult for us to estimate properly thesignificance of perfumes and odours. We know that thedog has what to us seems a marvellous power of trackingand recognizing by smell, and that other animals appearto be similarly endowed, though most usually we cannotperceive the smell at all which they recognize and follow.It appears that nearly all the hairy quadrupeds have[Pg 209]distinctive odours, which they and their companions canreadily recognize, secreted by certain glands in the skinplaced here and there on the body, often on the legs andtoes. Some of these odours, like musk and civet, wecan perceive, though most have no effect on us. Itseems to be an evidence of the absence of any need forman to produce "perfumes" by the action of his ownstructure that he has a feeble sense of smell and has solittle perception of any perfumes or odours peculiar tohimself that he has when civilized always made use ofodorous substances (perfumes and scents) extracted fromother animals and from plants for the purpose, beforethe days of cleanliness, of masking the unpleasant odoursof putrescence pervading his body and clothing. Later,when dirt became less common, he made use of perfumesfor the purpose of giving an agreeable whiff to theolfactory organs of his associates.

In insects, for instance in moths and butterflies, andno doubt in most if not all others, the sense of smell isastonishingly keen, and serves as the great guide andattraction in courtship and the appeasement of mate-hunger.A single female emperor moth was placed ina box covered with fine net in a room with an openwindow in a country house. In three hours a dozenmales of this species had entered the room, but no othermoths. In twenty-four hours there were over a hundred,all fluttering around the net-covered box in which wasthe female. In this and other similar experiments itwas found that the odour of the female moth, thoughimperceptible to man, clung to the box after she wasremoved, and that, for some days following, the emptybox was nearly as powerful an attraction to the malesas when it contained the female. The antennæ whichcarry the olfactory sense-organs are far larger in the[Pg 210]males than in the females, as is also the case in manyother lower animals where smell is a guide to mating.A single female of the vapourer moth, which is commonin the London squares and parks, has been found toattract when placed in a box in an open window inGower Street a number of males from the neighbouringplantations; and such is the penetrating and powerfulcharacter of these odorous substances produced by femalemoths that in one species, in which the female is winglessand lives under water, the odour escapes through thewater and attracts the males in quantities to its surface.The females then arise from the depths, and, like mermaidsor the witch of the Rhine, draw the infatuatedmales beneath the water to love and death. In severalbutterflies it has been shown that the males producesweet perfumes on the surface of the wings, which canbe detected as such by man, and act as stimulants to themate-hunger of the female butterflies, which follow thescented male in numbers. The sense of smell is thusseen to be a much more powerful guide in insects thanmight be supposed, and it is of equally great importanceto them in other enterprises and activities of life besidesthose of courtship. It has also a leading importance inall the lower and lowermost animals, and is the ultimateguide (for smell and taste are not separable in suchsimple forms) of the motile spermatic filament in itsjourney to the egg cell.

I have in the course of these notes on "Courtship"more than once stated that though man shares incommon with all other animals the ultimate impulse to"courtship," namely, "mate-hunger," yet that it wouldbe a mistake to suppose that he has mechanically inheritedfrom animal ancestors (as they do) those methodsof attracting and endeavouring to fascinate the female,[Pg 211]such as the use of gay costume, dancing and posing,beautiful singing, sweet perfume, and gentle caresses,which, at various phases of his development, he haspractised. True, these methods are also practised by avariety of animals, but not by man's immediate ape-likeancestors. None of these means of courtship are inheritedinstincts or structures in man as they are in animals.All have been arrived at and devised by man afresh, asthe result of "taking thought." And in the latest advanceof civilization some of them have been to a large extenteither discarded or, curiously enough, handed over to thefemale sex. It is the woman now who endeavours tocaptivate the man by a display of brave colours, clothes,plumes, and jewellery, and by exquisite dancing andgesture. Not so long ago both sexes of man practisedsuch display, but in earliest times only the male, thewoman being allowed to sport a discarded rag or a brokenold necklace if she were very satisfactory and submissivein her general conduct!

I must endeavour very briefly to explain how thiscontrast of "instinct" with "thought, knowledge, reason,and will" must (as it seems to me) be regarded. Thereare three great steps in the gradual evolution of themind. The first is the slow formation (by variation andsurvival of the fittest) of transmissible, and thereforeinherited, mechanisms of the mind, which are of variousdegrees of complexity, and characterize different speciesand kinds of animals. These mechanisms act automaticallylike those of a "penny-in-the-slot machine,"and are just as regularly present, and as muchalike in all individuals of a species, as are the otherinherited structures, such as bones, flesh, viscera, theskin and its coloured clothing of decorative feathersor hair.

Later, and added to these inherited mechanisms—ofteninterfering with them and putting an end tothem—are the mechanisms of the second step. Theseare mechanisms arising from individual experience;they depend on memory—the inscription on "the tabletsof the mind," of the experience that this follows that.They control movement and action, usurping the privilegeof the previously omnipotent inherited mechanismsor instincts. This second step in the development ofmind requires an excessive quantity of brain-cells. Itonly makes its appearance at all in animals with largebrains, and reaches a far greater development in maneven than in the apes, his brain being from twice tothree times the size of that of the largest living ape.This use of memory and individual experience—insteadof an inherited mechanism, which is the same in everymember of the species—is obviously a great advantagein the struggle for existence. There are traces of it insome of the cuttlefish and insects, but even in the fishesand reptiles among living vertebrates it is of smallaccount, and the small brain carries on its work by good,sound, inherited mechanisms or instincts, but learnsnothing, comprehends nothing! In the birds we seea little—a very little—more capacity for "learning byindividual experience," and it is only in the larger andlater mammals that educability, or the power of learningby individual experience, becomes of serious importance.All the larger living mammals—horse, cattle, sheep,rhinoceros, tapir—have acquired an enormous increase inthe size of their brains—as much as six or eight timesthe volume of that of their extinct ancestors whose bonesand brain cavities we find fossilized in the Tertiarystrata. Man has by far the biggest brain of all theseanimals, and has a unique degree of educability, togetherwith the fewest instincts or in-born hereditary mechan[Pg 213]ismsamong animals. He has practically to learn byindividual experience—and therefore in the form bestsuited to his individual requirements—a host of mostimportant actions and behaviours which even monkeys aswell as dogs and sheep and horses never have to "learn,"but proceed to put in practice as soon as they are born,or, at any rate, without any preliminary process of experimentand effort. Man is the one highly "educable"animal. In consequence of his large brain and itsroomy memory he can be, and is—even when a"savage"—educated. Monkeys and dogs have onlysmall "educability" as compared with man, thoughmore than have reptiles or fishes. Man's mind is,therefore, in this essential feature different from thatof animals. The modern mammals with brains as muchas eight times the bulk of their early Tertiary ancestorshave, it is true, acquired "educability" and the power ofstoringindividual experience as "memory," but theirmemory is far less extensive than that of man, andthough its guidance is of great value to them it actsentirely, or nearly so, without consciousness. No doubtman's brain includes some hereditary mechanisms, but inthe main it distinctively consists of nerve-mechanisms,formed by his own individual education, acting on receptiveand specially educable brain matter. And thebrain mechanism formed by education is of greater life-savingvalue than is that of the inherited instincts whichmeet general emergencies, but not those new and specialto the individual.

The third step in the development of mind is thearrival (for one can call it by no other term) of thatcondition which we call "consciousness"—the power ofsaying to oneself "I am I," and of looking on as a detachedexistence not only at other existences but at one's own[Pg 214]mental processes, feelings, and movements. With it comesthought, knowledge, reason, and will. We may speakof consciousness as invading or spreading gradually overthe territory of mind. All the three steps of the growthof mind which I have distinguished can be seen followingone on the other in the growth of a human child frominfancy to adolescence. The second step—the developmentof individual mechanisms due to memory—is notin most animals, and not entirely in man, pervaded by or"within the area of" consciousness. Memory is at first"unconscious memory," and there still remains in man acapacity for forming "memory" which never (or in somematters only exceptionally) becomes illuminated byconsciousness. Apparently the inherited mechanismswhich we call "instincts" are never within the reach ofconsciousness, though, of course, the actions determinedby them are. It is a difficult matter to decide how farthe memory of apes, dogs, and such animals nearest toman is conscious memory. Probably very little. Butit is only when memory, as well as the impression of themoment, is pervaded by consciousness that reflection,and reason and action dependent on reason, are possible.[6]

Hence it is that man in all the procedure of courtshipstands apart from animals. Even the Australian hasnot only an educable brain, but a more or less consciousmemory. He seems to be permanently, in this respect,in the condition of an ordinary European child of aboutfive years old. Gradually in the course of the development,both of increased educability and of more and moreefficient and serviceable education, man has first abandonedby slow degrees his violent ancestral methods ofprocuring a mate, and has, as the result of observation,[Pg 215]reflection, and conscious reasoning, taken to courtship bypersuasion and fascination, similar to that of the birdsand other remote creatures, retaining, however, for a longperiod his habit of fighting with other males to establishhis claim to the woman of his choice. And at last, inhis later development in civilized lands, he has abandonedthe more obvious arts of courtship and has taken todecorating his womankind instead of himself. He hasmade woman take over the habit of courtship by thefascination of colour and pose whilst he looks on insombre clothing with thoughtful reserve. He does notany longer even rely on his strength or skill in fightingin order to scatter his rivals, but makes appeal by wordto the sympathy of the desired mate and trusts to thefascination which the power, given either by superior intellectualquality or by accumulated wealth, have for her.

IN early September, golf links and other such grasslandsswarm with a large gnat-like fly of reddish-brownbody, feeble flight, and long, straggling legs.These flies are generally called "Daddy-Long-Legs," or,by the more learned, "Crane-flies." I find that theyare sometimes confused with another fly of about thesame size with bright reddish-brown body, which is verymuch less abundant and occasionally flutters around thelamps and candles in a country house when the windowsare open in the evening. This second kind of fly has aformidable black-coloured sting, which it shoots out fromthe end of its tail when handled; it has also two pairsof wings, and is an Ichneumon-fly, one of the Hymenoptera,the order of insects to which bees, wasps, ants, andgall-flies belong. Our daddy-long-legs has no sting,though the female has a sharply pointed tail. It hasonly one pair of wings, and belongs to the order Diptera,or tway-wing flies, in which our house-fly and bluebottle,horse-flies, tsetse-flies, gnats, and midges of vast numberand variety are classified. They none of them have tail"stings," though the tail may be elongated and pointed.

Though the two-winged flies or Diptera have onlytwo wings well grown and of full size, the second orhinder pair of wings which other insects possess of full[Pg 217]size, are present in them in a very much dwindled condition.Since most of our common flies are very small it isdifficult to see this dwindled pair of wings, which lie closebehind the first or large pair, and are called the "balancers,"or "halteres." The daddy-long-legs (Fig. 22, A)[Pg 218]is big as flies go, and with a pocket lens, or even withoutone, you can readily see the dwindled second pairof wings standing out clearly from the body behind theattachment of the first pair. These "balancers" are ofthe shape of a tennis racket, or a ball-headed club.They serve no longer as organs of flight, but as auditoryorgans. A minute parasitic insect (Stylops) which livesin bees has only one pair of wings, but in this case it isthe hinder pair which are developed, the front pair beingshrunk to rudimentary lappets.

The daddy-long-legs, or common crane-fly, is a littleless than an inch long and a little more than an inchacross the spread wings. Its power of flight is not welldeveloped, and its six long legs are moved so slowly andawkwardly that one would say that its powers of walkingand running are also feeble. Their strange movementshave led some unknown poet to imagine the "daddy"saying:

In reality these queerly-moving long legs serve theinsect effectively in making its way among the closely-setblades of grass about which it crawls. The legseasily come off, and the loss of one does not appear tobe a serious matter. Probably the easy detachment ofa leg enables the fly to escape if one of them gets caughtand nipped in overlapping blades of grass—though sucha throwing away of a limb seems a rather recklessproceeding, especially since the insect has no power of"regeneration" as it is called, that is, of growing a newleg to replace the lost one. There are several well-knowninstances of animals which have the power ofbreaking off a leg or the tail if seized by an enemy or[Pg 219]otherwise gripped. The smaller lizards and the leglesslizard, called the "slow-worm," have this power in regardto the tail, but they proceed to grow a new tail afterthey have escaped. Some marine worms have a similarfaculty, and some star-fishes (hence called "brittle-stars")have a most annoying habit of throwing off their "arms"when caught. The central disk of these star-fish, withall its arms shed, can "regenerate" the lost parts.Crabs, too, of various kinds have the habit, when caughtby the leg, of breaking it off, and they may often befound with a completely-formed little leg, which has been"regenerated" or grown afresh, and will in due timeattain full size. The beautiful hairy skin of the tail ofthe little dormouse also will come off when the animal iscaught by it, leaving the bony blood-stained skeleton ofthe tail exposed to dry and wither up. There is nore-growth in this case. I was horrified when I was aboy to see six dormice reduced to this condition in thebird and beast shop on the staircase of the old Pantheonbazaar. They had escaped from their cage whilst I waslooking on, and the shopman endeavoured to catch them,with this distressing result.

So we find that the loss of its legs by the"daddy" is a means of safety to it, and is a similarprovision to that seen in some other animals. It seemsimprobable that the "old father long-legs" who "wouldnot say his prayers" (according to an ancient nurseryrhyme), is a myth referring to a daddy-long-legs of theinsect kind, since the recommendation to "take him byhis left leg and throw him downstairs" would have beenfutile; his left leg would have come off as soon as seized,and have greatly embarrassed the individual intendingto throw him downstairs! Another kind of insect-likeanimal, which occurs commonly in cobwebby outhouses,[Pg 220]and has a globular body and eight very long legs—easilybroken off—is also commonly called a "daddy-long-legs."It has no wings, and is allied to the spiders,though it is not a true spider—having a minute pair ofnippers near its mouth, instead of the pair of stabbingclaws which spiders have. It is frequently called a"harvester," a name loosely applied to other smallcreatures. It is known to zoologists as Opilio.

Our crane-flies, or daddy-long-legs, when they swarmabout the grass are intent on two objects. They do notrequire food; they have had enough when they weregrubs concealed in the soil. They are now busy, first,in pairing, so that the females' eggs may be fertilized;and, secondly, the females are about to choose a likelypiece of ground in which to bore with their pointed tailsand lay their eggs. They prefer rather damp spots,shaded from the fierce drying heat of the sun, for thispurpose. When laying her eggs, the female balancesherself with her legs in an upright position, and, pushingthe sharp tail into the earth, moves round by the aid ofher legs, to the right and to the left, so as to bore aquarter of an inch or so into the loose soil. Then shelays two or three eggs, and, coming down from herupright pose, moves on through the blades of grass for3 or 4 inches, and again takes an upright attitude,and repeats the boring and egglaying. The eggs arevery small, black, shining grains, of which as many as300 are found in the body of one ripe female. Themale crane-fly has a broad, somewhat expanded end toits body, by which it is easily distinguished from thefemale.

From the eggs minute maggots or grubs hatch andfeed upon animal and vegetable refuse in the soil, but as[Pg 221]they increase in size they burrow an inch or so into theground among the grass roots. There are two broods,one in spring and a more abundant one in August andSeptember. The grubs have no legs. Insect grubs areoften legless, as, for instance, the maggots or "gentles"of bluebottle-flies. Or they are provided with shortlegs, as, for instance, are the "caterpillars" or grubs ofmoths and butterflies. The grubs of the crane-fly(Fig. 22, B) show eleven rings or segments to the body,and have a tough grey or brownish skin, which is so firmas to give them the name of "leather-jackets." Theyhave a head provided with a pair of short, strongmandibles or jaws, and a very short pair of feelers(antennæ). These grubs grow to be an inch and a halflong, and are two-thirds the thickness of a commonquill pen. They gnaw with their hard jaws the youngshoots and roots of grass, and do an enormous amountof damage to grassland. They are rarely seen exceptwhen a sod is lifted, but in late spring and summer,when the grub changes to a motionless pupa or chrysalis,they may be seen protruding for about a third of theirlength from the surface amidst the grass tufts. Birds eatthem and rooks dig with their beaks into the sod in orderto pull them out, leaving a number of small pits (on thegolf links) where they have been at work. The propername of these injurious grubs is "leather-jackets."They are often confused with another grass-and-wheatpest, the "wire-worm," and are in consequence sometimescalled "false wire-worms." The "wire-worm" is thegrub of a beetle (Fig. 22, C and D), and is very differentin appearance and history from the "leather-jacket,"though both of them do great damage to grass and tograin crops.

The common crane-fly, or daddy-long-legs, is called[Pg 222]Tipula oleracea by entomologists, and is abundant inEurope as well as in these islands. There are other"species" of the genus Tipula common in England,namely, a smaller kind with spotted wings, Tipulamaculosa, or the spotted crane-fly, and a large kindcalled Tipula paludosa, which frequents marsh land.There are many species of Tipula in other parts ofthe world, and there are closely allied kinds which areranked in distinct genera, differing a little in certainfeatures from the genus Tipula. These all form, takentogether, the family Tipulidæ. They, together withthe various kinds of gnats or "mosquitoes," the midgesand fungus-flies, form one of two divisions into whichthe two-winged insects or Diptera are divided, namely,those with long, thread-like feelers or antennæ (Nemocera—threadhorned), the other division being thosewith quite short antennæ (Brachycera—short horned).The latter group comprises the flies with thick,heavy bodies, such as the common house-fly, thebluebottle, the horse-flies, bott-flies, and tsetse-flies.The long-horned group have usually long, narrow bodiesand long, narrow wings, which do not at once lie flat onthe back when the fly alights (as do those of the short-hornedgroup, as, for instance, those of the commonhouse-fly). The females of the common gnat (Culexpipiens) and numerous allied species are bloodsuckers.The various midges are mostly harmless, whilst othershave females which suck blood. The crane-flies do notbite. The real feeding of all these gnat-like flies is donewhen they are in the grub phase of their life, but thefemales of some gnats and midges appear to have theneed of extra nourishment when in the fully-formed free-flyingstate, in order to ripen their large bulk of eggs.Hence, in some cases, they (but not the males) suck thejuices of plants and the blood of animals.

The larval or grub phase of life is passed by many ofthese flies in the earth amidst putrefying vegetable andanimal refuse on which they feed, as in the instance ofthe daddy-long-legs; but here and there we find specieswhich penetrate into the soft parts of plants and animals.A whole group of many species burrow into mushroomsand other fungi when they are grubs; others, again, livein water when they are grubs or "larvæ," and have avery active aquatic life, rising to the surface to breatheair and searching for food in the water with their feelersand eyes, and seizing it with their powerful jaws. Themother fly in these cases lays her eggs in a group on thesurface of the water or embedded in a jelly which shesecretes and attaches to the leaves of water plants.Some of the short-horned flies (bott-flies and others) laytheir eggs in the living flesh of warm-blooded animals,including man, and the maggots hatch there and feed onthe juices of the "flyblown" animal. Cases are not rareof children being thus infested.

The black flies which fly in swarms "high" or "low"in the country lanes on summer evenings are not truebiting gnats, but a large kind of midges known asChironomus or Harlequin flies. Their eggs are laidin the water of ponds, and the larvæ on hatching burythemselves in the rich black mud and feed there. Thelarvæ are of a splendid blood-red colour, and are oftencalled "blood-worms." They owe their colour to thepresence in their blood of the same red oxygen-seizingcrystallizable substance, hæmoglobin, which gives itsred colour to the blood of man and other vertebrates.Its presence is remarkable, because in all other insectsthe blood is colourless or of pale blue or green tint.It seems that this hæmoglobin renders service to thelarvæ of the big midges as it does to some other[Pg 224]creatures which live in impure water, where free oxygenis very small in quantity, namely, it enables them toabsorb and hold by loose chemical combination thesmall quantity of oxygen available. The minute midgescalled "Hessian fly" and "Cecidomyia"—injurious to cerealcrops—should be mentioned here as among the allies ofcrane-flies, as also the blood-sucking midges, Ceratopogon,and the minute blood-sucking sand-flies or Buffalo-flies,called "Simulium." Species of Ceratopogon, so minute asto be barely visible, cause terrible annoyance by their bitesto the salmon-fisher in Scotland, where they often swarmin countless numbers. The Buffalo-flies attack man, butin some districts of North America alight in thousandson cattle, and cause death in a few hours. A harmlesslong-horned fly is "the plumed fly," Corethra, the largeaquatic larva of which is glass-like and quite transparent,and offers splendid facilities for microscopicresearch. I used to take it every year in a pond nearHampstead Heath.

The leather-jackets, or grubs of the common crane-fly(Fig. 22, B), sometimes destroy hundreds of acres—evenwhole districts—of grassland in England andFrance by gnawing the young subterranean roots andshoots of the grass. They also destroy young wheatcrops. The leather-jacket is regarded by agriculturistsas an intractable pest, since it gets too deep into theturf to be destroyed by chemical poisons. Its thickskin also makes it very resistant to such treatment.When immersed in brine for twenty-four hours thegrubs are not killed; prolonged immersion in wateris equally ineffective; they may be frozen until theyare brittle, and will yet recover; and when kept threeweeks without food, still remain alive. Birds are theirnatural enemies, and rooks not only dig after the grubs,[Pg 225]but swallow the flies at the rate of four a minute!Ploughing up the land in which the grubs abound isrecommended as a means of destroying them, and alsothe application of gas-lime to the ground. Rolling theturf and pressing it down also kills the grubs, but thebest chance of diminishing their ravages is found indraining wet land and in feeding up the young grassplants with "fertilizers," so that they may grow rapidlyand resist the injurious effect of the leather-jackets'nibbling.

Before leaving this subject it will be found interestingto contrast the "leather-jacket" with the true "wire-worms,"which are the grubs of a remarkable kind ofbeetle (there are half a dozen British species) called theclick-beetle (Fig. 22, C). They belong to a great familyof beetles (Coleoptera), known as the Elaterids or Elaters,of which 7000 species are known, sixty being British.Some of the most brilliant light-giving or phosphorescentinsects (not, however, the common glow-worms) belonghere. The click-beetles are so called because when oneis laid on its back it regains its proper pose, with thelegs beneath it, by a spring or "skip," accompanied by asharp click. The grubs of the click-beetles, known as"wire-worms" (the name is also applied to centipedes),are more threadlike, that is to say narrower, than theleather-jackets. They are not legless "maggots," buthave three pairs of small legs (Fig. 22, D). They destroycorn and grass, and do not change into the adult conditionin a few months, as do the leather-jackets, butremain for three, and in some cases five, years in theground feeding on the roots of the corn and grass plants,doing much destruction before they finally change intobeetles.

IN order to understand and interpret correctly theoperation of natural selection in producing newspecies and maintaining them, by "the preservationof favoured races in the struggle for life" (to useDarwin's words), we must take a wide and, at thesame time, a minutely accurate survey of the livingworld. We must seek out the evidences of this operationand use the imagination in forming conceptions asto the varied steps of the process and the results whichare likely to ensue from it at different stages and indifferent conditions. We cannot interpret the existingstructures and behaviour of living things by the use ofa simple formula, such as that set up by some writerswho have not properly studied Mr. Darwin's works, anddeclare that, according to him, all structures and behaviourswhich we observe in living things are perfectand the finished result of survival of the ideally fittestvariations.

Plants and animals are so complex (as no one hasshown more clearly than Darwin), not only in theirstructure but in the chemical and physical action andinteraction of their living parts, that in the course ofthe ages during which the present species have been,step by step, fashioned in the endless vicissitudes of a[Pg 227]changing world, many of them have retained structuresor chemical constitutions which once were useful butnow are useless, or even positively injurious. Eveninjurious structures or behaviours may be retained andinherited by a species of plant or animal, if, on thewhole, the other accompanying modifications of structureare valuable—that is, of "life-saving" value, so that,"on the whole," the race is favoured by selection in thestruggle for existence.

In species which have but lately acquired dominanceor are brought by their success into novel conditions, wemay, and do, find old structures and behaviours still persistingwhich are injurious, not yet, as it were, "cleanedup" and got rid of as they would be in the course offurther long periods of selection. Such species becomeestablished, and may even acquire a definite stability,because the injurious structures or behaviours which theyhave retained are of little or no account as comparedwith the other advantageous characters which the specieshave developed. The term "disharmonies" is applied tosuch injurious characters, consisting in a certain want ofharmony (in minor respects) between the structure of anorganism and the conditions in which, nevertheless, itthrives.

Such species, imperfect because of their "disharmonies,"are an illustration of the fact that Natureherself, in matters relating to living things, is not averseto compromise. Nature sets the example of toleration.Toleration may be defended on the ground that it isthe biological method. Nature, though stern and inexorableas to essentials, yet accepts the faults anddefects of some of her children because of the virtuesand excellences which accompany them. The most[Pg 228]highly endowed and successful forms on account of theirdominance and power of spreading into new conditions,are even more likely than less highly developed kindsto retain concealed defects—disharmonies which do notlead to the destruction of the species, but occasionallycause strange embarrassment to it until they are, possiblyin the long process of ages, got rid of by the slow operationof selection and survival of those individuals inwhich the injurious character varies in the direction ofdiminution and ultimate disappearance.

In man (owing, apparently, to the rapid rate at whichhe has been carried along towards dominance over thewhole face of the globe by the development of his intelligence)the bodily structure has failed to keep pacewith and to become perfected, "trimmed up," and completelyadapted to, the newly-acquired habits which hisincreasing intelligence has forced on him. His "wisdomteeth" are "disharmonies." They are now useless anddwindled, weak spots open to the attacks of disease—sincethey are no longer needed for grinding coarsevegetable food, and are consequently no longer kept (bythe speedy death of those individuals in whom they aresmall) at the full original size and efficiency seen in theapes. His large intestine is a "disharmony" not yetgot rid of by natural selection, although no longer useful,but, on the contrary, the seat of poisonous putrefactionand absorption of such poisons. His tail—a few smallvertebræ beneath the skin—is absolutely useless, andoccasionally the seat of dangerous injury or disease.Tails very generally are liable to become useless in thedescendants of animals in which they were invaluable as"fly-brushes" (cattle, horses, etc.), as prehensible organs(American monkeys), as concealing cloaks (SouthAmerican ant-eater), as aids to swimming or flying, or[Pg 229]as ornamental glories (the big-cats and others). Thestumpy tail of the lynx, of some monkeys, and somelizards and fishes tells of a history in which the full-sizedtail became a "disharmony"—a positive nuisance—andhas been reduced, even if not abolished, bynatural selection of short-tailed or tail-less varieties.

We have to be careful in asserting that any structureor behaviour in an organism is certainly a "disharmony,"for it is very difficult to be quite sure as to the completedetails of the life of a wild creature, and so to be ableto form a conclusion rather than to suggest a possibility—asto the part played by an apparently injuriousstructure or habit in the economy of that creature.

One of the most striking instances of a habit orbehaviour which persists and dominates the life of awild animal to its own injury and destruction is thatshown by many moths and other insects, which areattracted at night by a flame (a lamp or an open fire),and fly into it even when burnt by it, again and againuntil they are killed. A burnt child dreads the fire;but a burnt moth or a singed ichneumon fly seems toenjoy being burnt, and becomes more and more excitedby its dashes into the flame until it finally drops withshrivelled wings to the ground. My brother told me someyears ago of the verandah of his house in Java in whichan open lamp was lit every night. Regularly two setsof animals, driven and guided by the action of the lighton their nervous mechanism, arrived on the scene.Swarms of moths and flies dashed in and out of theflame and fell, maimed by the heat, to the ground.There a strange group had already assembled. Gigantictoads and wall lizards crept from their holes in themasonry and woodwork, and awaited the shower of[Pg 230]injured insects, which they snapped up in eager rivalryas the infatuated flame-seekers dropped, hour after hour,to the floor. The instinct, the nervous mechanism, whichbrought the greedy reptiles to the spot was a "harmony,"a valuable guide to nutrition; whilst the flame-seeker'simpulse is assuredly a "disharmony"—a defect in adjustment—leadingto death.

It is interesting to inquire into the probable originof this fatal desire for close contact with a source oflight, a desire so strong as to be entirely unchecked bythe deadly heat accompanying the light. The May-fliesor Ephemerids are delicate little creatures, havingfour net-veined wings rarely more than three-quarters ofan inch across, with two or three long filaments hangingfrom the tail. Three hundred species are known fromall parts of the world, of which forty occur in theBritish Islands. They live as wingless, six-legged larvæin the water for a couple of years, feeding voraciously.Then one summer's evening they very rapidly escapefrom their larval skin and fly over the water in countlessswarms. But only for a few hours. The eggs of thefemales are fertilized, and they all, both males andfemales, drop dead or dying into the water, where theyare greedily devoured by fishes. The males are farmore numerous than the females; in some species asmany as 6000 males to one female have been counted.They are attracted to an extraordinary degree bylights (flames or electric lamps) set up for nocturnalillumination by civilized man, and in some districts theyare collected by fishermen in this way for use as foodfor fish, or were so in Holland in the eighteenth centuryaccording to Swammerdam's statement in his "BibliaNaturæ." Why do they thus seek artificial lights? Thereis some indication of an explanation in the fact that two[Pg 231]tropical species of May-flies are known which, like theglow-worms and fire-flies, produce light in their bodies.The May-flies, especially the males, have unusually largeand prominent eyes, as is the case with phosphorescent fishesand some other light-producing animals, and it appearsprobable that in the now rare instances of self-luminousMay-flies, the sexes are attracted to one another by thelight they produce, as is the case in other luminousinsects. It seems probable that the ancestral May-flies,of which many remarkable kinds have been discoveredin the fossilized condition in strata as far back in timeas those of the coal-measures, were all self-luminous,and acquired an overpowering instinct of seeking thelight given out by other individuals as a necessary steptowards sexual congress. In the course of ages othersenses (probably smell and touch) have been called into bring the fluttering insects into association. Thepower of producing light, being no longer needed, hasdisappeared from all but two rare species. But theurgent erotic instinct, the nervous mechanism, whichdrove the ancient May-flies towards the dancing lightsof other May-flies, has remained unaltered in all theliving species of the group. It is a "disharmony"which has not been of sufficient destructive importanceto be "cleared away" or suppressed by natural selection.In pre-human times, nocturnal fires and lights were toouncommon to cause much disaster to the May-flies.But now that mankind sets up everywhere his nocturnalflames and electric lamps, the previously unimportantuseless survival of an overpowering impulse to rush tonocturnal lights, reveals itself as a serious and death-dealing"disharmony." We must suppose, on this theory,that the other insects, such as moths and certain flies(by no means all insects), which also madly fly intonocturnal lights to their own destruction, have had[Pg 232]luminous ancestors and a similar early history. Thisis a legitimate supposition, since there are several verydistinct kinds of insects known at the present day whichare luminous at night, although no existing moths orbutterflies are known to be so.

A fact bearing on the explanation of the insects'perilous rush to flame is that birds when migrating areattracted by the great brilliant lamps of lighthouses, and,flying towards them, strike against their glass coverings,and are killed in considerable numbers. In that case,it may be that the flying towards the sun has becomeinstinctive, and that the bright light of the lighthouseacts upon a certain number of birds (perhaps the lesswell-adjusted individuals) so as to call forth the sameresponse in the direction of flight as that exercised bythe sun's globe. The truth or error of this suggestionshould be tested by an examination of the species ofbirds which kill themselves against lighthouse lanterns,and a knowledge of the season and direction of theirmigration.

As to luminous or phosphorescent (often called"luminescent") insects and other animals, there are agreat many curious and interesting facts known. Thereare luminescent bacteria (common on old meat bones anddead fish and in the sea generally), animalcules of variousspecies, jelly-fish, star-fish, worms, shell-fish, and crustaceansand true fishes. Inhabitants of the great depthsof the ocean of all kinds are usually luminescent. Thelight is caused by the oxidation of a peculiar fattysubstance. Without free oxygen there is no luminescence,and yet no heat is produced but merely light,as when a stick of damp phosphorus glows. The luminescenceof living things (often, but undesirably, called[Pg 233]phosphorescence) is a process differing greatly from thatcalled "phosphorescence" in minerals and crystals, suchas the emission of light by a lump of white loaf-sugarwhen crushed. You may see that kind of phosphorescenceby standing in front of a looking-glass in a darkroom and crushing a lump of loaf-sugar with the teeth,keeping the lips raised. It seems that in many organismsluminescence occurs without any consequent use or serviceto the organism. But in higher forms the power ofemitting light has been seized upon by natural selectionhaving become of value in attracting the individuals of aspecies to one another, or in attracting prey, or again inscaring enemies. The luminescent matter is concentratedin certain definite organs, and the access to it of oxygenand even its formation are controlled by the nervoussystem.

Among insects far better known than the rare luminescentMay-flies, are the glow-worms, a family of beetlesof which several species are known besides our ownfamiliar one, called Lampyris noctiluca. The fire-fliesof Southern Europe—Luciola italica—are small beetlesallied to the glow-worm, but both sexes fly and both areluminous, whilst in the common glow-worm the femaleis wingless, and the flying male, who is guided to thefemale by her light (which she can vary in intensity),gives but a feeble light. The swarms of Italian fire-fliesconsist of as many as a hundred males to one female,and the males are far more brilliant than the females.My fellow-student Moseley showed some in oxygen gasat the Royal Society's soirée many years ago. Thegas greatly increased their brilliancy. Many valuableexperiments in search of an explanation of the brillianceof the male Luciolæ and their excess in number could becarried out in North Italy. A peculiar grub-like female[Pg 234]glow-worm, three inches long, is found in South America,which produces a red light at each end of the body andnumerous points of green light on each side of it. It iscalled the "railway-beetle" in Paraguay.

Another family of beetles besides the Lampyrids, orglow-worms, is celebrated for the brilliant luminescenceof some of its species. These are the click-beetles, orElaterids(see Fig. 22, C). In South America there areupwards of a hundred species of this group, showingvarious degrees of luminosity. The "Cucujos" (Pyrophorusnoctilucus) of tropical America is one of the mostabundant and largest. It is as much as an inch and ahalf long, and has three "lamps," or luminous organs,one on each side of the body and one below the tail.The light given off is extremely beautiful, and the liveinsects are used by the women for ornament and by thecountry-folk as lamps on nocturnal excursions. Erroneouslythe term "fire-fly" is applied to these beetles; itshould be reserved for the little Italian Luciola, whichswarms, as countless thousands of dancing lights, in thenights of early summer over the marsh lands of NorthItaly. I have seen it at the end of June as far north asBonn, on the Rhine. In Australia a small true "fly"[7]—thatis to say, a two-winged fly or Dipteron like ourgnats, midges, and house-flies—is known, the maggotof which is luminous. And in New Zealand there isanother of which both the maggot and the perfect insectare luminous. The grub is called the New Zealandglow-worm.[8]

There are grounds for believing that the luminescenceof some of these insects serves them not to attract one[Pg 235]another, but to scare would-be predatory foes, such asbirds, bats, and reptiles. I have heard a story (whichI should like to have confirmed) that in some part oftropical Asia a certain kind of bird collects half a dozenor so of a species of glow-worm and places them at theentrance to its nest, so as to scare nocturnal animalswhich might attack its eggs or its young. It is a noteworthyfact that a point of light in the dark may act intwo opposite ways on animals which see it—either itattracts or it repels them. The physiologist calls thispositive and negative "photo-taxis" (light-guidance).And we have the similarly positive and negative influenceof chemical taste and smell, called "chemo-taxis,"and a similarly contrasted positive and negative "hygrotaxis,"or directive influence of moisture upon the movementsof animals and plants.

THE recent discoveries of the actual bones of very earlyraces of man raise again a general interest in theinquiry as to what are the actual differences of structurebetween men and apes, and what were probably thesteps by which, as the result of "survival of the fittest,"some early man-like apes became ape-like men. Thequestion also arises as to how long ago the transitionactually took place, and whether it was a very gradual or arapid one. We are to-day in possession of some importantfacts bearing upon this inquiry which were unknown toHuxley when he wrote his ever-memorable essay on"Man's Place in Nature," and triumphantly closed thecontroversy between himself and Sir Richard Owen.That was nearly fifty years ago.

Owen had maintained that the structural differencebetween man and the highest apes was so great thatit could only be rightly expressed by placing man in aseparate sub-class of the class "Mammalia"—the hairyvertebrate animals which have warm blood and suckletheir young. He pointed chiefly to the large size of thebrain in man, the existence on each side of its centralcavity of a little internal swelling called the "hippocampusminor," in the fanciful language of anatomists, and ofthe overlapping (within the skull) of the cerebellum by[Pg 237]the hinder part of the large brain-hemispheres, or cerebrum.He called the sub-class (in which he proposed to placeman alone) the "archencephala," or that of the highestdeveloped brains (Greek, "archi," chief, and "encephalon,"a brain), and proposed three other sub-classes, to containthe other orders of mammals (the Gyrencephala, Lissencephala,and Lyencephala), grouped according to threegrades of complexity of the brain. Huxley denied thejustification of this special grouping, by which manwas placed in a separate and highest sub-class apartfrom the apes and monkeys. He pointed out that everybone and every part recognized by the anatomist in thehigher apes is present in man (though other mammalspresent no such identity with him or them), and thatthere are only three little muscles belonging to the handand the foot which are present in man and not presentin the higher apes. He showed that the term "four-handed,"or "quadrumanous," as applied to the apes andmonkeys, is misleading, inasmuch as, though modified inthe proportions of the digits and the mobility of the greattoe, the foot of the apes has the same bones and musclesas the foot of man, and differs in structure from theirhand as the foot of man differs from his hand, whilstthe true hand of the apes agrees in structure with thehand of man.

Huxley (supported by many other anatomists) alsoshowed conclusively that the little lobe in the interior ofthe brain called the "hippocampus minor" is present inthe apes as in man, and that the posterior part of thegreater brain, or "cerebrum," does overlap the "cerebellum"in apes and many monkeys to an even greater extent thanit does in man. Owen's statements on this matterappear to have been due to his reliance on specimensof apes' brains removed from the skull and badly pre[Pg 238]servedin spirit—in which condition the parts in questionhad slipped out of their natural position. Owen's statementswere thus fully demonstrated to be contrary tothe fact, and Huxley declared, and conclusively showed,that so far from being entitled, on anatomical grounds,to a separate sub-class, man differs less from the higherapes—the four animals known as the gorilla, the chimpanzee,the orang-utan, and the gibbon—than doesany one of these differ from the lower monkeys. Huxleycame, therefore, to the conclusion that man could notlogically be dissociated from the apes and monkeys inthe way proposed by Owen, and that he should be placedwith them in one "order," to which the name "Primates"(pronounced as three syllables, and having no referenceto the clergy of the Anglican Church) is applied. Thisname was given by the great naturalist Linnæus, onehundred and fifty years ago, to the same group, inwhich, however, he erroneously included also the bats.

It was distinctly pointed out by Huxley, and hasbeen maintained by all those who have since occupiedthemselves with the matter, that there are certain veryobvious differences between man and the highest ape, orthat which comes nearest to him in the largest numberof important features—the gorilla. The chimpanzee ispractically, for the purpose of such a comparison, verynearly identical with the gorilla. Both are inhabitants oftropical Africa, whilst the next nearest, the orang andthe gibbons, are inhabitants of tropical Asia. The differencesseparating man from these near kindred animalsare differences of the size and proportion of structurespresent in them all, and are not due to the existence inman of actual parts or structures which are present inhim and not present in these apes. Man has developedfrom the ape, not by the production of any new organ[Pg 239]or part, but by the definite modification of parts alreadypresent in the apes. Even that obscure internal worm-likeoutgrowth of the intestine, called the "vermiformappendix," which has become so unhappily familiar tothe general public of late years on account of its frequentulceration and the consequent danger to life, is presentin full size in those higher apes which I have cited byname, and is present in them and man alone amongst allthe varied members of the class of mammals until wecome to the little Australian beaver-like "wombat," whichhas a vermiform appendix or narrowed tube-like extremityto the intestinal sac, called the cæcum, like that of manand the higher apes.

The changes of bodily form and proportions noticeablewhen we compare man with the gorilla or thechimpanzee are precisely those which fit in with thesupposition of a gradual change of form and habitsfavoured by natural selection in the struggle for existenceof ape-like creatures living originally in tropical forests,but gradually spreading beyond the special conditions oftropical life into other conditions and seeking to holdtheir own and to nourish themselves and their young.They have had to contend with one another for foodand safety and to defend themselves either by violenceor by craft against predatory animals and competitors ofall kinds.

There are certain notions still current dating fromRoman times as to differences between man and apes,which are simply erroneous and fanciful in origin. Thus,at one time the possession of a tail was supposed toseparate animals, including monkeys and apes, fromman. The rare abnormal cases in which the end of thevertebral column of man is free and projects as a tail,[Pg 240]were, a couple of hundred years ago, cited with wonderand head-shakings as a proof that there was, after all, areal similarity in man's structure to that of animals, andpictures of the "Homo caudatus," or tailed man, were tobe found in ancient books dealing with marvels andmysteries. As a matter of fact, three or four smallinsignificant vertebræ, almost immovable, are alwayspresent in man attached to the great bone called thesacrum, formed by the union of five vertebræ. Thesesmall vertebræ, to which the name "coccyx" is applied,are sunk beneath the skin and fat, at the end of thebackbone, and though they correspond to bones of thetail of other animals, they are, in normal mankind, thusconcealed from view. Precisely the same atrophy andconcealment of the bones of the tail is found in thegorilla, chimpanzee, orang, and gibbons. They are allof them, seen in the flesh, as tail-less as man is, and seenin skeleton have precisely the same number of minutetail bones forming a "coccyx." This is true not only ofthe higher apes mentioned, but of the Barbary ape—whichlives at Gibraltar—whilst others, such as themandrill, have very short tails. In fact, the tail is avery variable appendage in monkeys, and, as the Manxbreed shows, also in cats. It is mainly "decorative" inthe old-world monkeys, and is probably maintained bysexual selection. It is only in the new-world monkeysthat it has acquired obvious mechanical value. In themit is prehensile, and is used with great effect in swingingamong the trees from branch to branch, whilst thehands and feet are left free to grasp any new support.

Another feature which is commonly, but erroneously,supposed to constitute a great difference between manand apes is the hairiness of the latter. This is only adifference of degree, for the whole surface of the body of[Pg 241]man, excepting the eyelids, lips, palms of the hands, andsoles of the feet, is covered by hair, as it is, with thesame exceptions, in the apes. It is true that the hair isvery fine and small on most parts of the body of manand longer on the head. But there are races of men(the Ainos of Japan and the pygmies of the Upper Nile)in which the hair on the body is coarser and moreuniformly distributed than in others, and there areindividuals of exceptional "hairiness" in all races ofman. Moreover, before birth a coat of relatively coarseand abundant hair, called the "lanugo," is shed by thehuman fœtus. One variety of chimpanzee is practicallybald—that is to say, has no obvious hair on the cranialregion of the head. The celebrated "Sally," who livedso long in the Zoological Gardens in London, was one ofthis variety. When she died, I placed her brain, aremarkable one, in the museum at Oxford. Thus we seethat neither tail nor hairiness separates apes from men.

So, too, the notion that animals, and therefore apes,do not and cannot laugh is erroneous. Many animals,including chimpanzees, laugh. These men-like apes alsosing and dance and utter sounds (as do lower monkeys)which have definite meaning, though those sounds arevery few in number and variety, and are separated by along period of elaboration (both of skill in vocalizationand in the mental development necessary to givesignificance to the sounds produced), from what we call"human language"—even from the speech of the mostprimitive of existing men.

It is often assumed as a matter of prejudice—withthe intention of marking off the animal world to whichthe apes belong, from ourselves, the human race—thatthe apes show little intelligence, reasoning power, and[Pg 242]constructive aptitudes, which might serve as the beginningof man's arts and crafts, were man derived by a slowprocess of development from ape-like animals of a longpast geologic period. The fact is that there has beenvery little opportunity for studying the capacities of apesin regard to such matters, since when kept in cages theyhave not the opportunity of showing the skill andunderstanding which in their natural conditions wouldbe obvious. The monkeys show (and this has beenespecially observed in the chimpanzee), in a degreegreater than is seen in other animals, the mental qualitywhich we call "curiosity." And this is combined with apersistence and determination in observation and inexperiment with the purpose of satisfying that curiositywhich is rarely, if ever, exhibited by other animals toanything like the same extent.

The higher apes will use their fingers to turn thescrews which fasten down the lid of a box in order tosee what is inside. Lately the large orang in theZoological Gardens of London succeeded, after longefforts, in unwinding the wire fastenings of its cage andescaping into the open. It climbed into a tree, andimmediately constructed for itself a platform of brancheswhich it broke off from the tree. It then sat upon thisplatform, as is its habit when in its native forest. Manyof the larger monkeys have great skill in throwingstones, sending them with considerable force and goodaim. They select stones of size and weight appropriateto their purpose, and it would not be surprising shouldapes have learnt to select stones for other purposes, suchas cracking nuts or the shells of molluscs, in order toextract the soft nourishing food which they contain.They are known to make use of stones for such purposes,and it would be but a short step in advance for[Pg 243]them to choose one suitable for use as a hammer, andanother suitable for use as a piercing or cutting tool.And from such a stage there is a gradual and easypassage to the simplest breaking and preparation ofstones for use—in fact, to the earliest fabrication of"implements."

It is obvious when we compare not only the structurebut what we know of the ways and habits of the lowestsavages and the highest apes, that it is not by merestrength, swiftness, or agility that man has flourished andestablished himself, leaving the apes far behind him as"inferior" creatures, though as a matter of fact he is notdeficient in these qualities. It is by his observation,knowledge, memory, and purposive skill that he hassucceeded, and it is easy to point out a whole series ofmodifications of form separating man from apes, whichare clearly contributory to the development of the mentalqualities which give him his actual superiority. I thinkwe are justified in taking the large opposable thumb andfingers as the starting-point in man's emergence from theape stage of his ancestry. The exploring hand, with itsthumb and forefinger, is the great instrument by whichthe intelligence, first of the monkey and then of man,has been developed. The thumb of the gorilla is, inproportion to the size of the fingers, very much smallerthan that of man, but bigger than that of the chimpanzee,and much bigger than that of the orang and of lowermonkeys. It is evident that the thumb has increased insize in the man-like apes, and in man himself this increasehas been carried much further, and led to theperfecting of the hand as an instrument of explorationand construction. Contributory to the perfecting of thehand has been the gradual attainment of the uprightcarriage, and the use of the feet alone for walking, and[Pg 244]the reservation of the hand for delicate exploring operations,and the bringing of objects near to the eye, to thenose, the ear, and the mouth for investigation by thegreat organs of special sense. The foot has become"plantigrade" in connexion with the assumption ofupright carriage. It has independently become plantigradein the gibbons and the baboons. That is to say,we and they do not walk on the edge of the half-graspingfoot as do the gorilla, chimpanzee, and orang, but moresteadily and firmly on its flat sole (plantar surface), as dothe bears and some other animals. At the same timeman has lost very greatly (but not entirely) the powerof grasping with his toes. The upright carriage enabledthe early ancestors of man to survey, and so to judgethe conditions of safety or danger at a distance fromthem, as well as to devote their hands to new and specialuses.

THE upright carriage of man has entailed remarkablechanges in the proportions and shapes of parts ofhis body, as well as leading to special skill in the use ofhis hands. The vertebral column of man has not thesingle curve of a bow, as it has (practically) in the higherapes, but as he stands it curves (slightly, it is true, butdefinitely) forward at the neck, backward at the chest,forward at the loins, and backward again at the hips, anarrangement which appears to protect to some extentthe brain from the transmission to it along the vertebralcolumn of the shock caused by the sudden impact of thefeet on the ground in jumping. The head is balancedon the top of this slightly elastic curvilinear column, thejoint by which the skull rests on the vertebræ beingplaced beneath the brain-box and near the middle regionof the skull. The ligaments which hold the skull inplace are smaller than those in monkeys. In the higherapes the skull is not so balanced, but is held by verystrong ligaments and muscles braced, as it were, on tothe end of the forwardly sloping, nearly straight, backbone,from which it projects, and has further to be heldin position by a great ligament attached to it and thedorsal processes of the neck vertebræ. As an adaptationto the upright carriage of man, the shape of hispelvic bones is that of a basin upon which his coiled[Pg 246]mass of intestines can rest when he stands erect. Thepelvic bones of the higher apes are flat, nearly parallelwith the broad plane of the back, and give no suchsupport; the viscera have to rest against the wall of theabdomen in the stooping position assumed by theseanimals in walking. The abdominal walls are consequentlystrong and thick, and the abdomen protrudes,as does that of a very young child. One result of man'supright carriage, showing that it is a recent acquirementand one to which he is not completely adapted, is thefrequent occurrence in him of "hernia," or protrusion ofthe intestine through certain spaces in the deep fibrouswall of the abdomen. There would be no excessivepressure upon these spaces (near the groin), and thereforelittle danger of hernia, were it not for man's newly-acquiredhabit of erect gait. He is still incompletelyadapted to the upright pose.

The arms of man are relatively shorter and his legsmuch longer than in the man-like apes. The Neandermenwere more ape-like in these proportions than aremodern races of man, and show also an "ape-like"curvature of the thigh bone which in man is straight.Whilst the arm and hand of man has gradually becomea more delicate thing than that of the apes, and capableof much greater variety and efficiency in the movementsof its parts, this condition has come about by alterationin proportions and to some extent shape, and not byany great change in construction. Only two musclesexist in connexion with man's hand not found in thatof the higher apes. They are small slips adding to theefficiency of the fingers and thumb, whilst in the footthere is in man a small muscle connected with its outerborder—"the peroneus tertius"—which helps to keepthe sole of the foot turned downwards, and is not present[Pg 247]in the apes. The general shape and proportionate sizeof the muscles of the leg in man give it a very differentappearance from that of the ape; but there are nomuscles or bones present which are not found in theapes. The beautiful outline and form of the human legand buttocks are directly the result of the increasedsize of certain muscles used in maintaining the uprightposition, and in the peculiarly human swing of the legin walking and running. Their beauty, like that of theother specially human features which we consider beautiful,depends upon the fact that their development, in dueproportion, is a necessary condition of efficiency, activity,and strength in movements and attitudes which havegradually been acquired by man, and distinguish himfrom the apes. Our admiration for them is a sort ofself-love, a worship of an ideal of efficiency and balancewhich is specifically "human," and is more or less fullyrealized in every individual. Probably sexual selectionhas had a large share in thus moulding the human form.The apes do not present the development of the glutealregion characteristic of man, and the muscles of both thearms and legs in them are, though very powerful, lessfleshy and more "stringy" than those of man. Thereis, indeed, a difference of "quality" in the muscles ofapes and men, especially civilized men, which needsinvestigation by the microscopist and experimentalphysiologist.

Though we necessarily compare man with the highestexisting apes, we must not suppose that the man-likeape from which the earliest ape-like men developed wasin fact a gorilla or a chimpanzee. The survival of thegorilla and chimpanzee at this day necessarily impliesthat they were not the actual ancestral forms whichbecame modified and superseded in the course of man's[Pg 248]development. Very probably the ape (the creature moreape-like than man-like, of which more anon) from whichman took his direct descent had already developed aplantigrade foot—that is a foot of which the sole isplaced on the ground for support, as it is in gibbons,baboons, and bears, but not in most apes, nor in cats,dogs, sheep, and horses! And probably the hands ofthat ancestral ape were already used more dexterously inconsequence, and the dog teeth were less needed either infighting or in breaking up food and so had become smaller.

This reflection brings us to the differences betweenthe teeth of a man and those of apes. The face ofapes is drawn forward so as to approach in form the"muzzle" of a dog. It is far less muzzle-like in themore man-like apes than in the dog-faced baboons, andin the least civilized living races of man is much lessprominent—what is called "prognathous"—than in thehighest existing apes. In civilized living races of man itis markedly reduced, so that in the habitual carriageof the head, with the eyes looking forward over ahorizontal plane at right angles to the vertical or uprightbody, the front border of the jaws, in which thechisel-like incisor teeth are set, usually projects but verylittle beyond the brow or forehead. In Greek sculptureand other examples regarded by us as types of "beauty,"the jaws do not project at all. Such a face is called"orthognathous." This modification of the shape of theface is due to the progressive dwindling in the size of thefront part of the jaw and its teeth in the series dog, ape, less-civilizedman, highly-civilized man, and is accompanied byan increase in the size of the front part of the brain. Thenumber of the teeth and their arrangement in groups areidentical in man and the apes. The most important differenceis in the size of the front teeth, and especially in the size[Pg 249]of the "corner" teeth (one on each side above and below),also called eye-teeth, dog-teeth, or "canines." In thehighest apes, as in all monkeys, the canine teeth are verylarge, and even tusk-like in the males, projecting above thehorizonal line formed by the crowns of the other teeth. Thisprojecting of the canine teeth results in their not meetingone another point to point when the jaws are closed,but necessitates one, the lower, shutting in front of theother, and a space is left in the row of teeth, both in theupper and the lower jaw, for this interlocking of the greatcanines. It is called a "diastema." Man stands in strongcontrast to the apes in this respect. His canines do notproject beyond the level of the neighbouring teeth, andthere is no "diastema" or gap in either the upper orlower row of his teeth.[9] There is no trace of such agap nor any excess of size of the canines in any livingrace of men, and what is more remarkable, the jaws ofvery ancient prehistoric men which have been found inthe Middle Pleistocene—the Neander or Moustierianmen as well as the more ancient jaw from Heidelberg(see p. 286)—do not show any difference in this respectfrom the most advanced European race. On the otherhand, it is one of the most remarkable features presentedby the recently discovered "Piltdown" lower jaw thatit had a larger canine tooth than that of any recent orfossil man, and consequently a gap or "diastema" in therow of teeth (see Chap. XXX). This difference betweenmen and apes is all the more marked since the grindersor cheek teeth (called also molars) of man and thehigher apes agree very closely, each to each in order oftheir position, in the pattern formed by the irregularsurface of the crown. There are some slight differences[Pg 250]in relative size and in the order of their "cutting" orgrowth, but these are trivial. The jaws of man show theirderivation by gradual dwindling from the larger projectingjaws seen in apes and monkeys, in the close setting (that isto say, "crowding") of the teeth, and also in the dwindlingand late "cutting" of the last tooth, in each jaw above andbelow, which we call the wisdom tooth. The "wisdomteeth" are in the higher races of men on their way tototal disappearance. In lower races of men they arelarger than in the higher, and in the man-like apes are offull size, and there is plenty of room in the jaw for them.

In the highest apes as well as the lower, the bonylower jaw slopes gradually backwards and downwardsfrom thepalisade of front chisel-like teeth or incisors(see Fig. 23 C, p. 277). There is no bony projectionbelow the front teeth—in fact, no bony "chin." But inall modern races of men the front part of the semicirclearch of teeth has shrunk or "withdrawn" considerablyor more than has the bony jaw in which the teeth areset. Consequently the bone projects in front of thefront teeth as the bony chin (see Fig. 23 A, p. 277, andalso "Science from an Easy Chair," 1910, pp. 404, 405).This is characteristic of modern races of man and occursin no other animal. The very remarkable fact hasrecently been established that in the ancient species ofman from the Middle and Lower Pleistocene—theNeander man and the Heidelberg man (Homo Neanderthalensis)—thisextra or excessive shrinking of the dentalarch (the half-circle formed by the complete row of teeth)had not taken place. Though the teeth are placedclosely side by side and have the same shape as inmodern man, they are a little bigger and form a largerand longer arch—more like a horse-shoe than a semicircle,and have not shrunk back so as to leave a project[Pg 251]ingbony chin. The bony jawrecedes in these earlyraces of men from the line of the front teeth as it doesin the apes.They have no chin (see Fig. 25, p. 286).

Since we are all accustomed to regard a well-markedchin as a necessary feature of a beautiful human face,and to deplore or disapprove the receding or evanescentchin, it is not improbable that sexual selection hasfavoured the recession of the dental arch with the retentionof the original bulk of the lower front margin of thejaw and chin, though why the chin should be thusappreciated is a matter of speculation. It is remarkablethat in many of the monkeys the hair grows forward asa projecting beard on the front of the jaw, so as toresemble a chin although no chin is there. It is also thefact that some uncivilized races of men trim the beardand train it in a forward growth so as to suggest thepossession of a very prominent chin, when in realitytheir solid chins of flesh and bone are not especiallylarge.

It is not easy to suggest how the reduction in sizeof the canines and front teeth and of the length of thejaw could be of such advantage to incipient man as tolead to the survival of those individuals in which theseparts were least developed, and so gradually to thecrowding of the teeth, reduced in size, into a jaw ofreduced length, whilst at a late stage, long after manwas man and no ape, the teeth became so reduced involume as to leave the lower margin of the lower jaw—projectingfar in front of them as the "chin," theeminently human chin. The nutrition of these partsplaced in the head near the brain, the great caninehaving so vast a fang that it reaches up to the eye-socket,whence it is called the "eye-tooth," renders itprobable that there is a relation depending on nutrition[Pg 252]and blood supply between them and that all-importantorgan contained in the neighbouring bony box, thebrain. As the great teeth and long jaw have dwindled,the brain has increased in volume, and, what is moreimportant, in activity.

Other neighbouring bony structures have dwindledwhilst the brain has increased. The great longitudinaland transverse crests of bone seen on the skull of thegorilla may never have existed in that form of ape fromwhich man is derived, but a tendency to such ridge-likeoutgrowth and to a greater thickness of the bony wallof the brain-case characterizes apes as distinguished frommen, and its disappearance is one of the changes whichhave accompanied the expansion of the brain-case and theincreased size of brain in man. Lower races of existingmen have frequently thicker skulls than the higher races.The bony development of the skull in the higher apesis especially remarkable in the region just above the eye.The upper border of the orbit is greatly thickened, andprojects as a bony arch overhanging the eye. But theextent of this growth, as also of crests on the skull, variesin individuals, and is much smaller in females than inmales. In the young these ridges and prominences areabsent. It is accordingly no very great change thatthey should disappear altogether in man, even were theyas large in the ape-like ancestor of man, which probablythey were not. But the existence of a considerablethickening and forward growth of the eyebrow region ofthe skull is noticed in many human skulls. It isparticularly large in some skulls of Australian "black-fellows,"and is still larger in and characteristic of theancient species of men of the Moustierian period inEurope, Homo Neanderthalensis.

A GREAT and undoubtedly very important differencebetween man and apes is the much greatersize of the brain in man. This difference is most convenientlymeasured by filling the cavity of a skull, onceoccupied by the brain, with shot or other such material,and then measuring the bulk of the material requiredfor that purpose. The unit which it is convenient touse in all such measurements is the cubic centimetre,because it is that used by scientific workers all over theworld. A cubic centimetre is a cube the side of whichis a centimetre long, and two and a half centimetres areequal to one inch. Moreover, if ever one is doubtful asto just how much an inch is, one has only to get hold ofa halfpenny and mark off its breadth on a piece of paper.That is an inch, and two-fifths of it are a centimetre.Using, then, cubic centimetres as our units, we find thata good average European human brain is of the bulk of1500 units. The gorilla has a slightly larger brain thanthe chimpanzee or the orang. Individual specimensdiffer a good deal. This is noteworthy as showing atendency of this important organ to vary. One of goodmedium bulk measures 500 units, or a third of that ofthe well-developed European. The size of Europeanhuman brains also varies within very large limits—abouta third more and a third less—that is, from about 1000[Pg 254]units to nearly 2000. Idiots have abnormally smallbrains which are often deformed. We leave them asidefor the moment. Healthy European adults have beenmeasured with a brain of only 1000 units. Australian"black-fellows" have, it seems, in some cases a brainwhich measures as little as 900 units, but in othersit reaches 1500. The skull of the fossil man fromPleistocene (possibly Pliocene) gravels in Java (knownas Pithecanthropus) had a capacity of only 900 units.

If we suppose (as it is legitimate to do) that somespecimens of the gorilla may have a brain a third largerthan the average we get 670 units for the biggest gorillabrain, and if we similarly assume that the primitivehuman race of the Java gravel varied to the sameextent—namely, by a third more or less around 900 asthe normal—we find that the greatest size of the gorillabrain overlaps the smallest of the Javan Pithecanthropus,whilst the largest of that race would overlap not onlythe Australian but the smaller-sized brains of Europeans.Hence, if we accept, as we must, the fact that the brainof man and the man-like apes naturally varies greatlyin volume in different individuals, there is no absolutegap in regard to size between the higher races of manand the apes. The difference is bridged over by thelower races of man and the exceptional individuals ofapes.

A remarkable feature in regard to man's brain is itsgrowth. Since it is contained in a bony box, which inthe adult is firmly ossified and incapable of expansion,it is obvious that the brain, too, must cease growingwhen the bony box has closed in. In the apes thisoccurs at an earlier age than in man. The brain-boxhas its sides and roof constituted by a number of plate[Pg 255]likepieces of bone, which increase in area by additionto their margins, and finally meet each other and growinto one another, forming an irregular notched line ofjunction, which is called a "suture." The sutures themselvesare often obliterated by bony deposit in maturelife. In man the bony plates of the skull are separatedby large membranous interspaces at birth—"the fontanelles"—andby delay in the junction of the bony piecesthe expansion of the brain is permitted. About one-fourthof the cases of idiocy reported upon by medicalobservers are accompanied by an unusually small size ofthe brain-case (as small in some cases as 750 units), dueto the premature closure of its bony walls at an unusuallyearly period of growth. It, indeed, seems(though this is a suggestion rather than a demonstratedconclusion) that the increase of the size of the brain innormal men, as compared with apes, and the consequentdevelopment of increased mental capacity in man, maybe directly set up by a delay in the ossification of thewalls of the brain-case in man, as compared with hisape-like progenitors.

One of the most definite distinctions between presentman and the higher apes is the length of time duringwhich the period of growth—namely, "childhood"—andthe subsequent adolescent stage of development is prolonged.The chimpanzee "Sally" was full-grown andadult at eight years of age. Savage races show maturityat an age which seems to Europeans astonishing—sometimesas early as the eleventh year. But even withinthe European area there is great variation in this matter,the Southern people maturing more rapidly than theNorthern. There certainly is a tendency in moderncivilization to defer the recognition of emergence fromchildhood, though whether the physical facts of growth[Pg 256]and maturity of structure justify such a delay is notobvious. The history of our schools and universitiesand the records as to the age at which marriage takesplace bear evidence of this modern increase of theduration of adolescence. In any case, whether theprolongation of the period of physical growth anddevelopment is even now still being increased, it iscertain that the extension has taken place in formerages, and that the mental development of man is directlyrelated in the first place to this increased period ofgrowth, and in the second place to the prolongation ofthe period of organized "education" directed by theelder generation. The brain of the human child atfour years of age may not infrequently reach as muchas 1300 units in volume—more than double that of afull-grown gorilla—and it continues to increase in volumefor some eight years, though it is difficult to say preciselywhen the interlocking of the bony pieces of the skullreaches a point when they can no longer yield to theexpansion of the brain. The increase of the cavity ofthe skull practically ceases in childhood, and the increasein the size of the head subsequently is due to the increasedsize of muscles and fibrous structures on theouter surface of the brain-box. True as it is that man'sbrain is much larger than that of the higher apes, it isalso true that the difference is far greater between thehigher apes and the lower monkeys both as to the sizeof the brain and the complexity of the folds and furrowswhich mark the surface of the cerebral hemispheres. Inthese respects, as in every other anatomical feature, aswas insisted by Huxley, there is less difference betweenman and the higher apes than between the higher apesand the lower monkeys, so that there is no pretext forplacing man in a group apart from the apes and monkeysor for suggesting the existence of any great structural[Pg 257]chasm between man and apes; on the contrary, theirlikeness in all important details of structure is very close.

The comparison of the size of the brain in variouscases which has just been made is one of absolute size,leaving out of consideration the size and weight of thebody and limbs. Putting aside the exceptional pygmyraces of man (which there is no reason to regard asprimitive), the average adult man is larger and heavierthan the chimpanzee, and taller than, though not sopowerful as, the orang. The gibbons are quite small—rarely3 feet in height—but the male gorilla is, whenadult, a much heavier animal than man, and oftenmeasures 5 feet 8 inches from the heel to the top ofthe head. Recently even larger specimens have beenmeasured, and 6 feet 6 inches is quoted (probably anover-estimate) as the height attained by some specimens.This fact removes any difficulty about comparing theabsolute size of brain in man and these apes. It alsorenders it unlikely that the primitive ape-men or men-apeswere smaller than modern men, whilst the large sizeand weight of some of the earliest "shaped" flints (ofPliocene age) attributed to primitive man, make itprobable that the men who used these flints were largerand more powerful, at any rate in the hands and arms,than modern races of men. Size and strength are, then,not points which offer any difficulty in the passage fromape to man.

What (it may well be asked) is the significance ofman's greater brain? What was the advantage to man'sape-like progenitors in an increased volume of brain? Itshould be noted at once that the pattern of the "convolutions"marked out on the surface of the brain by agreat series of winding "ditches" or "furrows" is based[Pg 258]on one common plan in the group of monkeys and man—aplan differing from that seen in other groups whichhave a convoluted brain-surface—for instance from thatseen in the carnivora (dogs, bears, and cats) and againfrom that seen in the ungulates (hoofed mammals).The convolutions of the brain of the higher apeshave been minutely compared with those of man'sbrain. The two sets of convolutions agree very closely,but are less extensive in the apes and certain smalltracts of convolutions present in man, are deficient inthe apes, especially in the frontal region and at thehinder or occipital region. We know very little of theexact significance of each region of convolution in thebrain. The existence of convolutions separated byfurrows clearly enough increases the amount of surfaceof the brain, which consists of a grey substance called"the cortex of the brain," and is known to be a peculiarand specially active material. The mere comparison ofthe size and height of the frontal region in differentanimals and in man justifies the conclusion that anincrease of this part of the brain is more especially relatedto increased intelligence. Further, the facts derivedfrom observation of the consequences of disease or ofmechanical injury in man have led to the conclusionthat the "faculty of language" (the significant use ofwords, not the mere production of them as sounds) isespecially connected with one of the frontal convolutions,which is feebly represented in the apes. The convolutionsof the brain of lower races of men have not beenvery fully studied, but the brain of a Hottentot womanwas long ago carefully described and illustrated, showingless complexity of the convolutions than is usual inEuropean man, and making a distinct approach in thisrespect to the apes; but still possessing in fair proportionthe convolutions characteristic of the human brain.

Abundance of convolutions and their increase at thisor that part of the brain must, it is obvious, increase theactive brain substance. But there is some evidence of aspecial kind as to the significance of increased bulk ofthe entire brain, apart from the folding of its surface.This is afforded by the brain cavities of the skulls observedin the series of vertebrate animals. The older groups—those"lower," that is farthest removed from man andthe animals most like him—have in proportion to thebulk of their bodies much smaller brains than the later-developedgroups. Thus fishes have smaller brains thanreptiles, and these have much smaller brains thanmammals. A cod-fish has in proportion to its bulk ofliving material a smaller brain than a crocodile or aturtle, and these have a much smaller brain than a pig.Not only so, but earlier kinds of mammals than the pighave a smaller brain proportionately than that animalhas, and pigs have a smaller brain in proportion to theirbulk than monkeys, and monkeys (as we have seen) asmaller brain than man. This increase of size is, ingeneral, proportionate to an increase in the variety andcomplexity of the control of the movements of the bodyand their relation to the activities of the great organs ofsense, such as the eyes, and the organs of smell andhearing.

But there is something more involved in the increaseof the brain than this. We now know that the brain ofvery many kinds of animals has been increasing in sizein the later geological periods. Huge reptiles as big aselephants existed on the land surface of the globe beforethe hairy, warm-blooded mammals which now dominatethe situation had developed in number or in size—namely,in the period of and before the chalk whichgeologists call the Mesozoic or secondary period, to[Pg 260]distinguish it both from the tertiary period, whenmammals were abundant and large, and from thePalæozoic or primary period, at the end of which terrestrialvertebrates first began to make their appearance.These huge reptiles—such as the Iguanodon, theTriceratops, and the Diplodocus (all to be seen inskeleton, though not in the flesh, at the Natural HistoryMuseum)—had brains of an incredibly small size, muchsmaller in proportion to their bulk than those of livingreptiles, such as lizards and crocodiles. The same extraordinarydifference of size of brain is seen when wecompare the large living mammals with their equallylarge extinct forerunners in the early tertiary strata.The skulls and whole skeletons of great rhinoceros-likeanimals—some of them ancestrally related to our livingrhinoceroses—are dug up in early tertiary sands andclays, which have absurdly small brains. We can take amould of the interior of the brain cases of these extinctanimals and compare them with that of the recentrhinoceros. We find that the extinct animal's brain wasin many cases only one-eighth the bulk of that of itsmodern representative!

The same disproportion in the size of the moreancient animal's brain is found when we compare thebrain of the modern horse with that of its early tertiaryancestors. The modern animal has, as a rule, a verygreatly increased size of brain when compared with itsMiocene forefather. In fact, it seems that the brain hashad, as it were, an independent development in severallines of descent, and whilst the rest of the structure ofthe ancestral form has been only slightly modified in itsproportions, the brain cavity and the brain within it hasenormously increased. It is therefore not so exceptionala thing as it at first appears—but only an instance of a[Pg 261]change more or less widely exhibited among later animals,as compared with their near relatives in the past—whenwe establish the fact that the brain of the man-like apesis much bigger than that of lower monkeys, and that thebrain of man, who is so closely similar in all structuraldetails to those apes, has attained to a bulk three timesthat of the ape. The vast increase in the size of thebrain in recent animals, as compared with their closelyrelated representatives of an earlier period, is a frequentand regular thing. It is possible to make a suggestion,of some plausibility, as to the meaning and value of thisincreased size of brain, which will be found in the nextchapter.

JUST as man's brain is enormously larger than thatof the ordinary monkeys, although his generalmake and anatomy is closely similar to theirs, so we findthat the rhinoceros has an enormous brain as comparedwith extinct rhinoceros-like animals, the predecessors andancestors of those now living. The extinct Titanotheriumof the lower Miocene period managed to carry on itslife in an efficient way and to hold its own for a considerableperiod with a brain which was only one-eighththe bulk of that of a modern rhinoceros, as did otheranimals in the past with even greater bodies and smallerbrains. To get some suggestion as to the significanceof this fact we must, in however incomplete a way,distinguish some of the main features of the mentalprocesses which go on in man and animals and havetheir "seat" in the brain.

Descartes and other philosophers have held thatthere is a great difference in the mental processes ofanimals as compared with those of man in this, namely,that man is "conscious," that is to say, conscious ofhimself as "I," and, as it were, looks on at himselfacting on and being acted on by surrounding existences,whilst (so it is assumed) animals have not this consciousness,but are "automata," going through all the processes[Pg 263]of life, and even behaving more or less as man does insimilar circumstances, yet without being "conscious."It is, no doubt, true that many of the complicated actionsof insects are carried on without consciousness of thepurpose or significance of what they are doing. Such isthe storing by certain wasps of smaller insects in carefully-cutchambers, to serve as food for the wasp's young,to be hatched from an egg to be laid in the "cold-storagechamber." The mother wasp will go on doingthis when she has had the hind part of her body removedand has no eggs to lay. This mechanical unreasoningbehaviour in insects is without exception, so that wemust accept M. Fabre's conclusion that they are, in fact,unconscious "automata." I have already referred to thissubject in an earlier chapter, p. 197.

We at once place ourselves in difficulty in discussingthis subject by the use of the words "conscious" and"consciousness," for, as so often happens, they are customarilyapplied in a vague and uncertain way to the mentalactivities of man—without any precise agreement as towhat is meant by either of them. We are all agreedthat a rational human being may go through a series ofelaborate actions apparently directed by purpose andyet not be what we call "conscious," that is to say,"aware" of what he is doing. This occurs in "sleep-walking"and in "day-dreaming." And again, we knowthat a man may be evidently conscious during a certainperiod, and yet forget directly afterwards that he hasbeen conscious and said and done certain things duringthat period. This often happens after "concussion ofthe brain." It is, as a matter of fact, uncertain whetherone ought to regard the condition of a man during thatobliterated or forgotten period of seeming consciousnessas rightly to be described by the term "conscious." And[Pg 264]the reason why one has this doubt is that we all recognizethat consciousness without memory is really a contradictionin terms. Memory—the inscription or record inour brains of past experiences—exists without consciousness,as we all know, by observation of ourselves and ourfellows. But the very essence of consciousness is memory.We cannot even be "conscious" of the experience of asingle moment without being also conscious of thememory of some previous condition—however small,temporary, and incomplete the memory may be. To beconscious we mustcompare the impressions reaching thebrain at this moment with the memory of those of a pastmoment. And in lower animals and infants beginningto be conscious, the "recollections" available or accessibleto consciousness may not extend farther back than afew seconds! If the memory of past experiences ofwhich we are aware, that is to say, which are accessibleto consciousness, is large and extends over the impressionsof days, weeks, and years, then the conscious man oranimal is in a totally different position from that of theman or animal who has only a very short and vaguememory of which he or it is conscious. Thus it may betrue that an animal or an infant is "conscious" and iscomparing the present with the recollection of the past,and yet that the basis of comparison—the reach ofmemory accessible to consciousness—is so small as to beof little or no significance. Yet it is the beginning of aprocess which, gradually enlarging the access of consciousnessto "memory," passes through a thousand degrees ofincreasing grasp and complexity (due to increased complexityin the microscopic connexions of the structuralunits, the branching nerve-corpuscles, which build up thebrain) until it gives us the "consciousness" of a Shakespeare,a Newton, or a Darwin. The important fact inthis consideration of what we mean by "conscious" and[Pg 265]"consciousness" is, that memory is always for mostlower animals, and during a period of growth in man,untouched by consciousness, and much of it remains soin all of us. As the dawn lights up a distant peakand then another and then a whole range and spreadsto valley and plain, giving greater detail and varietyas the moments pass—so does consciousness slowlyinvade in the course of development, whether of theindividual or the species, the territory of memory. Inthe most man-like animals and the more ape-like menthe process has not gone very far. In the highest apesconsciousness is so limited in its access to memory thatit is but a glimmer, a mere rudiment, of what it becomesin the modern races of mankind. We must not overlookthe fact that it is only when we have to deal with menfar advanced from the state of primeval savagery thatthe memory itself becomes rich and varied. Observation,memory, and record—the vast tradition of taboo, knowledge,custom, law, and religion not inborn in our structurebut handed on by spoken or written word—are developedand increased by the very fact that the daylight of consciousnesshas reached the memory of them when lesscopious than they become in later development, and hasgiven them life-saving value.

There is no reason to doubt that consciousness—abeginning of it—exists in such animals as dogs andmonkeys. And it is equally true that man not onlyexists for some months after he is born without being"conscious," but for some years is so only in disconnectedintervals. As a matter of fact, he is very incompletely"conscious," even when adult. He is quite unconsciousof a great many of his elaborate actions. He has,moreover, an "unconscious memory"—that is to say, amemory of the existence of which he is not conscious—[Pg 266]whichguides him to, and in, the most complicated proceedings,and astonishes him when, by some chance, it issuddenly revealed to consciousness, or is converted into"conscious memory," when he dreams. Every manfinds, sooner or later, that he has stored within him aregister of things, persons, and events of the existence ofwhich he was totally unaware. The gradual developmentof "consciousness" in higher ape-like animals and lowermen, in the course of ages, is not the unparalleled thingwhich one is apt, at times, to consider it to be, since wecan all remember the dawning of our own consciousnessand its gradual development. We can also watch itsgrowth in that most mysterious and wonderful casket ofancestral secrets and unfathomable destiny—a humaninfant.

Inscrutable as is the ultimate nature of "consciousness,"we may put its further consideration aside on thepresent occasion, since it forms no actual barrier betweenmen-like apes and ape-like men. On the contrary, thehigher apes, the lower living races of men and thechildren of higher races, furnish us with evidence oftransition from the lower condition of automatism to thehigher one of self-recognition or consciousness in itsmost developed form. There is, however, a leadingdifference in the mental organization and mental processesof various animals, including man, which is ofmore importance in the matter which we are considering,and is largely related to the physical measurable differencein the size of the brain. The insects of which Fabresays: "They know nothing about anything," inherit anervous mechanism—a brain and elongated mass ofnerve-cells and fibres, like our spinal cord—which workssharply and definitely like a toy-automaton. Touchthis part and that movement follows; excite the sense of[Pg 267]vision with this visible thing, and such and such a movementof the limbs or jaws or other parts ensues. Thestimulation of skin, eye, ear, or nose conveys a "message"by nerves to the "brain," or centre, and immediately byother nerves an "answer" is conveyed from the brain orcentre in the shape of an order to this and those musclesto contract, the appropriate nerves being set at work andexciting the related muscles to contraction. The numberof possible excitations and related responsive movementsthus arranged is numerically very great in many animals,but they are limited. They are inherited just as theyare, and come into action as soon as the necessarygrowth of the parts involved is attained, without hesitationor tentative trial. They are ready made. Theterms "instinct" and "instinctive" should be limited tothe action of this inherited apparatus or mechanism.

All animals, including man, have more or less ofsuch an inherited instinctive nervous apparatus. Man,or for the matter of that an animal, may be "conscious"(in the sense of being "aware") of the stimulus given tothis inherited apparatus, and of its related action, or hemay be "unconscious" of either. The point is that wehave here the "working" of an apparatus inherited in acomplete working state; it is, therefore, what we callinstinctive. On the other hand, there are in higheranimals, and especially in man, a vast number of actionsperformed which are not the outcome of an inborn ready-madenervous mechanism. On the contrary, theseactions are determined by a mechanism built up in theanimal during its individual existence—a mechanismwhich is formed by its individual experience acting onits nerve-cells, and is the outcome of observation, comparison,and, more or less, of processes which we calljudgment and reasoning. The persistence of this[Pg 268]mechanism built up by the individual, as well as itscontinuous elaboration and development, is what we call"memory," unconscious or conscious. It is misleadingto speak of "inherited memory" or "race memory," andto apply it in any way to the inherited mechanisms ofinstinct; the word should be reserved in its ordinarylimitation to an individual's record. This new andsuperior apparatus appears to require a much largerbulk of brain-substance for its elaboration than thatwhich is sufficient for the inherited mechanisms ofinstinct. It works in closer response to the innumerabledetails of the individual case, and so must be muchmore complicated, and we can well believe must requirea larger instrument. Obviously it is an advantage to itspossessor. He (be he animal or man) is provided notwith a simple response suitable for the average ofincidents in his life, but has, by the "education" due tothe circumstances in which his individual life is carriedon, formed an ever-increasing store of special littlemechanisms, giving the useful or advantageous responsewhich he has himself discovered to be appropriate to thisor that sign, sound, colour, shape, smell, touch, or whatnot which may assail his senses. In proportion as thebrain increases in volume (especially that part of itwhich is called "the cortex of the hemispheres") theanimal to which that brain belongs loses—gets rid of—inheritedmechanisms or instincts, and becomes "educable,"that is to say, capable of forming for itself new individualbrain mechanisms based on memorized experience.

"Educability" is the quality which distinguishes thebrain of increased size. Dogs are more "educable"than rabbits; monkeys more so than dogs; and menmore so—vastly more so—than monkeys and apes.The human infant is born with a few inherited mechanisms[Pg 269]of "instinct," such as that which causes it to find itsmother's nipple and to suck it, and to cling and supportits own weight as no full-grown child can do. It issingularly free from any large number of inherited"instincts," and, to its own great advantage, has, duringthe many years in which it is protected by its parents,to learn everything and to construct new brainmechanisms—the results of "education" of the individual.We here use the word "education" in its proper andwidest sense.

Thus we get an indication of "the reason why" themodern rhinoceros has a brain eight times as big as thetitanotherium's. It is more "educable." The ancestorsof our modern armour-plated friend have been survivingand beating their less "educable" brothers and sistersand cousins through a vast geological lapse of time; andthe brains of the survivors have always been bigger, andthey have become more educable and more educateduntil the race has culminated in those models of "sweetreasonableness," the modern rhinoceroses! It must beconfessed that this character attributed to the rhinocerosis a matter of inference and not of direct observation ofthat animal when under his native sky. We do notjudge the survivor of a fine early Miocene family by thefury and annoyance he shows when shot at, nor by thestolid contempt with which he treats mankind at theZoo. The same signification—"educability"—attachesto the large brain of the higher apes; and man's stilllarger brain means still greater educability and resultingreasonableness.

In order that natural selection and the survival ofthe fittest should have led to this increased size andaccompanying educability of the brain, it is necessary to[Pg 270]suppose that the individuals with the more educablebrain as they appeared profited by it, that is to say, didbecome more educated, and so defeated their rivals, andsurvived and transmitted their increased size of brainlittle by little in succeeding generations. There is nodifficulty about admitting this supposition in regard tothe passage from higher ape-like creatures to later formshaving a full-sized brain, such as we find in theNeanderthal man and in some Australians. But we aremet here by what looks, at first sight, as a factinconsistent with our view. The obvious increasededucability and consequent increased education of lowerraces of man by the circumstances of their lives, placesthem clearly enough in a position of great advantageover the higher surviving apes. But when we comparethe actual mental accomplishments of the highestcivilized races of man with those of big-brained savages,we find that a large proportion of individuals in thecivilized races are much farther ahead of the lower savageraces than most of these are ahead of the higher apes.Newton, Shakespeare, and Darwin are in mental accomplishmentfarther away from an Australian black, or evena Congo negro, than these "savages" are from a gorillaor a chimpanzee. Yet the difference when we comparethe size and the abundance of the convolutions of thebrain of the European philosopher and the black-fellowdoes not seem, superficially, to be proportionate to thedifference in the mental performance of the two. Nominute study of the microscopic differences in thestructure of the two brains has, as yet, been made, and itis probable that there is a greater difference here than inthe mere shape of the brain-mass. It seems that the"educability" of the brain measured by its size is littlegreater in the one group of men than in the other.And it is found—so far as observation and experiment[Pg 271]have been carried—that individual savages belonging toraces showing very low mental accomplishments in theirnative surroundings are yet capable of being "educated"to a far higher level of mental performance, whenremoved in early youth from their natural conditionsand subjected to the same conditions as the better-cared-forchildren of a civilized race, than any of them everreach in their own communities.

Very few really satisfactory experiments have beenmade in this direction, but the history of the negroes inAmerica shows that the pure, unmixed negro brain iscapable of showing high mathematical power, musicalgifts of the best, and moral and philosophic activities equalto those of the best, or all but the exceptionally gifted,individuals of European race. It seems that the largeeducable brain gained by man in a relatively earlyperiod of his development from the ape has nowentered on a new phase of importance. The pressure ofnatural selection no longer favours an increased educability(and therefore size) of brain, but the later progress ofman has depended on the actual administration by eachgeneration to its successors of an increasingly systematizedexercise of that brain; in short, it has depended oneducation itself, and on the gigantic new possibilities ofeducation, which have followed from the development,first, of language, then of writing, and lastly of printing,together with the accompanying growth and developmentof social organization, the inter-communication of allraces, and the carrying on, by means of the Great Record—thewritten and printed documents of humanity—ofthe experience and knowledge of each passing generationof men from them to the men of the present moment.

Huxley agreed with Cuvier in the opinion that the[Pg 272]possession of articulate speech is the grand distinctivecharacter of man. It was no sudden acquirement, butwas slowly, step by step, evolved from the significantgrunts and cries of apes in the course of long ages, andcorresponded in its progress with a parallel progress inmental capacities. Once attained, it led to the formationof vast educative products, namely, to oral tradition,to written and then to printed memorials and records.It is not desirable in our present state of knowledgeto speculate as to whether the transitional ape-manacquired the use of fire before or after he had inventedarticulate speech. It probably was acquired very soonafter some skill in the flaking of flints had been attained,and was of immense value, both as a defence againstpredatory animals and as a means of preparing food.Man probably learnt at a very early period to coverhimself with clothing made from the skins of otheranimals, and thus to tolerate cold climates. The useof clothing was correlated with the diminution of hisnatural hairy covering. As to the circumstances whichled to the reduction in size of his canine teeth and thediminution of the projection of his jaws, it is impossibleto say more than that this was favoured by the increasedskill of his hand and by the use of weapons, andprobably was directly correlated with an increasedgrowth of the brain. It is an interesting fact that veryyoung children still exhibit the ancestral tendency tobite when angry, and that the use of the teeth asweapons of attack is more frequent among lower raceswith "prognathous" jaws than among Europeans.

A definite habit of the human infant, that of "crying"—thepeculiar spasmodic howling of very young children—seemsto be unknown in any of the apes. I do notknow what ingenious reason may have been assigned[Pg 273]for this difference. Apes laugh under the same circumstancesas do men, but with less production of soundthan is the case with man and the hyena. Man was,far back in his monkey-days, a social and companion-lovinganimal, and the fact that his laughing and hisweeping are accompanied by noise is due to the desirefor attention and sympathy from his friends. A greatdifference between man and apes is the greater powerof expression of various feelings or emotions by theface, and also the greater variety and significance in manof the gestures both of the upper and the lower limbs.These again are methods of seeking for and gainingsympathy and co-operation. Though not all men andnot all races in an equal degree have mobility andconstantly varying expression in the face, yet it is thefact that the man-like apes which have been studied inlife (the chimpanzee and orang) have even less varietyand range of expression than the most unintelligentsavages. Man seems to have developed in an ever-increasingdegree the habit of watching and interpretingthe face and of giving by it expression to his emotionsand states of mind, thus establishing a ready means ofproducing common feeling and interest in a group ofassociated individuals. This seems to have led to aspecial appreciation of the features of the face, and soto the exercise of sexual selection, resulting in whatwe call "a standard of beauty" in regard to both shapeand expression. It is quite possible that the reductionof the threatening canine teeth and projecting jaw mayhave been furthered by sexual selection when once a bitehad become less effective than a blow with a sharp flint,and when persuasive sounds and gestures gained moreadherents than the display of tusks by a snarl.

What I have written in this and the preceding[Pg 274]chapters, on the differences and likenesses between apesand man and the probable steps of the transition fromape to man, may assist the reader to form a judgmentas to the importance of such remains of extinct racesof men as the skeleton of the Sainte Chapelle, theHeidelberg jaw, and the Piltdown jaw and craniumlately dug up in Sussex, in helping us to furtherknowledge of those steps. It should be definitely notedthat we have not yet found any extinct animals, definitelyto be classed as apes, which come nearer to man thanthe chimpanzee and gorilla, although we are led toinfer that such creatures existed, and that their fossilremains will probably some day be discovered. Onthe other hand, we have in the jaw and skull recentlydiscovered in the gravel of Piltdown, in Sussex, evidenceof a man-like creature which was in most importantfeatures more ape-like than any fossil man yet discovered.

UNTIL the discovery of the wonderful fossil jawin the gravel of Piltdown, near Lewes in Sussex,a favourite view as to the probable relationship of manand existing apes was, that if you could trace back thepedigree of man and of the chimpanzee into remoteantiquity far back in the Tertiary period—probably inthe early Miocene—you would arrive at a smallishcreature with, proportionately to its size, larger jawsand teeth than any modern man, yet smaller thanthose of the living man-like apes, and with a brainnot two-thirds the size of that of the least developedof modern savages, yet larger (in proportion to itsgeneral bulk) than that of the gorilla, chimpanzee, orang,and gibbons. This hypothetical creature would represent,it was held, the common ancestor of the two great"strains" or "stocks" one of which in the course ofgradual modification gave rise to our living "humanity,"and various non-surviving offshoots on the way; whilstthe other gave rise to the company of great apes, withtheir tremendous jaws and dog-teeth, their small brains,and great bony skull-crests for the attachment of hugejaw muscles.

It was insisted that the obvious and immediatesuggestion when once man's descent from animalancestry was admitted, namely, that man has taken[Pg 276]his rise from the most man-like animals we know—thegreat apes—is erroneous. The public was warned thatthey must not jump to such a conclusion; it was tooobvious, too facile. The "celebrated ape of the Darwinshape," which popular songs made familiar to a widepublic, was declared to be only a remote rustic, not tosay brutalized, cousin of humanity, not in the directline happily! Our real ancestors, it was declared, weremild, intelligent little creatures, animals, it is true, butanimals which hastened to separate their mixed qualitiesin two divergent lines of descent—(1) the intelligent,mild-mannered clan who ceased to climb trees, andwalked uprightly on the soles of their feet, whilst theirteeth grew smaller and smaller, and their brains grewbigger and bigger; and (2) the violent tree-climbingmembers of the family, who refused to stand up, andacquired bigger and bigger jaws and teeth, whilst theirbrains remained small, their temper morose, and theirconduct violent.

Old writers before the days of Darwin had talkedand written about the "missing link," though I cannotsay who first used the term in reference to a creatureintermediate between man and apes. Sir Charles Lyellin 1851 made use of the term in regard to extinctanimals which were intermediate in structure betweentwo existing types. A learned and able writer—theScotch judge, Lord Monboddo—in the later half ofthe eighteenth century put forward a theory of thedevelopment of mankind from apes such as the orang,quite independently of any general theory of "transformism"or of the progressive development of the animaland vegetable worlds, from simple beginnings. LordMonboddo, in the absence of any knowledge of a "missinglink," or of animals intermediate between man and the[Pg 277]
[Pg 278]highest living apes, made reasonable speculations (basedon wide study of anthropology and ancient philosophy)as to the passage from the monkey to man. He regardedman as of the same "species" as the orang-utan.He traced the gradual elevation of man to the socialstate as a natural process determined by "the necessitiesof human life." He looked on language (which he saidis not "natural" to man in the sense of being necessaryto his self-preservation) as a consequence of his socialstate. His views about the origin of society and language,and the faculties by which man is distinguished fromthe brutes, are in some interesting ways similar to thoseof Darwin. He conceived man as gradually elevatinghimself from an animal condition in which his mind isimmersed in matter to a state in which mind actsindependent of body. He was ridiculed and declaredto be half mad by his co-temporaries (among themSamuel Johnson), although he was, philosophically, farin advance of those with whom he came into contact.Darwin's views on the "Descent of Man" were met inthe same contemptuous spirit at first. But he held amuch stronger position than Monboddo, having first ofall established the general theory of organic evolution,and having, further, a well-established mass of evidenceat his command in regard to the relationship of manand apes. Further, he had that wonderful champion,Huxley, to fight for him. Huxley's book, "Man's Placein Nature," originally given as lectures which I, then aboy, attended, placed the evidence of the close relationshipof man and the higher apes in the clearest waybefore the public, and, indeed, established the identityof the structure of man with that of the ape, bone forbone, muscle for muscle, and nerve for nerve.

Still, there was always a gap—a place unfilled—[Pg 279]betweenthe large-brained, small-jawed man and thesmall-brained, large-jawed ape. The link was missing.It was hoped, when in 1859 the human workmanshipof the flint axes found with the bones of extinct animalsin our river gravels was recognized, that the bones of themen who made the flint axes would turn up alongside ofthem, and that they would show characters intermediatebetween those of modern man and the great apes. Butno such human bones ever were found in the oldergravels deposited as terraces along their beds by therivers of Western Europe. Human bones, and moreor less complete human skulls, of a highly-developedmodern type (the Cromagnards) were found in cavesassociated with flint tools of a different character tothose common in river gravels. Then we heard a gooddeal about the strangely flat skull-top, or calvaria, foundin a cave near Dusseldorf on the Rhine, associated withthe preaching of a certain hermit named "Neuman"(= Neander). The valley was called "the Neanderthal,"and the skull-top thus came to be called the "Neanderthalskull." Some authorities regarded the Neanderthalskull as that of an outcast idiot! Huxley studied itminutely, and compared it to that of Southern Australianblack-fellows, and held that it took us no nearer to theapes than they did. Then an unsatisfactory small flat skull-top,together with a long, straight thigh-bone, was foundin a gravel in Java, and the name "Pithecanthropus"was applied to these remains. Still we had got nonearer to any knowledge of the missing link.

Of late years we have, however, learnt a great dealmore about the race or species of men of which theNeanderthal skull-top was the first indication. Wenow know that this species of man belonged to a periodolder than that of the other prehistoric cavemen—the[Pg 280]artistic Magdalenians and the bushman-like Aurignacians,which are races of Homo sapiens, not distinct species.The older period is called the Moustierian, or MiddlePaleolithic, period, and is marked by a peculiar type offlint implement. It is later than the older river gravels,in which big tongue-shaped and almond-shaped flintimplements are common. The two skulls and bonesfrom the cave of Spey, in Belgium, the Gibraltar skull,and the skeletons and skulls of the cavern called theChapelle aux Saints in the Corrèze (Central France), andof Ferassy, and some neighbouring localities, all belongto this Moustierian age (so named after the village "LeMoustier," in Perigord), and to the peculiar speciesHomo Neanderthalensis.[10] It is also necessary to includehere the more ancient man indicated by the importantlower jaw found by Schottensack near Heidelberg (see Fig. 25). The Neanderman or Neanderthal-man hada low forehead, with overhanging bony brow-ridges,and a depressed, flattened brain-case, which, nevertheless,was very long and broad and held an unusually largebrain, measuring 1600 cubic centimetres, whereas themodern European averages 1450 only of such units.He had a powerful lower jaw, with a broad, upstandingpiece or vertical "ramus," and no chin protuberance.Yet his teeth were identical with those of a modern man.His thigh-bones were much curved, and his arms a gooddeal longer in proportion to his legs than those of amodern man. He did not carry himself upright, butwith a forward stoop.

Now that we know more of him, we may ask, "Doesthis Neanderthal or Moustierian man fill the place of[Pg 281]the missing link?" It appears that he does not. Heseems to have died out without leaving any descendants.In so far as that his bony jaw sloped directly downwardsand backwards from the margin of the sockets ofhis front teeth, as in the apes, without projecting below,to form a chin protuberance—as it does in all races ofHomo sapiens, on account of the shrinking inwards ofthe gum-line or palisade of front teeth (incisors andcanines)—the Neanderman offers a certain approach tothe condition of the apes; but in other details of shapeof the lower jaw, and especially in regard to the narrownessof the lower surface of the chin and the large anddeep attachments on its inner face, for the digastricmuscle and certain muscles of the tongue, the bonyremains of the Neanderman show that he is distinctlyand altogether human, and not like the higher apes.Moreover, in the very large size of his brain (as muchas 1600 units) the Neanderman shows no approach tothe relatively small brain of the higher apes (whichmeasures 500 units, possibly 800 by exception). Thereis in these structures some argument for the conclusionthat the Neanderman could use articulate language, andinasmuch as the climate in which he flourished wasextremely cold, there is ground for supposing that hecould produce fire and clothe himself with skins. Theflint implements which are definitely associated with himare of more skilful workmanship than the earlier, moreelaborate, but less cleverly conceived, Chellean andAcheuillian implements. We cannot refuse to call him"man"—not Homo sapiens, we agree—but of the"genus" Homo—Homo Neanderthalensis.

So long as the Neanderman was the sole indicationof a creature nearer in some features to the apes thanare any living or extinct races of the species Homo[Pg 282]
[Pg 283]sapiens, the view was possible that the two stocks whichto-day blossom and display themselves—the one as thehuman race, the other as the man-like apes (gorilla,chimpanzee, orang, and gibbons), became separatedfrom one another in long past geologic ages, and thatthey have undergone each an independent developmentfrom a creature so unlike both as seen to-day, that wecannot speak of it as a missing link or a link at all.That view must be considerably modified by the discoveryof the Piltdown jaw—the jaw of EoanthropusDawsoni—which is not that of a "man," that is not ofthe genus Homo, but must, in my judgment, be consideredas one of the family Hominidæ—a Hominid, as[Pg 284]we may say—a species assigned to a new genus Eoanthropusby Smith Woodward, which is grouped with thegenus Homo and the ill-defined genus Pithecanthropus,to form the family Hominidæ; just as the genera Gorilla,Anthropopithecus (chimpanzee), Simia (orang), andHylobates (gibbon) are grouped together to form thefamily Simiidæ. In Eoanthropus we have in our hands,at last, the much-talked-of "missing link"—the link obviouslyconnecting man, the genus Homo, with the apes.

The immense importance of the discovery of the jaw ofEoanthropus by Mr. Dawson, and of the clear perceptionof its distinctive features by Dr. Smith Woodward, is not,as yet, sufficiently recognized. The Piltdown jaw is themost startling and significant fossil bone that has ever beenbrought to light. The Neandermen and the Java skull-topare simply commonplace and insignificant in comparisonwith it. "What leads you to say that?" I may be asked.I say so because this jaw and the incomplete skull foundwith it (Fig. 29) really and in simple fact furnish a link—aform intermediate between the man and the ape. Somefragments of the brain-case were found close to the jaw,indicating a fairly round, very thick-walled brain-case,holding a brain of about 1100 units capacity—very smallfor a man, very large for an ape. It is in the highestdegree probable that the brain-case and the jaw belongto the same individual. If we were to put the brain-caseaside as not certainly belonging to the same individual,we should guess that the owner of the jaw might havehad a brain of about this size—intermediate between thatof the larger apes and the living races of men.[11]

The astonishing thing about this half-jaw fromPiltdown is that it is definitely and obviously more likethat of a chimpanzee—especially a young chimpanzee—thanit is like that of a man (seeFig. 23, A, B, and Cand their explanation). If it had been found under othercircumstances it might quite well have been describedas the jaw of a simiid—a large ape allied to thechimpanzee—with some unimportant resemblance to ahuman one. The front part of the bony jaw of Piltdown,instead of forming a narrow ridge below the protrudingbony chin as in man, is wide and flat; thereis no protruding chin. This very important fact is shownin our Fig. 24, in which the lower margin of the lowerjaw of modern man, of the chimpanzee and of thePiltdown specimen are compared. The jaw ended infront in a wall of bone sloping forward and upwardcontinuously from the flat and broad lower surface ofthe jaw. In this the great incisor teeth were set, as inall Simiids. In man, on the contrary, the front group ofteeth is much smaller than in the apes, and the semicircleformed by the line of the gums is much smaller thanthe semicircular lower margin of the jaw. The semicircleof teeth in man retreats (as it were) behind thefront part of the bony jaw which is left projecting farin advance of the line of teeth, forming the "chin" or"chin protuberance." The Piltdown jaw when foundhad only two of the cheek-teeth in place, as shown inFig. 25. They were certainly very human in patternand in the smoothness of their worn surfaces. But itwas found impossible to fill the front part of the bonyjaw with the missing teeth if they also were fashionedaccording to human pattern. They would in that caseonly reach along the jaw to a distance of an inch andthree-fifths from the first molar tooth, whereas to fill thespace from that tooth up to the front end of the bone[Pg 286]in which the teeth are socketed they must be big enoughto occupy a length of two inches and two-fifths (consultFig. 25 and its explanation). Dr. Smith Woodwarddid not hesitate, in view of the shape of the jawso closely like that of a chimpanzee, to postulate theformer existence in it of big front teeth—canines andincisors—like those of a chimpanzee, and unlike thoseof man, although there was no trace of them left in thespecimen. He restored the jaw, giving it very much theshape and the teeth of a chimpanzee's jaw (Fig. 23, B).That this was a correct interpretation was proved a year[Pg 287]later, in a startling, almost romantic way, by the discoveryby Mr. Dawson and a young French naturalist who wereresifting and searching the gravel at the exact spot wherethe jaw was found, of one of the great canine teeth,twice as big as thatof any man andresembling that ofa chimpanzee (seeFig. 26 and its explanation).Therewas a good deal ofhesitation about theadmission of thecorrectness of Dr.Smith Woodward'spresentation of thejaw of Eoanthropus,with so close a resemblanceto thatof a chimpanzee.But the careful considerationof thespecimen, and aboveall the welcome discoveryof the greatape-like canine, hasnow convinced every anatomist of thetruth of Dr. Woodward's restoration.The jaw itself and the recovered caninetooth, as well as the completely restored model of the twosides of the lower jaw and of the brain-case, may nowbe seen and studied by visitors to the Natural HistoryMuseum. They are placed in the Geological Gallery.I have visited with Mr. Dawson the gravel at Piltdownwhere the jaw and skull were found, and have picked[Pg 288]up there humanly worked flints of very primitive workmanship.I have also followed with Dr. Smith Woodwardthe development and confirmation of his interpretation ofthe jaw.

I now desire to insist upon the legitimate conclusionto be drawn from this wonderful specimen. That conclusionis that the creature, indicated by it, is not (or wasnot when it was alive) an eccentric cousin either of theSimiid or of the Hominid stock, but represents a real"missing link," an animal intermediate in great andobvious features between the two stocks, and either tobe described as an ape which had become man-like or asa man who still retained characteristic ape-like features—atruly connecting or linking form. Nothing like it,nothing occupying such a position, has hitherto beendiscovered. It brings the focus of interest in the[Pg 289]knowledge of primitive man away from the caves ofFrance to the thin patch of iron-stained gravel in themeadow-land of the River Ouse as it flows through theSussex weald. These remains are the first remains of aman-like creature found in a Pleistocene river gravel,and they exceed in interest any human remains as yetknown. There is now reason to hope that more suchremains will be discovered in similar gravels.[12]

It would be highly important were we able toarrive at a satisfactory conclusion as to what age must beattributed to the Piltdown jaw and skull. Did we knowtheir age their true significance as a link between manand ape would be more easily estimated. The gravelin which they were found contains a handful, as it were,of the sweepings of the land surface of the great Wealdvalley of Sussex of all ages and periods since theemergence of the chalk from the ocean floor—animmense lapse of time, amounting probably to millionsof years! In this sparse and inconspicuous patch ofgravel we find fragments of teeth of mastodon andelephant and rhinoceros of Miocene and Pliocene age;we also find bones of quite late kinds of mammals of thePleistocene period; we also find two kinds of roughlychipped flint instruments belonging the one to an earlierand the other to a later age. All are mixed up togetherin the gravel. When we come to the question as to[Pg 290]which of theseremains are ofanimals whichwere the contemporariesofEoanthropus,all we can sayis that Eoanthropus,thecreature whosejaw was foundat Piltdown,may have livedas late as thelatest or asearly as theearliest of theanimals whoseremains areassociated withit. The Eoanthropusremainsare notso heavilymineralized, itseems to me,as are the fragmentsof teethof Mioceneage found withthem. At thesame time, wehave no groundfor assumingthat this crea[Pg 291]turemade either the earlier or the later type of flintimplements found with it, or was capable of suchmanufacture. I see no reason for supposing, whatevermay be the age which we may have to attributeto Eoanthropus, that that creature was capable offlaking flints to a desired shape or of making fireor had developed the use of articulate speech. Noris there any evidence to show that the humanly cutelephant-bone recently found at Piltdown by Mr.Dawson was cut by Eoanthropus. It is more probablethat this was done by a more highly developed creatureof the genus Homo. In fact, the only ground which atpresent justifies the association of Eoanthropus with theHominidæ or human series rather than with the Simiidæor ape series—derived from a common ancestry—is theman-like rather than ape-like size of the brain, which wemust attribute to Eoanthropus on the assumption, whichis at present a reasonable one, that the half-jaw andthe incomplete skull found near each other at Piltdownare parts of the same individual.[13]

IT is becoming more and more certain that thecharacter and quality of the actual things—thenatural products—which we use as food and accept as"diet" are far more important matters in regard tothe preservation of health than had been until recentlysupposed. There has been a tendency, resulting fromsome of the well-ascertained chemical necessities of theanimal body and the equally well-ascertained chemicalcomposition of different articles of food, to suppose thatall that we have to do in regard to diet is to makesure that our food supplies us with so much carbon,hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen, with small quantities ofphosphates, sulphates, and chlorides of potassium, sodium,calcium (lime), and iron, in a "digestible" form, in orderto replace those chemical elements as their combinationsare used up and thrown off as waste by our bodies.The general notions current are little more exact thanthis. It is recognized, it is true, that these elementsmust be combined in certain forms; that it is necessaryto take so much "proteid" (meat, gluten of flour, caseinof cheese and milk, albumen of egg), in which nitrogenis a leading component, foods which are called flesh-formers;and, further, that it is necessary to take otherswhich supply carbon and hydrogen but have no nitrogen,[Pg 293]namely, the hydro-carbons—fat, butter, and oil—and thecarbo-hydrates—sugar and starch—foods which serve asmere fuel or heat-and-force givers. The late proprietorof "Truth," Mr. Henry Labouchere, once said to me thatthe doctors ought to provide us with a sausage containingin their simplest form the necessary proportions of proteidand of heat-giver (fat and sugar), and that we shouldabandon all "sit-down" meals, pulling the necessary sausageout of our pockets without any fuss or interruption toour occupation, and eating a couple of inches or so, threeor four times a day! Experimental feeding of animals(in menageries, etc.), and even of men (in prison, on themarch, and on ships), has sometimes taken very nearlyas simple a form as this.

But we now know (and many, indeed, have recognizedit for many years) that the nutrition of the animalbody, and especially of man's body, is not so simple amatter as this method would suppose. It is necessarynot merely to supply the proteids, fats, starches, andsugars, in correct weight and bulk, but also certainqualities and substances in food, much more subtle anddifficult to estimate precisely, which are required inorder to maintain health. There are elaborate chemicalcompounds present in really "fresh" meats and vegetableswhich seem to be absolutely necessary in order to keepman (and some of the higher animals) in health, andnot only that, but it is ascertained that without themhe cannot be properly nourished, but dies! Thesesubtle, highly complex bodies seem to be present invery small quantities in good fresh food, and yet areabsolutely necessary though so minute in amount. Thefailure of a diet consisting exclusively of tinned meatsand preserved foods is due as much to this as to thenausea set up by it—of which I have written on a[Pg 294]former occasion ("Science from an Easy Chair," SecondSeries, 1913, p. 171, "Food and Cookery").

Let us take an example. A distinguished medicalchemist, Mr. Gowland Hopkins, has recently publishedan account of some experiments in which he fed youngrats on a purely chemical, or "artificial" diet. He gavethem, in proper proportions, chemically purified caseinor curd, starch, sugar, lard, and salts, mixed into a thinpaste with water, of which they had an abundantseparate supply. Young rats fed with abundant naturalfoods of mixed substances, such as cheese, bread, egg,bits of meat and vegetable, and water, grow rapidly;they double their weight in twenty days. The youngrats fed by Mr. Hopkins upon the artificial pure food—thoughsupplied with it and taking it in abundance—didnot increase in weight, and most of them died before thetwentieth day! The curious and important fact wasestablished (by careful and repeated experiment) thatif a teaspoonful of milk was added to the artificial food(less than one twenty-fifth of the solid matter of theirdaily food) the young rats did as well as on "natural"food, doubled their weight in twenty days, and grewup to be strong and healthy rats. It was made clearthat something was obtained by the rats from the smallquantity of milk—something necessary for carrying ontheir nutrition, something the importance of which wasnot its quantity but its peculiar quality, which wasabsent in the artificial diet, but present in the mixeddiet of varied materials which a young rat naturallygets. It seems that some highly elaborated proteidis necessary, if only in minute quantity, to set nutritiongoing, and that this is furnished by the teaspoonful ofmilk. Here, then, we have a case in which the simplerough conclusions as to all that is necessary in diet[Pg 295]being the proper quantities of flesh-forming and heat-givingsubstance, are found to be erroneous.

Take another case—that of the disease known as"scurvy." The word "scurvy" means "afflicted withscurf, mean and dirty." It was applied to personsafflicted by this particular disease, and a Latin medicalword, "Scorbutus," was made from it in the MiddleAges, which survives as "scorbutic" at the present day.Scurvy was formerly very common on board ship, inbeleaguered armies, in prisons, and in other conditionsin which men's food was limited to dried and salted,often badly preserved, meat and biscuit, or stale bread.Its real causation is not even now agreed upon: someholding that it was due to actual poisoning by thebadly preserved food, others that it was due to theabsence of certain elements—only to be obtained fromfresh meat or fresh vegetables. Others think that itwas caused by a bacterium. The victim of scurvybecomes much debilitated, the gums become spongyand ulcerated, and extravasations of blood are foundin all parts of the body, often leading to ulceration.In the old times a whole ship's crew of the Navywould be attacked by it, and half or more died beforea port could be reached and fresh food obtained. Itwas found that the use of fresh vegetables, fresh meat,and the juice of fruits prevented its outbreak, and curedit when once started. For one hundred and fifty yearsit has been held in check by the use of lime-juice as adrink whenever supplies of fresh vegetables and meatrun short. It has now become so unusual a diseasethat there has been no proper study of it in the lightof modern knowledge.

It seems to be essentially the same condition of[Pg 296]malnutrition as that which prevailed in cities and largetracts of country in the Middle Ages and occursat the present day in Norway, caused by a diet ofbadly salted fish and dried meat. This produced ulcerationof the extremities, allowing the leprosy bacillus tomake its way through the broken skin into the tissues,and thus led to the widespread occurrence of leprosy.Whether bacilli of any kind were concerned in the oldvirulent outbreaks of "scurvy" on sailing ships mustremain uncertain, but it is highly probable that they were.In any case, it is certain that the juice of fresh meator of fresh vegetables when taken set going a bettercondition of nutrition in the body, and so acted as apreventive and a cure of scurvy. Some writers supposethat it was the salts, such as citrates and lactates,present in fresh fruits and vegetables which wereeffective in staying the disease; but this has by nomeans been proved, and is not, at the moment, accepted.It is probable that here, as in the case of Mr. Hopkins'srats, it was a quite minute quantity of a readily-destroyedproteid present in fresh meat and vegetables which wasnecessary to keep the chemical processes of nutrition inhealthy activity.

This view is supported by the fact that in recentyears a disease of infants similar to scurvy, and called"infantile scurvy," has been described by Sir ThomasBarlow, and fully recognized. It is a condition of"malnutrition," and is accompanied by "rickets," and isdue in the first place to failure of the mother's milk, andsecondly to the bad quality of the cows' milk substitutedfor it. Owing to the danger of infection by bovinetubercle-bacillus and the great expense of "certified"milk from specially selected cows (eightpence a quart),it is customary to boil the milk given to children.[Pg 297]There seems to be no doubt that good milk, freshlyboiled, is satisfactory. But the constant use of sterilizedmilk and so-called Pasteurized milk, as well as inferior"watered" and more or less stale milk, is frequently thecause of infantile scurvy. Something is destroyed inthe milk by prolonged heating which is necessary forits proper action as a food. The addition to the milkof a small quantity of fresh meat-juice or beetroot-juiceappears to replace this destroyed matter, and to preventmalnutrition and scurvy. And thus the babies arerescued from "infantile scurvy." Here, again, it is aquestion of the presence of a minimal quantity of aneasily destroyed proteid, which is necessary to start thenutritional process and to keep it going.

A very interesting case of the unsuspected influenceof minute quantities of such a "proteid" body (that is,a body like casein and albumen, but higher in thecomplexity of its chemical structure and nearer to thereadily destroyed chemical complexity of living matteritself) has lately been discovered. In the East, especiallyamongst Chinese "coolies" and other people who feedon rice, a very troublesome disease is known, called"Berri-berri." It is chiefly marked by pains all overthe body, lassitude, and debility, and renders its victimsunfit for labour, and so causes great inconvenience toemployers of "Chinese cheap labour." All sorts ofcauses have been suggested for it. But it has now beenfound that it is due to the feeding of the coolies with"polished rice." This is an inferior rice, the grains ofwhich have become (by bad, damp storage) rough andpowdery on the surface. The bad rice grain is purchasedby dealers and shaken up and sifted so as to get rid ofthis dull surface, and is then known as "polished rice."The grain has lost its outer coat. It has been found[Pg 298]that domesticated birds (pigeons and fowls) fed on thispolished rice become ill with symptoms like those of"Berri-berri," and even die. And it has been furtherdiscovered that these same birds can be cured by mixingsome of the separated outer coat of sound rice grainswith the "polished rice." The result of this observationon birds has been applied to human patients sufferingfrom "Berri-berri." It is found that they are rapidlycured by giving them rice "outsides" to eat, and thatthose who are feeding on "polished rice" can be preventedfrom acquiring the disease "Berri-berri" bymixing rice "outsides" with the polished rice. Thestudy of the subject has gone further.

A crystallizable substance allied to proteids has beenseparated by the chemist in quite minute quantity (onepart by weight in 10,000 parts of rice) from the outercoat of rice grain, and is called "vitamine." It is thissubstance which prevents the "whole" rice grain fromcausing "Berri-berri" in men and birds who feed on it,and it has been shown experimentally that it preventsthe development of "Berri-berri" when taken with"polished rice," and cures it when administered to manor bird suffering from that disease. This case calls tomind the popular notion that the indigestion caused byeating a "peeled" raw cucumber can be prevented byeating some of the dark-green "rind" or outside of thecucumber. I do not know that anyone has ever shownthat this is a true doctrine, but it serves as an illustrationof what has been demonstrated in the case of rice grainsand "Berri-berri." Here, then, again we have, in thecase of rice, a minute quantity of a substance naturallypresent in an article of food when taken in its naturalnormal condition, which is destroyed and removed bythe ignorant manipulation of man, although necessary[Pg 299]and essential if that article of food is to serve as healthydiet. In this case (as so many others) it is the attemptof greedy traders to make money by giving to a worthlessspoilt article the appearance of the regular andvaluable article, which has led to disease and disaster.It becomes more and more obvious that the selection ofarticles of food and the whole question of what is ahealthy diet, are not such simple things as is oftensupposed. Here, as in everything we do, we musteither keep to the long-established habits sanctioned byNature, or we must have full and detailed knowledge toguide us in new ways, so that we shall not recklesslyblunder by ignorance into disaster and death. The"feeding" of man and of his herds requires new andcontinued investigation. Old convictions and traditionsin these matters must not be lightly thrust aside by thepossessor of that little knowledge which is a dangerousthing. Meanwhile, for the civilized man the adviceof Pasteur's pupil and successor, the late ProfessorDuclaux, is noteworthy: "Do not eat much, but eatmany things; there is safety in variety, danger inuniformity."

When we reflect on the importance of these smallquantities of easily destroyed constituents in naturalfoods, we begin to appreciate the difficulty of securing apure milk-supply which shall be at the same time anourishing and a healthy one. The sterilizing of milkby heat before it is sold as an article of diet seems to bedesirable in order to destroy the bovine tubercle-bacilluswhich may be there and the other injurious microbes dueto the dirty conditions in which the cow is kept and themilkers keep themselves. The heating of the milk forsome twenty minutes to a temperature below that ofboiling water seems to be the best plan. For infants,[Pg 300]meat-juice or beet-juice may then be added to the milkwhen used, and so "infantile scurvy" be avoided. Consumers(older children and adults) who are taking otherfoods do not need this additional precaution. Milk thus"Pasteurized" is the safest milk.

But there is a very serious precaution to be observedin all cases. In such Pasteurized milk the lactic organismor ferment usually present is destroyed. Consequentlythe milk does not "go sour" by the growth of the lacticferment. This is no advantage, but a serious danger.For the lactic "souring" of milk is not injurious, but, onthe contrary, a safeguard. It actually prevents thegrowth in the milk of other really harmful and deadlygerms. Thus when the lactic germ is not there, butkilled by heat, these other deadly germs get their chance.A fly or other dirt-carrier brings to the sterilized milk"putrefactive" bacteria and such germs (terribly common)as those of "green" or infantile diarrhœa, not to mentionothers. If the milk had been unsterilized and gone sourby the growth of the lactic ferment, these more dangerousgerms could not have flourished in the acid conditionsproduced by it. The danger of Pasteurized milk is thatif kept more than a few hours at the ordinary temperatureof a dwelling-room, and not carefully protected, it maybe a very ready means of communicating infantilediarrhœa and other intestinal disease. It would thereforeseem to be desirable to restore to the Pasteurized milk asmall quantity of a pure culture of lactic germs. Thiscould be easily done. The milk would have had itstubercle-bacilli and others removed by heat, and then,after cooling, it would receive a very few lactic germs as aprotective in case it should be kept by the consumerlong enough to get infected by the bacteria of intestinaldisease. It is imperative that good, nourishing milk, free[Pg 301]from germs of tubercle and of diarrhœa, shall be accessibleto the millions in this country who cannot afford topay eightpence a quart for it. It is a difficult demandto meet. What is said above explains the difficulty,and suggests an attempt to overcome it.

WHEN winter grips our land it is fitting to discourseabout the sweet and refreshing pine treeswhich are especially associated in northern climes withthe celebration of Christmas. The delicious perfumewhich they diffuse is destructive both of microbes andnoxious insects, whilst they are always linked in ourminds with glorious mountain-sides or breezy moorland,or the delightful sand dunes and grey rocks of the sunnyshores of the Mediterranean. The decoration of treeson days of festival and joyful celebration with garlands,lamps, and gifts is an immemorial custom of mankind,and it is probably merely the accident of its being convenientin shape, evergreen, cleanly, and sweet-smellingthat has led to the selection of the common spruce asthe "Christmas tree." It was not until the reign ofQueen Victoria that the custom of bringing a youngspruce fir into the house, growing in its special flowerpot,and then decorating it and making it the centreof a children's festival, became established in England.The 25th of December was celebrated in pre-Christiantimes in Northern Europe as the beginning of the NewYear, and it was only after much opposition adopted bythe Roman Church in the sixth century as a feast dayin celebration of the birth of Christ. The Puritansrejected it as idolatrous, but its observance was restored[Pg 303]by Charles II. In Scotland it is still ignored, and inLatin countries presents (strenæ, or in Frenchlesétrennes) are given on New Year's Day and not onChristmas Day.

The spruce is in our part of the world the commonestof the great series of cone-bearing trees which we speakof as pines and firs. Botanists call this series or"natural order" of trees the Coniferæ, in reference tothe fact that their flowers are cone-shaped growths consistingof scales set in a spiral order around a centralstem. Each scale is more or less overlaid by a secondsmall scale or "bract" (sometimes evanescent), and onthe inner surface of the deeper scale the naked ovulesare carried in the female cones, whilst the pollen-producinggrowths are similarly carried by the smaller andmore delicate male cones. The ovules are exposednakedly, and are, therefore, in a more primitive conditionthan those of ordinary flowering plants, in whichthey are overgrown and enclosed by the modified leaveswhich form the "pistil" or central part of the flower.Hence the conifers are called flowering plants with"naked seeds," or Gymnosperms, whilst the rest ofthe flower-bearing plants are called plants with "coveredseeds," or Angiosperms. The cones are at first green(sometimes purple), and become brown as they ripen.The small loosely-packed male cones, less familiar tomost people than the solid and large seed-bearing cones,are often of a fine crimson colour when young, and whenripe of a bright chestnut brown, but the cones ofpine trees are with few exceptions (the Douglas fir isone) not brilliantly coloured nor set out to attract theeye, as are the flowers of most flowering plants. Thougha young branch carrying its groups of green "needles,"rich brown male cones, silver-white hairs and swelling[Pg 304]seed-cones (Fig. 31) presents a very fine harmony of diversecolours, yet they are not constructed so as to attractthe visits of insects. They do not require the servicesof insects to carry the pollen of the male cones to theovules of the female cones. They produce an enormousamount of pollen, which falls in showers of yellowish-whitedust, and is blown by the wind, far and wide, onto the female cones. Hence it is that though the conesare "flowers," and the pine trees are flowering plants,yet they have none of the beautiful shapes and colourswhich we associate, as a rule, with flowers—shapes andcolours due to the modification in the latter of the leavescalled "petals" which are set with attractive brilliancyaround the stamens and pistil. The conifers are anancient race, dating from geological ages before thechalk, when plants had not "learnt" (as they subsequentlydid) to colour their flowers and to provide nectarso as to ensure the visits of insects and the carriage bythem of their pollen from plant to plant. Even in thegroup of plants with coloured flowers there are treeswhich have abandoned the production of colour in theirflowers, and like the conifers depend upon the wind tocarry their pollen instead of seeking the aid of insects.

The word "pine" is of Latin origin, and belongsproperly to the South of Europe; the word "fir" isTeutonic, and is originally applied to the same trees inthe North of Europe as those to which "pine" is appliedin the South. It is of no use trying to determine whatconifers should rightly be called "firs" or "fir trees,"and which "pines" or "pine trees." There is completeconfusion and indifference nowadays in the use of thosewords, and the botanists have in the past added to theconfusion by their changing and uncertain use of thenames Pinus and Abies. A definite system of naming[Pg 305]
[Pg 306]has now been agreed upon, and we must, in order tounderstand one another in talking about conifers, strictlyaccept and adhere to the names at this moment assignedto them by the common consent of botanical authorities.

The Scots fir is Pinus sylvestris. "Pinus" is thename of a genus of conifers, and includes many speciesbesides sylvestris, our own familiar Scots fir, whichis often now spoken of by the queer, ill-sounding titleof Scotch pine. The Norway spruce or pine, calledoften "common spruce," also "the spruce fir," and"Christmas tree," is the "Picea excelsa" of correctbotany. There are several other species of the genusPicea. A third well-known conifer, the silver fir, iscalled by botanists "Abies pectinata"; there are manyother species of Abies. Although it has such a familiar,sweet-sounding name, the silver fir is not a commontree in England, where it was introduced only threehundred years ago. It will not thrive at Kew Gardens.It is the common forest-making fir of the centre ofFrance and of much of the mountainous country ofSouthern Europe,[14] but it is rarely to be seen in theSwiss mountains (only in certain relatively low-lyingvalleys). The pine forests of those mountains arealmost exclusively formed by the spruce, with the additionof a few Scots firs and larches, and in some partsof the Arolla fir or pine.

The common larch is a fourth common kind of conifer.It is distinguished from other pine trees which flourish inEngland by shedding its needles so as to leave itselfbare in the winter. It is called "Larix Europœa," and isclosely related to the cedars. It was introduced intoEngland in 1629.

Man by his migrations and trading journeys hashad far more to do with the introduction and spreadingof trees, and even of small flowering plants, from onecountry to another, than is commonly suspected. Itappears that of the trees I have already mentioned onlythe Scots fir is really native to these islands. Even theChristmas tree, the common spruce, was introduced fromthe Continent by invading man after we had becomeseparated by the sea from the mainland of Europe.The introduction took place, it seems, in very earlytimes, and there is no record of the event. Peatdeposits have been studied and their age estimated,and it is found that in those of the age of the neolithicmen there are no remains of spruce, but only ofScots firs!

The conifers are remarkable not only for their"cones," but for the needle-like shape which their leavesoften present, whence the latter are spoken of simply as"needles." Conifers are also distinguished by the finearomatic oils which they produce in these needles andin their wood, which serve them as a protection againstbrowsing animals, although to man their perfume isagreeable. In the Tyrol, near Cortina, I remember alittle shop in the pine woods where you could buy theodorous essences extracted from the different speciesof conifers growing around, and each species had itsown special perfume. Besides these aromatic oils, the[Pg 308]conifers produce peculiar resins, such as colophon, amber,kauri gum, Canada balsam, Dammar varnish, and others,and also various qualities of turpentine, tar, and pitch.

I have mentioned the three commonest coniferswhich flourish in England, and have pointed out thatonly one of them—the Pinus sylvestris, or Scots fir—isreally indigenous to our islands. It extends all overEurope, except the extreme south and west, and rightthrough Russian Asia. In the Alps, at the height of3000 to 5000 feet, it is represented by a dwarf recumbentspecies, the Pinus montana, or P. pumilio.There is another really native conifer in Britain whichbelongs to a peculiar family, that of the cypresses.This is the common juniper, called by botanists "Juniperuscommunis," a mere shrub, but still a beautifullittle thing, noticeable for the fine perfume of its leaves,which is used for flavouring "gin," and for its peculiarminute and compact berry-like cones. It has a very widerange, flourishing throughout the north temperate regionof Europe, Asia, and America. There is another juniperwell known in England, namely, the Savin (JuniperusSabina). This is not a native, but was introducedbefore 1548. It has powerful medicinal properties.

When we spend our holidays abroad in Switzerlandor on the Mediterranean shores we come across manyother flourishing, well-established kinds of pines, firs, andcypresses. And we need not leave England in orderto make acquaintance with a very large number whichhave been introduced from abroad into plantations andparks, and grow under favourable circumstances, butcannot be said to have established themselves asnaturalized inhabitants. Among those more ancientlyintroduced is the cedar of Lebanon; of later introduction[Pg 309]we have the Indian cedar or deodar, and the Weymouthpine, Pinus Strobus, a North American tree. Still later averitable crowd of American, Himalayan, Japanese, andChinese pine trees of one kind and another have beenintroduced by dealers and their rich clients, the ownersof park plantations, so that it is now far easier to seein the grounds around great English houses all sorts ofpine trees from remote regions of the earth than theBritish species, or those interesting European kinds whichhave some kind of community with them, and are, atany rate, objects of interest to the naturalist whosefamiliar ground is that of Europe. Most people areutterly perplexed by the number of kinds, and do notknow one from another.

In order to discuss a little further in detail thecommoner kinds of Coniferæ besides those which may beconsidered as truly British, and have been mentionedabove, we must take a glance at the plants related tothe natural order Coniferæ, and then at the divisions ofthat natural order into families and tribes. The Coniferæare an order of the great class of Gymnosperms—one oftwo classes into which the flowering plants or Phanerogamsare divided, the other being (as explained above) theAngiosperms (palms, grasses, lilies, and all our ordinarytrees, shrubs, and flower-bearing herbs). The ordersincluded under "Gymnosperms" are: First, an order, thePterido-spermia, comprising certain remarkable fossil formsconnecting them with ferns; second, the order Cycadeæ,an ancient group, of which only a dozen or so kindssurvive to this day; third, the order Gnetaceæ, includingWellwitch's strange African plant and the little EuropeanEphedras, resembling the plants called horse-tails;fourth, the order of the Gingko trees of Japan, calledalso Salisburiæ, with leaves like those of the maiden's-[Pg 310]hairfern. They and one or two others are survivors ofan important extinct group (the Gingkoaceæ), which weknow by their fossil remains flourished in great numbersbefore the chalk period. Then we have: fifth, theorder Taxaceæ (oryew trees); and, sixth,the order Coniferæ (orcypresses, pines,cedars, and firs). Thefirst four orders,though very interesting,exceptionalplants we will leaveaside, as they do notcome very near to theConiferæ. The orderof yew trees, Taxaceæ,however, does comeclose to the Coniferæ,and sometimes theyare grouped together.

There is one trulynative British exampleof the orderTaxaceæ—the commonyew tree, called"Taxus baccata" bybotanists. Its leavesare "needles," likethose of most conifers, but much flattened, and it has thesombre colour and the general aspect of some of the largerconifers. But its ovule-bearing flower, although it appearswhen young (Fig. 32, b) to be built up by several scale-likeleaves like the cone of a conifer, does not continue in[Pg 311]that form, and ceases to have any resemblance to a "cone."Only the terminal leaf or scale of the group enlargesand develops an ovule, and around this grows an opencup-like protection of the most delicate crimson colour—soft,sweet, and luscious (Fig. 32, c and a). It is as bigas a pea, and is largely eaten by birds and by schoolboys!Yew trees have from time immemorial been planted andcared for in Great Britain, since its wood was formerlygreatly valued for making archers' bows. Wild grovesof yew trees, once existing, have been largely destroyed.Some of the finest are on the chalk hills of Surrey,where the yew flourishes alongside of the juniper. Veryfine yew trees are often found growing, one or twotogether, in village churchyards, where they have beenplanted in remote times, just as cypress trees are to-dayplanted in cemeteries in the South of Europe. Yewtrees with trunks from 30 to 50 feet in girth at 12 feetfrom the ground are known, and it is probable that someare as much as a thousand years old.

Many varieties of the yew tree occur in these islands.A celebrated variety is that in which the branches areall directed upwards rather than horizontally—a frequentform of variation in trees which more usually havespreading, nearly horizontal branches. This variety iscalled "fastigiate" (the "fastigiate" condition of thecommon cypress tree is the one usually cultivated,although there are common varieties with spreadingbranches), and in the case of the fastigiate yew it isaccompanied by a variation in the disposition of theneedles or leaves. Instead of being carried right andleft in a single row on each side of the young branches,as is usual with yews, the needles are set all round thebranch in spiral order (as they are in many conifers).This variety was found growing wild in Co. Fermanagh,[Pg 312]Ireland, nearly two hundred years ago, and a couple of treesof it were then cultivated at Florence Court by the Earlof Enniskillen of that date. Thousands of cuttings havebeen sent from one of these two original trees, which isstill vigorous (I saw it some thirty years ago at FlorenceCourt) all over the world. It is known as the "FlorenceCourt yew," or "Irish yew," and is commonly planted ingardens. But all are from cuttings of this one originaltree, or cuttings of its cuttings, and all, like their parent,are female berry-bearing trees, for the male and femaleflowers grow on separate trees in the yew.

The foliage of the yew contains aromatic and otherchemical products, which render it poisonous to cattle.It is said not to be poisonous when quite fresh, but onlysome time after cutting. This, however, needs confirmation.The yew makes an admirably compact and imperviousscreen when grown as a hedge, and has beenlargely used in gardens for this purpose. In the sixteenthcentury it was the custom to clip yew hedges, or smallyew trees, into all sorts of strange shapes, birds, beasts,and crowns. The name "topiary" is given to thisfanciful work. The popularity of the yew in the gardensof those days is due to the small number of our nativeevergreen shrubs and trees; they are yew, Scots fir,juniper, holly, privet, ivy, butcher's broom, box (a doubtfulnative), spurge-laurel, and mistletoe. Up to the endof the seventeenth century only a few evergreens hadbeen introduced from abroad, viz., spruce pine, silver fir,stone pine, pinaster, the cedar of Lebanon, savin, arborvitæ, evergreen oak, sweet bay, Portugal laurel, laurustine,and arbutus.

I have often wished to have some simple, straight-forwardinformation as to conifers, so as to be able to[Pg 313]know what differences among them are really recognizedby botanists, and what are the correct names of thosewhich one commonly sees. Having gathered that information,I propose to impart it, as far as may beconsistent with brevity, to my readers, though I amafraid that to some it will prove a dull business. Theorder Coniferæ, from which the yew trees (Taxaceæ)are excluded, is divided into four families. These are:(1) the family Abietinæ, which comprises the true pines,and fir trees, and the cedars; (2) the family Araucarianæ,which includes the Monkey puzzle of South Americaand Australia, and the Dammar tree of New Zealand;(3) the family Taxodinæ, which is best known by theso-called Wellingtonia, or Sequoia, but includes severalother genera and species; and (4) the family Cupressinæ,in which the juniper, cypress, and "arbor vitæ," orThuya, are placed.

The form and size of the frequently needle-likeleaves of coniferæ are not of so much importance inindicating the affinities of these plants as one mightexpect, although their grouping either in tufts or in rowsis a matter of significance. In some of them the"needles," or leaves, are long and narrow (Abietinæ);in others they are broad and leaf-like (Araucarianæ);in others they are all or most of them reduced to mereridges or short scales set quite closely to the leaf-bearingbranch (many Cupressinæ and Taxodinæ). It is notpossible to give, without going into botanical minutiæ,the items of structure by which the four families ofconifers are distinguished from one another. It is bestfor the nature-lover who is not an adept in botanicaldetails to think of them as grouped each round onewell-known species. Thus the Abietinæ are groupedround the spruce pine, the Araucarianæ round the[Pg 314]monkey puzzle, the Taxodinæ round the Wellingtonia,and the Cupressinæ round the juniper. In all but thelast family the ovule-bearing scales of the female coneare arranged spiral-wise around a central supportingstem; in Cupressinæ they are few in number, verythick, and opposite to one another so as to form aglobular rather than a cone-shaped body. In all but afew Cupressinæ and Araucarianæ the male and femalecones are carried on the same tree, sometimes onseparate branches, but usually on the same branch.The male and female cones are always distinct, and thefemale much the larger and more enduring.

The Abietinæ are divided into three tribes—(a) thespruces and silver firs (this group corresponding tothe FrenchSapins), (b) the larches and cedars, (c) theScots firs (Pins of the French). Let us take firstthe group of spruces and silver firs. The Norwegianspruce is the type of the genus Picea. It is calledPesse by the French,Fichte by the Germans, and[Pg 315]Picea excelsa by botanists. We may contrast it withthe silver fir Abies pectinata (Sapin des Vosges of theFrench,Silbertanne of the Germans), which we take asthe type of the genus Abies. In many respects thesilver fir looks like the spruce. In both the stem isstraight, reaching a height of 100 to 150 feet,regularly furnished with tiers of branches from theground upwards. The leaves are needles, half an inchto an inch long, which stand out from the branchlets,but in the spruce they are quadrangular, green allover, and arise all round the branch, whilst in thesilver fir they are flat, grooved on the lower surface,which is silver-grey in colour, and they tend to bedisposed right and left in two rows. Each needlehas a single resin canal in the spruce, but has twoin the silver fir, as may be easily seen by cuttingthe needles across the length with a sharp knife(Figs. 33 and 34). Each scale-like ovule-producingleaf which goes to build up the ripe seed-bearing conehas (as in all conifers theoretically) an outer scale,called a "bract," attached to it which is very shortand hidden in the case of the spruce cone, but is longerthan the ovuliferous scale, and very obvious in the[Pg 316]silver fir (Fig. 35). It has a triangular re-curved point,which gives the cones of that species a characteristic[Pg 317]appearance (Fig. 36). The cones of the silver fir(5 to 6 inches long and 2 inches thick) are setupright on the branches, and when they have shed theseeds the scales fall off rapidly and leave the axis bare,whilst the cones of the spruce (about an inch shorter)are pendulous (Fig. 37), and their scales remain in positionafter the seed is shed.

There are many "spruces," other species of the genusPicea, from various parts of Europe, temperate Asia,[Pg 318]and North America, which are cultivated in Englishparks and gardens. Such are the American white andred and black spruces, the Siberian, the Oriental, theServian, and the tiger's-tail Japanese spruce. Thenthere is the beautiful variety of the blue American spruce,Picea pungens. The blue-greycolour of the needles isfrequently obtained as a"variety" in the cultivationof different species of conifers,as also is the yellow,or golden-leaved, condition.

In the genus Abies, associatedwith the silver fir, area whole series of American,Siberian, and Japanesespecies. An interesting oneis the Californian Abiesbracteata, which has thornlikeprocesses on the cone2 inches in length, correspondingto the re-curvedspines on the cone of thesilver fir. It was introducedinto England in 1853, andspecimens are growing inEastnor Park, near Ledbury.The beautifulpinsapo of theSpanish Sierra Nevada also belongs to the genus Abies,and may be seen in some English plantations. TheTsuga firs of Japan and North America are related toAbies, but are now placed in a separate genus (Tsuga),as also is the Douglas fir of North America (Pseudotsuga),which has been extensively planted in Great Britain.[Pg 319]The Douglas fir is readily recognized by the decorativetrifid outer scales or "bracts" of the rather short cone(Fig. 42). When freshly grown these cones have beautifulpurple tints mingled with pale green.

The larches and cedars form the second group orsection of the Abietinæ, distinguished by the fact thatthe needle-like leaves growin tufts of twenty to fortyat the end of short stumpybranchlets or "spurs" (Fig.38). In the larches, whichform the genus Larix, theneedles fall off every autumnand leave the tree bare, theannually-renewed featheryfoliage contrasting, by itsfresh bright green colour, withthe darker hues of the persistentneedles of other conifers.The common larch(Larix Europœa) is a native ofthe mountainous regions ofCentral Europe. The Frenchcall itMéléze. There areHimalayan, Japanese, andNorth American species.The common larch when full-grown is 100 feet and morein height, and has the branches arranged in whorls ofdiminishing length, so as to give the "Christmas-treeshape" so common among coniferæ. It was introducedinto England in the seventeenth century.

The cedars closely resemble the larches, but have theleaves or needles persistent, and the large cones take[Pg 320]two years to ripen, instead of one year, as in all theconifers which I have hitherto mentioned. The cedarsform the genus Cedrus, and three species are distinguished,namely: (1) C. Libani, the cedar ofLebanon; (2) C. Atlantica, the North African cedar ofthe Atlas mountains; and (3) C. deodara, the Himalayancedar or deodar. They are now considered tobe geographical varieties of one species. They differchiefly in the set of the branches and foliage. Thecedar of Lebanon has the trunk forked, and gives riseto large, unequally disposed branches, spreading horizontally;it may have a spread of 100 feet and a height of70 feet. In this country it is often uprooted by the wind,or its branches are broken by a weight of snow, when ithas attained nearly full growth. The deodar cedar ismore Christmas-tree-like in shape, the trunk rarely isforked, and it attains, in its native mountains, a heightof 250 feet. The Atlas cedar is in many respects intermediatein character between C. Libani and C. deodara.The cedar of Lebanon is undoubtedly the most majesticof the conifers grown in English parks. It was introducedin the year 1665. There are specimens growingin this country of which the trunk has a girth of 25 feet.

The third section of the family Abietinæ is formedby the genus Pinus, of which the Scots fir, or Scotchpine (Pinus sylvestris), is the type. The Abietinæ ofthis genus are distinguished by their foliage. Thereare two kinds of leaves—the primitive ones, which arelittle, scale-like, green up-growths closely scattered onthe young branches; and the secondary ones, which arelong needles carried as a tuft or fascicle on a verystumpy branchlet. These tufts of needles are persistent(that is to say, are not shed yearly), and differ fromthose of the larches and cedars in consisting of but few[Pg 321]needles in a tuft, the number being characteristic ofdifferent species, some having five, others three, otherstwo, and the American Pinus monophylla having onlyone. The general shape of these trees is not taperinglike the spruce with unforked trunk, but they usuallyshed the lower branches as growth goes on, and presentin most cases a trunk carrying an umbrella-like expanseof foliage-bearing branches, or several such expanses.The scales which form the cones in the genus Pinus are(with few exceptions, such as the Weymouth pine) not flatand flexible, but are thickened, swollen, and even knob-likeand wooden at the exposed part, which is armedwith a weak or a strong prickle (see Figs. 39, 40, and 41).The cones do not ripen until the end of the second orthird season; they may be, according to species, erect,pendulous, or horizontal, and vary in size in differentspecies. In some they remain closed on the trees foran indefinite period (even fifteen or twenty years), untilopened by the heat of a forest fire or of an exceptionallyhot season.

The Scots fir, Pinus sylvestris (Fig. 31), calledPin deGenève by the French, has a very wide range. It extendseastward and northward from the Sierra Nevada, inSpain, through Europe and Russian Asia; its northernlimit approaches the Arctic circle, its southern limit isformed by the great mountain chains of the Alps,Caucasus, and Altai range of Asia. The beautiful blue-greencolour of its needles, the fine red-brown tint ofits trunk and branches, and the graceful spread of itsfoliage high up on a few great, unequally-grown branchesspringing from its tall, bare trunk, are amongst the mostpicturesque features of English landscape. In thesouthern counties "clumps" of a dozen or score of thesegraceful trees are often to be seen on some isolated hill[Pg 322]topin the moorlands, and are associated with poetictradition and ancient superstition. In the North ofBritain they are more frequent as forest. The Scotsfir is the only pine tree really native in our land. Itis distinguished from several other species of Pinus byhaving the leaves or needles in bundles of two, andhaving relatively small oblong cones (2 to 3 inches long)which are borne near the ends of the branches (Fig. 31).The constituent scales of the cone are only slightlythickened, and the surface knob has no prickle. Thereare two of the common pine trees of the Mediterraneancoast (the Riviera and elsewhere), namely, the Aleppopine (Pinus halepensis) and the so-called Corsican orAustrian pine (Pinus Laricio), which agree in the above-givenpoints with the Scots fir, and are, in fact, difficultto distinguish from it, except by general shape, mode ofgrowth, and the colour of the leaves and stem. Theneedles of the Scots fir are 1½ to 3 inches long, thoseof P. halepensis 2½ to 3½ inches, and those of P. Laricio4 to 6 inches long. The Pyrenæan or Calabrian pineis closely similar to these.

A very important and abundant pine on theMediterranean and Biscay coast of France is the Pinaster(Pinus pinaster), often called the "cluster pine," and bythe FrenchPin des Landes andPin maritime (Fig. 39).It also has its needles, often 6 inches long, in groups oftwo. It is usually a smaller tree than the others, but infavourable localities attains a height of 80 feet. Its conesare twice as long as those of the Scots fir, often, as atBournemouth, 4 and even 5 inches long, and its branchesare slender in proportion to the trunk, the bark coarseand fissured, and its foliage (as is that of all the two-leavedset except the Scots fir) of a yellowish (not bluish) green.It has been found invaluable in holding sandy land from[Pg 323]shifting and breakingup, and isplanted for this purposealong the coastof the Landes andin other parts ofthe world.

A still better-knownpine, which,like those alreadymentioned, has itsneedles in pairs, isthe stone pine(Pinus pinea), calledby the FrenchPinde parasol and bythe ItaliansPino apinocchi. This finetree (usually biggerthan the Pinaster)has been largelyplanted in Italy onaccount of its picturesqueappearance.This is thetree which one seesso often in Turner'slandscapes. Theneedles are 5 to 6inches long, and thecones are very largeand almost spherical,being often 5inches long and 4[Pg 324]inches in diameter. The cones do not mature untilthe third year. The scales are very large and solid,which renders it difficult to extract the nut-like seeds,which are roasted and eaten. Hence the name stone-pine.The spreading, parasol-like shape of the stone-pineis characteristic. A few specimens are to be seenin cultivation in this country. In order to distinguishPinus sylvestris from P. halepensis, laricio, pinaster, andpinea, the deep blue-green colour of the foliage of thefirst is sufficient, together with the shortness of itsneedles. To distinguish the others among themselves(except in the case of well-grown typical examples) it isnecessary to examine the cones closely, and often whenone comes upon these trees they are, on account of theseason, devoid of these distinguishing products.

Wide tracts of sandy moorland in the south ofEngland have been in the last century extensivelyplanted with various species of Pinus, and afford thenaturalist an interesting opportunity for comparing onewith another. At Bournemouth the plantations arechiefly of the Austrian variety of Pinus Laricio,[15] the ScotsP. sylvestris, and the Mediterranean Pinaster. The latteris especially luxuriant there. Here and there I havefound other species at Bournemouth. A remarkable onewith three needles in a group is the Californian Pinusinsignis (Fig. 40), known as the Monterey pine. It hasa very large cone which is curiously one-sided in growth,the seed-scales on the side facing away from thesupporting branch being larger than those on theopposite face. Another interesting species to be metwith there is the Pinus muricata, also a Californian sea-coastspecies. The cones of this species are about 3[Pg 325]
[Pg 326]inches long and half that in breadth. In all the speciesof Pinus the outer end of the scales which build up thecone is swollen and squeezed compactly by its fellows,forming a hard shield-like surface of a lozenge shape, inthe middle of which is a knob or process (see Figs.31,39, and 40). Usually this is short and not very sharp, butin Pinus muricata the cone is very hard and solid and theknob is elongated into a spine of nearly one-third of an inchlong (Fig. 41). Theses pines are so hard and sharp thatthey render it impossible to grasp the cone with the hand inorder to pluck it. The cones remain on the tree for fifteenyears or more, and may be seen in close-set clusters surroundingquite old branches. The cones of Pinus rigida—oneof the American pitch-pines—are similarly protectedby spines. Pinus rigida is easily distinguished by its[Pg 327]having its needles in bundles of three from Pinusmuricata, which has the more usual arrangement of apair of needles to each bundle. The Douglas fir is also[Pg 328]to be found here and there in the gardens and parksof Bournemouth. Its cones (Fig. 42) are remarkable fortheir beautiful purple and pale green tints when young,and for the long trifid bract on the outside of each scale,similar to but larger than those on the cone-scales ofthe silver fir, Abies pectinata (Fig. 35), and not bentbackwards as they are.

There are two pine trees of the genus Pinus whichone comes across, either in English plantations or onthe Continent, and are readily distinguished by havingthe leaves (needles) in bundles of five. The first ofthese is the Arolla pine—Pinus Cembra (French,cembrot)—a pine tree much like the Scots fir in generalappearance, but distinguishable from it, not only by thetufts of five needles in a bunch instead of two, but alsoby the erect cones which are nearly as broad as long(3 in. by 2 in.). It is essentially a Siberian tree, andgrows in Europe only on the Carpathian Mountains andthe Alps. I have seen it in the neighbourhood of theRhone Valley in Switzerland, but it is yearly becomingrarer owing to its destruction at the great heights(4000 to 6000 feet), where it formerly flourished, by theherdsmen in order to extend the pasturage for theirmilk industry. The other pine with five leaves in a tuft,which one may often see, is the Weymouth pine—PinusStrobus. It is a native of the New England States andCanada, where it is known as the white pine, and isgreatly valued as a timber tree. It was introduced andplanted in England by Lord Weymouth at the beginningof the eighteenth century, and is a very handsome tree,growing to 120 feet in height, with a bluish-green colourof the foliage like that of the Scots fir. The needlesare 3 to 4 inches long, and the cones pendulous, 5 to6 inches long and blunt. Another pine of the five-leaved[Pg 329]group is to be seen in gardens in the South of Europe(for instance at Baveno on the Lago Maggiore), whereit is introduced from Mexico. This is the PinusMontezumæ, which has extraordinarily long tufts ofneedles of a blue-green colour, each needle from 7 to10 inches long, arranged as radiating or fan-like growthsof great beauty and striking appearance. The Bohtanpine of the Himalayas (Pinus excelsa—not to be confusedwith Picea excelsa, the spruce) is also a five-leavedspecies. Several specimens of it are flourishing in KewGardens.

A few lines must be given to the Araucarianæ,Taxodinæ, and Cupressinæ. The Araucarianæ include,besides the Chilian monkey puzzle, an Australian species,and the New Zealand Dammar pine Agathis, whichproduces the amber-like Kauri gum. The leaves of themonkey puzzle are like the scales of a spruce cone inshape, and the ordinary branches are like elongatedgreen spruce-cones, whilst the seed-cones have needle-likescales. The next family, the Taxodinæ, are in manyrespects intermediate in character, between the Abietinæ(true pines, cedars, and firs) and the Cupressinæ (cypressesand junipers). They have very small, lance-shapedleaves, closely packed, so as to overlap one another—asin the celebrated Wellingtonia or American Big-tree—andsmall cones, with hard, knob-like scales, resemblingthose of the most woody-coned Pinus, but few in number.The American Big-tree (native on the western slopesof the Californian Sierra Nevada) is named "Sequoiagigantea" by the botanists. It was introduced intoEngland about sixty years ago. The Red-wood, of thePacific coast of the United States, is another species ofSequoia (S. sempervirens), and it appears that a specimenof it has been measured as reaching 340 feet in height;[Pg 330]whilst no living specimen of the S. gigantea has beendefinitely measured of more than 325 feet in height.There are several other large exotic, pine-like trees, whichare placed in the Taxodinæ. The extraordinary andinteresting tree called the Japanese umbrella pine(Sciadopitys verticillata) is associated with the Sequoiasby some botanists; but it is in important respects unlikeany other conifer. It has a very peculiar foliage, namely,rod-like leaflets, twenty to thirty in number, arrangedin circlets or whorls like the spokes or ribs of an umbrella.The curious thing is that these are not "leaves," but,according to botanists, are leaf-like shoots or branchlets!It may be seen growing in Kew Gardens, where it wasintroduced thirty years ago.

The last family of the Coniferæ is the Cupressinæ, sonamed after the great and beautiful cypress tree, whichis said to have given its name to the island of Cyprus,which in turn gives its name to cupreous metal, or copper.The cypress tree similarly gives its name to "coffers"and "coffins" made of its wood, as the Buxus or box-treehas given its name to a "box." The cypress is theGopher tree of the Hebrews. The family includes manyspecies of junipers (Juniperus) and the American and JapaneseArbor vitæ (Thuya) and its allies. In the commoncypress (Cupressus sempervirens) the leaves are singular,small, scale-like growths, which are flattened on to thedelicate branchlets which bear them. In other trees of thefamily both such leaves and also upstanding lancet-likeleaves are present. The main character is the small sizeand globular shape of the cones and the very few swollenscales, more like solid wedges adherent to one another,which build them up. These wedge-like scales are notarranged in whorls, but are opposite to one another on theshort axis or stem of the cone. The common juniper[Pg 331](Juniperus communis), thegénévrier of the French, growsabundantly on the chalk downs of the South of England,where it appears as a small bush, not exceeding 5 feet inheight, but in favourable conditions reaches a height of20 feet. The cones of the juniper are numerous, andeach consists of only three ovuliferous scales, and is onlyone-fifth of an inch in diameter when ripe, and of ablackish violet colour.

At the close of this compressed survey of the orderConiferæ, let me put the chief forms and groups at whichwe have looked in a tabular form, thus:

MOST people do not know even of the existence intheir own bodies of a fluid called "the lymph," andof a system of vessels and spaces containing it whichramify like the blood-vessels into every part of the body.This arises from the fact that the lymph is translucentand colourless. You can see the finest blood-vesselswhen the body of a dead rat, sheep, or man is opened,because they are filled with the beautiful red blood, andappear as a rich, coloured network. But the lymphand the lymph-vessels escape notice, and, indeed, areinvisible except the largest, because they are colourless.They remained unknown to anatomists long after arteriesand veins, and the fine networks of hair-like vesselsor capillaries connecting them, were thoroughly wellstudied. It is, when one thinks of it, a very noteworthyfact, tending to convince us of the readiness with whichwe may (in the absence of careful examination andattention) overlook the most weighty things, that hereis a great system of vessels and spaces in the humanbody and in that of other animals, carrying on mostimportant operations in our daily life, and yet most ofus have never seen any evidence of its existence, andnever hold it in our mind's eye as part of the greatmechanism of the animal body.

The lymph is a clear, colourless fluid, with "corpuscles"—minutenucleated cells or particles of protoplasm—floatingin it. The liquid part is closelysimilar in its properties and chemical constitution to theliquid part of the blood. It, indeed, consists largely ofthe liquid part of the blood which exudes from thefinest hair-like blood-vessels or capillaries as theytraverse the various tissues, and it is the chief businessof the "lymphatics" or lymph-holding vessels to returnthis exuded liquid to the blood system, which they doby joining—like the rivulets of a river system—to formtwo large trunks which open into the great blood-holdingveins at the region where they approach the heart. Thetotal amount of lymph in the lymphatic system is difficultto estimate, but it is larger in quantity than the blood inthe entire blood-vascular system. A large number ofthe delicate vessels of the lymphatic system take theirorigin just below the lining layer of the intestine, andramify through the transparent membrane, which holdsthe coils of intestine together, and is called the mesentery.The fatty or oily materials of food pass through thelining "cells" of the intestinal wall into these "lacteal"or milky lymphatics, and consequently in an animalkilled and examined after a meal, the fluid in themhas a milky appearance, and renders this kind of"lymphatics" visible.

They were for this reason the first to be detected, andwere known even in ancient times to anatomists. Themilky fluid in them was called "the chyle." Its milkyappearance is due to the same cause as the white opaqueappearance of milk, namely, to the presence of animmense number of excessively small particles of oil(fat) and a certain proportion of larger globules of thesame nature. It was thus not difficult for the old[Pg 334]anatomists to trace the fine branches of the lactealsuniting branch to branch, and at last forming a largetrunk—called the thoracic duct—abouta quarter of an inch thick, which runsup the inner face of the backbone to theneck, where it joins the great left subclavianvein, and pours its contents intothe blood-stream which is there nearingthe heart. A small trunk formed bythe union of lymphatic vessels from theright side of the head and neck andthe right upper limbopens into the right subclavianvein. It tooksome time to discoverthis smaller trunk, sinceit is not brought toview by milky contents.Gradually it was madeout that there are innumerabletransparentbranches opening into thethoracic duct from thewhole of the body, besidesthe milky-lookinglacteals: branches whichbring "limpid" clear fluid,or "lymph," from all theviscera, from the muscles,and from the deeperlayers of the skin in everyregion of the body, evenfrom the toes, fingers, andtongue tip. In fact, wherever the blood-vessels takeblood there are also vessels of the lymphatic system[Pg 335]bringing back to the heart the liquid exudation whichescapes into the tissues from the finest blood-vessels(Fig. 43).

Whilst we distinguish in an animal body various"tissues" which have special properties and activities,and can be dissected out and delimited—as we coulddissect and distinguish the "tissues" (flannel, silk,leather, whalebone, wadding, gold-thread, etc.) makingup an elaborate padded, stiffened brocaded, lined, anddecorated costume—we find that, unlike what is usual ina man-made costume, all the parts of an animal body(viscera, and their lobes and sub-divisions, the blood-vessels,nerves, muscles, bones, etc.), are covered andseparated from one another, and, at the same time, heldtogether by a ubiquitous soft, spongy tissue, consistingof delicate threads and bands, enclosing spaces—someexcessively minute and narrow, others larger—in whichis a liquid. This is the great packing tissue of thebody, and is called "the connective tissue." Its threadsand bands have delicate, usually flat nucleated corpuscles(so-called "cells") of transparent protoplasm restingupon them and bathed by the liquid in the fine spaces.The threads and bands are, indeed, the product of theprotoplasmic cells, built or "spun" by them, laid downby them as a snail leaves a slimy smear behind it asit crawls. It is not difficult to cut out transparentpieces of this "connective tissue" from a recently killedanimal and to examine it with a very high power ofthe microscope. You may then see the living protoplasmiccorpuscles slowly "streaming" and changingshape, and sometimes dividing (one into two) so as toform new corpuscles.

I made my first acquaintance with them when I was[Pg 336]a student at Vienna with the great microscopist Stricker.We used the glass-clear connective tissue which formsthe "cornea" of the eye, cut from a freshly killed frog.In those days the part taken by these cells in inflammationwas being discovered, the name "phagocyte" hadnot been invented, the part played by them and bybacteria in disease and the suppuration of wounds wasunknown, and I had the privilege of introducing Lister'searliest researches on aseptic surgery and on the coagulationof the blood to the notice of my friend andteacher.

This ubiquitous "connective tissue" underlying theskin, pushing its way into and around every part ofevery structure in the body, is the "source"—thereservoir, as it were—from which the lymph stream andthe finest lymphatic vessels take their origin. Thequestion may very naturally be asked, "How is it thatthe lymph flows along the channels provided by thetransparent lymph vessels and is poured through 'thethoracic duct' into the great vein near the heart?"If we inject a suitable coloured fluid by means of aneedle-pointed syringe into any mass of connective tissue,we can see the fluid pass into the numerous lymphvessels previously invisible, and if we inject into them aweak solution of silver nitrate we can, subsequently by aidof the microscope, make out the structure of the walls ofthe lymphatics and the lining pavement cells which becomestained of a brown colour by the silver when exposedto light. But there is no muscular envelope, nothinglike "a lymph-heart" in mammals, to drive the lymphalong. There are valves or flexible flaps in the walls ofthe lymph-vessels, as there are in the veins, and thelymph is driven to the heart by the intermittent pressureupon these valved tubes, caused by the movements of[Pg 337]the muscles and of the body generally. The valves,like those of the veins, prevent the flow of the lymphbackwards, but allow it to pass forward towards theheart. This is shown by the examination of a narcotizedmammal (killed immediately after the examination hasbeen made). A glass tube is placed in the thoracicduct, and about a dozen drops of lymph (which would havebeen delivered into the great vein) pass from it in aminute. If, however, the animal's legs are moved, asthough in running, or if "massage" is applied to thelimbs—the pressure being directed from the extremitiestowards the heart—then a greatly increased flow oflymph is observed, as much as sixty drops in a minute!This is the chief explanation of the value to our healthof exercise, and also of the importance of "massage" asa treatment in disease. Either exercise or massageentirely revolutionizes the rate of flow of the lymph,quickening it so greatly that the physiological effect onthe general chemical processes going on in the bodycannot fail to be most important.

Curiously enough, whilst mammals have to dependentirely on pressure and exercise for anything but theslowest flow of the lymph, the cold-blooded vertebrates,fish, amphibia and reptiles (and even some birds), haveremarkable, rhythmically contracting, muscular sacs,which pump the lymph from large lymph-vessels intolarge veins, and are called "lymphatic hearts." Theeel and other fish have them in the tail, but they arebest seen in the common frog. There is an anteriorpair, one under each shoulder-blade, and another pair,one on each hip. Each opens at one end into a large"collecting" lymph-vessel, and at the other end into alarge vein. They "beat" like a heart, but do not keeptime with one another. Their muscular walls are formed[Pg 338]by what is called "striated" muscular tissue (as arethose of the blood-heart), and they are under the controlof branches of the spinal nerves. The movement of thehinder pair in a frog can be seen through the skin.

In man and all vertebrate animals the intestines,stomach and liver, heart and lungs (or swim-bladder) lieloose, except for a fibrous band of attachment, in a greatcavity (often divided into two or more chambers), whichthey fit fairly closely. The small space between themand the walls of the cavity is occupied by a liquid.This is lymph, and the great cavity is a lymph-space.When this cavity is in its primitive form it is called thebody cavity, or "cœlom." In man and mammals it isdivided into four chief chambers—the peritoneal cavity(in which the stomach, intestine, and liver are looselyattached and have a certain mobility), the right pleuraland left pleural cavity (one for each lung), and thepericardial cavity (for the heart). These great chambersare part of the lymph-system, and so is the lymph-holdingspace around and within the brain and spinalcord, and so are the great spaces beneath the frog'sskin.

If we look at the structure of an earth-worm or ofone of the graceful marine worms (Nereis or Arenicola),we gain a good deal of light as to the nature of thelymphatic system of Vertebrates. Suppose you havekilled a large earth-worm with chloroform! Then pin itout on a cork plate, and open it by a cut along the backwith a fine pair of scissors. The point of your scissorspasses through the muscular body-wall of the worm intoa great chamber filled with a clear liquid. This chamberis the "cœlom," and is the same structure as the pleuraland peritoneal chambers of the Vertebrate. But it holds[Pg 339](proportionately) more liquid. The liquid is "lymph,"like that of the Vertebrate, and has numerous protoplasmiccells floating in it. There is comparatively littleconnective tissue in the earth-worm. The cœlom is freeand unblocked—the great viscera lie in it. There aresome delicate, transparent bands of connective tissue, butnot much nor bulky. The wall of the cœlom itself islined with connective tissue, and if that tissue grew greatlyin bulk, and bound all the organs and muscles together, itwould reduce the large cavity, filling it up with spongytissue in the small interstices of which there wouldbe lymph. And so we should get a lymph systemresembling that of Vertebrates, instead of one largechamber.

But what about the opening of the lymphatics intothe blood-vessels? This is one of the interesting differencesbetween the earth-worm and the Vertebrate. Theearthworm and many marine worms have a beautifulsystem of vessels, containing a bright red blood, andforming true capillaries, connecting arteries and veins.The heart is a long, rhythmically beating tube, extendingalong the whole length of the animal just above theintestine. There is no opening into it of the lymph-cavity.It is purely a respiratory blood-system, pumpingits fluid, coloured red by oxygen-seizing hæmoglobininto every part of the body. It passes along the finecapillaries of the skin, where it seizes oxygen from theoutside air or water and carries it to all the tissues.The fact is that the red respiratory element of the bloodwhich we call the "hæma" or hæmal portion (theGreek word for red blood is αἷμα) is here kept separatefrom the nourishing and elaborating element, the lymphor lymphatic portion. So that we should, to be explicit,describe the blood of a vertebrate as "hæmolymph," a[Pg 340]conjunction of hæma and lymph, which in the moreprimitive earth-worm and sea-worm have never effecteda junction! In some closely allied marine worms, however,a junction of these two is effected in another way.We know that in the Vertebrates the red blood corpusclesare formed by detached bits of the same tissue, whichbecomes converted into capillaries, the finest blood-vessels.Now in several marine Chætopods or bristle-footedworms (Glycera, Capitella, etc.) the tissue whichshould form the blood-vascular system and its red liquidblood, changes its mode of growth; it never forms blood-vesselsat all, but divides into free red (hæmoglobinous)cells or red blood corpuscles, which float in the lymph ofthe cœlom. There is no blood-vascular system producedin these worms, but the "cells" of the tissue which wouldin other worms form blood-vessels break up into redcorpuscles, which, mixing with the lymph, bring it intothe condition of "hæmolymph," identical with the bloodof Vertebrates!

In the molluscs, snails, whelks, oysters, clams, andcuttle-fishes there is a further, variation. The same twofluids and two systems of spaces are present as in theearth-worm, but the cœlomic space and fluid have beennearly blocked up and obliterated by the swelling-up andgreat size of the proper hæmal vessels. Only in rarecases is the blood of molluscs coloured red by hæmoglobin,usually it is of a pale blue colour. There is stillleft a pericardial cœlom, a space around the heart,and from this some fine lymph-holding vessels ramifyamongst the tissues, but the chief spaces in the bodyare dilated parts of the true hæmal system. In Insectsand Crustacea (say cockroach and lobster) this process iscarried still further. The great cœlom, so well developedin the Chætopod worms, and the Sea-urchins and[Pg 341]Star-fishes, and retaining quite a large development alsoin the Vertebrates, is nowhere to be found. The swollenblood-vessels have squeezed it out of existence, exceptfor certain sack-like remnants which enclose separatelythe ovaries, and the testes, and the kidneys, and haveeach its opening to the exterior conveying the productsof those important organs to the outer world. Thus wegain a brief insight into the true history of the lymphaticsystem and its vicissitudes in the lower animals andin man.

RED, crimson, scarlet, hot, the river of life, thecarrier of all that is good and all that is badby its myriad streams through our bodies; the rarest,most precious, most gorgeous of fluids; the daughter ofthe salt ocean, finer and more worshipful even than thewaters of the great mother, the sea; the badge of horrorand of accursed cruelty, yet also the emblem of nobility,of generosity, of all that is near and dear, of all that issplendid and beautiful; the blush of modesty and theflag of rage; the giver of coral lips and glowing cheeksto youth and health, and no less of the ruddy nosewhich women hide with powder and men bravely bearwithout concealment! Such is the blood, and it is nowonder that the mere sight of it has always had anoverpowering fascination for mankind.

The wild people of the Solomon Islands, when theysee a drop of blood flowing from an accidental scratchof hand or foot, say, "I must go home; some danger isat hand; the blood has come to tell me!" Sorcerersand witches of all times have endeavoured to procurea few drops of the blood of their intended victims inorder to "work spells" upon the precious fluid, and so,according to the theory of "contagious magic," upon theperson from which it came. In Italy to-day, as in this[Pg 343]country a few hundred years ago, when some one's nosebleeds, a Latin hymn to the blood (beautiful in its conception)begging it to stay its flow, as it did when thesoldier's spear pierced the side of the crucified Christ, issung. In a village in the hills near Naples I was takenwith an attack of nose-bleeding, and bathed my headwith cold water from a pretty fountain which suppliedthe people with its pure stream. The women broughthandsome old brass basins and embroidered cloths ofthe most delicate linen for my use. I heard a strangechanting behind my back as I stooped over the water,and when the bleeding had ceased I found that an oldman of the village had placed two straws in the formof the cross on my shoulders, and was reciting the ancientLatin hymn to my overflowing blood! I obtained afterwardsfrom a friend the words of the same hymn as usedin long-ago days in English villages.

One primitive race if not others, namely, the Australians,take a very prosaic and business-like view of theblood. They use it as an adhesive—a sort of liquidpaste or gum, always ready to hand! In order tofasten feathers or other decoration to a pole, theAustralian "black fellow," without wincing or hesitation,and as a matter of course, makes a cut (witha sharp piece of stone or glass) in his own arm, anduses the convenient blood. It also serves them as paint,as it has served many a chieftain of European race forsigning his name, and many a prisoner for writing inthe absence of ink.

There is for some people a fascination in the sight ofblood which must not be mistaken for cruelty, althoughit is accompanied by dangerous and undesirable emotion.Just as other emotion-producing experiences—such as[Pg 344]the sight or hearing of torture, of hairbreadth escapes,and of ghosts—produces uncontrollable repulsion andhorror in some people, and to others (or even to thesame people when in another state of health or mentalbalance) actually gives a pleasurable sensation (exquisiteshudderings, as the French say), so does the sight ofblood or even the mere hearing of the word "blood" actdifferently on different people. Every one who haswitnessed a Spanish bull-fight knows that it is not anydesire for, or enjoyment of, the sight of pain whichexcites the crowded mass of spectators. There is no"cruelty," in the proper sense, in their state of mind, nopleasure in witnessing pain—a thing which, terrible as itis to think of, yet does exist naturally in mankind, andhas to be, and is, repressed and absolutely got rid of inthe course of the humanizing education of civilized mankind.The spectators of the Spanish bull-fight areprimarily under the spell or fascination of the sight ofblood, and in a less degree they are attracted by thewonderful exhibition of skill and strength on the partof the matador and his troop. The crowd excitedlyacclaims the first drops of blood which the splendid bullis made to shed. They buy, after he has been killed, thepaper-winged darts smeared with his blood. The colour,the mystery, and the magnificence of blood produces inthem a violent emotion. It is to them a delight, butonly a single step separates their delight from pain andactual physical distress. The most absolutely nauseatingsmells are very nearly identical with delightful perfumes,and we all know how readily a taste may be acquiredconverting the former into the latter—as in the case ofthe (to most people) foul-smelling East Indian fruit, thedurian, and of rotten cheese and "high" game. Wealso know that a sudden revulsion of "feeling" mayoccur in regard to hitherto approved smells and flavours,[Pg 345]so that headache, vomiting, and even fainting may beproduced by a smell or flavour which was previouslyfound a favourite beyond all others.

So it is with this great and mysterious thing—theblood. The sight of it nearly always produces emotionand excitement, but if these emotions are not accompaniedby an unreasoning joy and delight, they may resultin equally unreasoning and uncontrollable disgust, horror,and often a sudden and unaccountable collapse. Sometime ago in a popular lecture on the colouring matter ofthe blood I had no sooner said the word "blood" than agentleman in the front row fainted and had to be carriedout. Men are more susceptible to this curious effect ofthe sight or thought of blood than women. Often theydo not know that they are so, and are as astonished andperplexed by the sudden fainting as are onlookers andas are, for the matter of that, physiologists and psychologists.It is a common experience of medical menwho vaccinate adults, when there is a scare about smallpox,that at the sight of a tiny drop of blood caused byscratching the arm with a lancet, men frequently faint,whilst women rarely do so. Great, burly, red-coatedsoldiers, and also athletic schoolboys, have been especiallynoted as fainting when vaccinated. Maid-servantsrarely faint under this absurdly trivial ordeal, whilst thebutler and the valet much more frequently do so. Hereis, indeed, a curious and unexpected difference betweenmen and women which I commend to the considerationof those who are discussing the desirability of admittingwomen to the parliamentary franchise. It is an unexplainedinstance of the influence of the mind on thebody, and until it is better understood, one must notconclude that the difference is a proof of superior fitnessfor participation in political affairs.

I trust that none of my readers may suddenly fainton reading this page, but should be glad to hear of anyexperience of the kind. It is readily understood whenthe profound impression produced by the colour ofman's blood is considered, that the great inquirerAristotle and a good many uninquiring people of thepresent day should overlook the fact that the loweranimals have blood. The insects, crustaceans, mussels,clams, snails, and cuttle-fish, and many worms have trueblood and a heart and blood-vessels, but in most of themthe blood is colourless, or of a very pale blue tint. Hence,like the lymph described in the preceding chapter, itescapes attention, and Aristotle called them all "blood-lessanimals." The fact is, however, that not only dothey possess colourless or pale blue blood, but that thebristle-footed worms (earth-worms and river-worms andmarine Annelids) and even the leeches possess brightred blood contained in a complete branching networkof blood-vessels, whilst here and there among the otherwisecolourless-blooded molluscs and crustaceans andinsects we find isolated instances of the possession ofred blood. Thus the flat-coiled pond-snail, Planorbis,has bright red blood, so have one or two bivalve clams,so, too, has an insect larva (known to boys as a blood-worm)that of the midge (Chironomus), so, too, havesome small fresh-water shrimps, and also a single speciesof star-fish and one kind of sea cucumber!

I explained in the previous chapter that the blood ofthe vertebrates may well be called hæmolymph, since inthem the colourless, slightly opalescent fluid called"lymph" is continually poured through certain openingsinto the red blood, and mixed with it. In the earth-wormand other lower animals the red-coloured blood, orits equivalent—the "hæma," as distinguished from the[Pg 347]"lymph"—is held in a closed system of vessels, anddoes not receive any of the lymph. When examinedwith the microscope, the blood, or hæmolymph, of manis found to consist of an albuminous, slightly stickyliquid, in which float an immense number of "corpuscles"—minutebodies, some rounded, some irregular, somebun-like, and some spherical. The most abundant ofthese are the "red corpuscles," of the shape of buns,slightly depressed on each surface. Three thousand twohundred of them could be placed lying flat side by sidealong the space of a measured inch. They appear palegreenish-yellow in colour under the microscope, but inquantity, lying one over the other, they allow only redand some blue light to pass through them, and so havea fine red colour. They consist of a small quantity ofalbuminous matter and water, and of a large proportionof a red-coloured, crystallizable, chemical substance dissolvedin them, called hæmoglobin, or blood-red. It isthis hæmoglobin which performs one of the most importantduties of the blood, since it combines with theoxygen of the inspired air when the corpuscles areflowing through the fine vessels of the lungs, andcarries it to the tissues in every part of thebody, which greedily take the oxygen from the redcorpuscles.

The red corpuscles of man's blood and that of thehairy suckling animals—the mammals—are not nucleatedcells, but are regularly formed and renewed as they dailywear out, as fragments of larger mother-cells, whichbreak up into these corpuscles, in the marrow of thebones, and some other situations where they are found.In all other vertebrates the red blood corpuscles have akernel, or dense nucleus, and are complete "cells,"usually oval, smooth and flattened in shape—a curious[Pg 348]difference not easily accounted for. There are in a pintof the blood of an average man about two billions ofthese red corpuscles, and the amount of blood in thebody is about one-twentieth of the total weight of thebody—say, in a man weighing 160 lb., about 8 lb. orpints of blood. The clear, colourless lymph existing inall the lymph spaces of the body is probably abouttwelve pints. In many animals the red corpuscles aremuch less numerous than in man; for instance, a drop ofhuman blood contains a thousand times as many redcorpuscles as does an equal-sized drop of frog's blood.It is true that the frog's red corpuscles are a good dealbigger than those of man, but the result is that thehuman blood is some hundreds of times richer in hæmoglobinthan the frog's, and has a proportionately greaterpower of carrying oxygen from the lungs to the tissues,and keeping up the slow, burning process, or oxidation,upon which the activity of the body, as well as its warmth,depend. The body depends upon its supply of oxygenas a steam-engine depends upon the oxygen of the air,which keeps its coal-fire burning.

The pace of the blood-stream which is produced bythe force-pump action of the contractions or beats of theheart is tremendous. It courses along at the rate of teninches in a second in the big arteries and veins, and ithas been carefully ascertained by experiment that aheartful of blood (which in a big man is about half apint for each half or "side" of the heart)—or let usspeak of a single corpuscle—is driven out of the heartthrough the great artery or aorta to the most remoteparts of the body, and is back again at the heart, afterrunning through endless branches of arteries, smallestcapillaries, and thence into fine veins, bigger veins, andthe biggest vein, in twenty to thirty seconds, the time[Pg 349]occupied by twenty-five to thirty heart-beats. The wallsof the arteries are firm, though elastic, and it is no wonder,with this tremendous pressure and pace on the liquidwithin, that when an artery is cut the blood spurts out toa distance of several feet.

The colourless liquid of the blood contains, besidesthe red corpuscles floating in it, others brought to it inthe lymph and derived from various connective-tissuespaces and special nodules or "glands." They are outnumberedby the red corpuscles in the proportion of fivehundred to one. They are colourless, and bigger thanthe red corpuscles. Most of them continually changetheir shape, and consist of active, moving protoplasm.These are the "phagocytes," which, besides actingchemically upon the constituents of the blood-liquid,take into their substance (as does the amœba or proteus-animalcule)and digest and destroy all foreign or deadparticles, and the bacteria which may find their way intoit. They pass out, forcing their way through the excessivelythin walls of the finest capillaries—blood-vesselsnot wide enough to admit two of them side byside—and enter, to the number of thousands, the tissueswhich have been wounded or poisoned by bacteria, tocarry on their all-important protective "scavenger" or"police-constable" work.

Inflammation is the slowing of the blood-stream bydilatation of the vessels at an injured spot, in order toallow the phagocytes to make their way out of the blood-streaminto the tissues, and so get to close quarters withthe enemy. There are other excessively minute dustlikeparticles called "platelets," which are sometimes veryabundant in the liquid of the blood. Besides the dutiesof oxygen-carrying and scavengering the blood has other[Pg 350]great and vitally important business. It has to distributenutriment, to pick up waste oxidized chemical productsand get rid of them, and to distribute and equalize theheat which it carries around the body like a perfect hot-waterwarming installation.

MOST people are familiar with the fact that fastingin the Christian Church has from early times beenof two degrees—one in which no flesh of beast or birdor fish, not even eggs, not even milk, may be consumed,and a less severe degree in which the eating of fish isallowed. It is not at first sight clear why the eating offish—and even of birds such as the Barnacle goose andthe Sooty duck, supposed to be produced from fish—hasbeen permitted by the Christian Church, since theflesh of fish is highly nourishing and an excellent substitutefor the meat of beasts and birds, and a man fedupon it is far from suffering the effects of true "fasting."Many races and out-of-the-way people live entirely uponvegetables and a little fish, and do very well on that diet.

It has been proved by some learned inquirers thatthere was a special significance about the permission bythe early Christians of a fish diet during so-called"fasting." Real and complete fasting, abstention fromall food, for a day or even a week, was and still ispractised by some Eastern peoples as a religious exercise.It is a matter of fact that an ecstatic condition of mindis favoured by complete fasting, and conditions favourableto illusions of various kinds are so produced. But thelater Christians seem to have regarded the partial fasting[Pg 352]during Lent and on certain days of the week as a sort ofprotest against gluttony and excess, and there is no objectionto it among Protestant Churches excepting thatit must not be claimed as a merit or the equivalent of"good works."

That fish were, even in the most ancient times,allowed to be eaten on fast days is curious. It is suggestedby some students of this subject that the customcame from Syria, and had to do with certain paganceremonials and the worship of the fish-god Dagon. Itis supposed that some of these early Christians managed,under the guise of a fast of the Church, to maintainan ancient pagan custom and religious rite connectedwith the Syrian fish-god. The Jews also eat fish onFriday evening—though in both cases the origin of the"fish-eating" was lost sight of in the early centuries ofthe Christian era. On the other hand, it appears thatthe worshippers of the fish-god (at any rate, at a remoteperiod) were forbidden to eat fish as being sacred; henceit seems possible that the permission of a fish diet toChristians during days of fasting was given as a meansof encouraging those who retained pagan superstitions toignore and forget them. The supposition that the eatingof fish on certain days is a survival of a ceremonial observanceconnected with fish-worship is the more probableexplanation of the custom.

The worship of fish or of a fish-god is one of theoutcomes of the old Nature-worship—the cult of Cybeleand Rhea, who in the Greek Islands became the greatmother Aphrodite born of the sea, and in Syria Ashtaroth(Astarte). She appears also as Atargatis, the Syrianfish-goddess born from a fish's egg, and worshipped atHierapolis; her worshippers must not eat fish. Dagon,[Pg 353]the fish-god of the Philistines, belongs to the same groupof mythologic inventions. He was half-fish and half-human,like a merman, and is, in spite of this strangepersonality identified with the Greek Adonis! The cultof the fish-god was widely spread in ancient Greece, evenin Byzantine times, and many Christian converts weredevotees of the fish worship. I have on my table aphotograph of a life-sized fish modelled in gold whichwas dug up in 1883 from the shores of a lake near thecoasts of the Black Sea. It was at one time supposedto be of mediaeval workmanship, but is now shown to beof ancient Greek workmanship (450B.C.), and was probablya votive offering connected with the worship of thefish-god.

Then, again, in the ancient Indian story of theDeluge we read of Manu (who is the Noah of thatvariety of the ancient legend) finding a remarkable youngfish in a stream where he is bathing. The young fish(which is really the god Vishnu in disguise) can talk, andrequests Manu to take care of it, and promises him if hedoes so to reveal to him when the deluge is coming on.Manu takes the fish home and rears it. He then is toldby the fish to prepare an ark, and place on board usefulanimals and seeds and then to embark on it with hisfamily. The ark floats away in the flood, guided by thesagacious fish, which seizes a rope and, swimming infront of the ark, tows it to a mountain in Armenia(Ararat!), where the vessel rests whilst the flood goesdown.

There was evidently a special cult of the fish inSyria and the East, which spread to Greece and Romein very early pre-Christian times, and survives in someof the stories in the "Arabian Nights" about humanbeings being turned into fish. It is not surprising that[Pg 354]this cult should have lodged itself by obscure means inthe practices of the early Church.

The most remarkable outcome of this is the recognitionof the fish as the symbol of Christ. The letters ofthe Greek name for fishΙΧΘΥΣ (ichthus) can be interpretedas an acrostic, the component letters of the wordtaken in order being the first letters of the wordsἸησοῦςΧριστὸς Θεοῦ Υἱός, Σώτηρ (Jesous Christos Theou UiosSoter), which are in English "Jesus Christ Son of God,Saviour." This coincidence enabled the pagan worshippersof the fish-god to make their symbol or "totem"(using that word in a broad sense) the symbol of theChristian religion. Whether the use of the fish and ofthe letters of the Greek name for it was or was notindependently started by the early Christians, its employmentmust have conciliated the fish-worshipping pagans,and rendered it easy to bring them into the fellowship ofthe Christian Church. Hence we see that a fish hasmore to do with Christianity than appears at first sight.It is quite possible that whilst the cult of the fish-god orfish-goddess may have involved at one period of itsgrowth an abstention from the eating of fish or ofparticular species of fish as being sacred, yet the veryancient belief in "contagious magic" and the acquirementof the qualities of a man or an animal by eatinghis flesh, may have in the end prevailed and led to theeating of fish, the sacred symbol, on the fast days prescribedby the Church, when a special significance wouldbe attached to such food as was sanctioned.

The evidence of the connexion of the early ChristianChurch with fish worship becomes convincing when oncethe importance of the great secret cult of the "Orpheists"and its connexion both with early Christianity and withfish worship is recognized.

It has long been known that there is a specialassociation of the very ancient and primitive Greek cultof Orpheus, with the much later cult of Christianity.Many of the most important doctrines and practices ofthe widely spread secret society of the Orpheists closelyresemble those of Christianity. Carvings and medalsof Orpheus bringing all animals to his feet by his musicwere, by the earliest Christians, adopted as equally wellrepresenting Christ the Good Shepherd. But recentdiscoveries carry the matter much further. Orpheus isone of the names of a mythical hunter and fisherman ofprehistoric times, who taught his people music, and byhis magic helped them to successful catches of fish, andto the "netting" of beasts, as well as of fish. Hisfollowers adopted the fish as their "totem," or sacredanimal, and they represented Orpheus (whether knownby that or other names) as the warden of the fishes, afish-god, and himself a fish—"the great fish"—and a"fisher of men." Fishes were kept in his temples andeaten solemnly (at first in the raw condition), in orderto transmit to his worshippers his powers.

In Greece, where the cult of Orpheus was introducedby way of Thrace, he became mixed with, or made asubstitute for, Dionysus (the wine-god), and the samelegends were told about the one as the other. He andhis followers are pictured as wearing a fox's skin(supposed by some to have been originally the skin ofa sea-fox or shark), and the fable of the fox and thegrapes, and the very ancient story of the fox fishingwith his tail, belong to the Orpheus legends.

Very ancient peoples, earlier than the Greeks ofclassical times, habitually adopted some animal as theirtotem and name-god—as do many savage races to-day.[Pg 356]Thus, the Myrmidones of Thessaly had the ant (myrmes)as their totem, the Arcadians the bear (arctos), thePelasgi, who preceded the other tribes in Greece—thestork (pelargos). It is now suggested that the Hellenes,who succeeded the Pelasgi, and gave their name toGreece (Hellas) and to all its people, were so calledfrom their having the fish (ellos, the mute or silent one,a common term applied to fish) as their "totem," andthat they were, in fact, from the first worshippers of thefish-god Orpheus, Di-orphos, Dagon or Adonis! Other"cults" grew up among them. The whole Olympiancompany of gods and goddesses were fitted out by poetsand priests with man-like forms, and with the speech,habits, and passions of humanity. But the old deep-rootedworship of the primeval fisherman who wastypified by and identified with "the great fish"—muchelaborated by its hymns and mystic ritual, its lore, andits legend—flourished and developed wonderfully insecret, wherever Greeks were found. Its priests weremissionaries like the mendicant friars of later days, andit was—in pre-Christian times—the most popularcult not only in Greece and Asia Minor, but also inSouthern Italy. Hence it is easy to understand thatChristianity, by adopting the fish—theΙΧΘΥΣ—as itsemblem, readily received sympathy and converts from theOrpheists, and that the solemn rite of eating the fish onappointed days was established. Hence it seems to havecome about that the early Christian Church permittedthe eating of fish on most (but not on all) fast days.

Some of my readers have seen the Greek wordfor "a fish" stamped upon Prayer Books, or possiblya fish embroidered on the hangings of the church wherethey go to celebrate the birth and the passion ofChrist, as their ancestors have done for a thousand years.And now they will understand the origin of the associa[Pg 357]tionof the sacred fish with Christian ornament, derivedfrom a lingering pagan reverence for the mysterioussilvery inhabitants of deep pools, great rivers, and thesea. It is to such survivals of the now dim rituals andcelebrations of ancient days that we owe the joyful hollyand the mystic mistletoe, still happily preserved in ourfestivities at Christmas and New Year.

The use of fish as a regular article of diet is verywidely spread. Fresh fish is considered by medical mento be more easily digested than the flesh of beasts orbirds, and a healthy substitute for the latter. Almosteverywhere where fish are eaten, the practice of drying,and often of salting, fish, so as to store them for consumptionafter an abundant "catch," has grown up, andwith it a great liking for the flavours produced by thespecial chemical changes in the fish arising from saltingand drying. Ordinary putrefaction produces verypowerful poisons in the flesh of fish. They are knownas "ptomaines," and are produced in the flesh of fishmore readily that in that of other animals. But theprocess of drying in the sun or of salting and smokingthe fish averts the formation of these poisons. It seems,however, that a diet of dried fish is responsible for acertain kind of poisoning in man, which renders himliable to the attack of the terrible bacillus of leprosy.The leprosy bacillus must get into the body by anabrasion or crack in the skin, through contact with aperson already infected. It is known that the lack offresh vegetable and animal food produces the ulceratedunhealthy condition called "scurvy," and a "scorbutic"state of the body seems to be favourable to the establishmentin it of the leprosy bacillus. The substitution offresh meat and vegetables as a diet in place of driedfish and salted meat has apparently been one of the[Pg 358]chief causes of the disappearance not only of "scurvy"but of leprosy from Europe. Leprosy is rapidly becomingextinct in Norway. It still survives in a few localities,and is common in several uncivilized communities inremote regions, such as parts of Africa, India, China, andthe Pacific Islands. In an earlier chapter, p. 292, I havereferred to the disease known as "scurvy," which hasbecome so uncommon now as to have escaped thoroughinvestigation by modern pathologists.

A few marine fish are known which are highlypoisonous to any and every man, even when cooked andeaten in a perfectly fresh condition, and there are manyindividuals who suffer from the "idiosyncrasy," as it iscalled, of liability to be dangerously poisoned not onlyby the peculiar and rare fish which are poisonous toevery one, but by any and every fish they may eat, orby two or three common kinds only. Thus, somepersons are poisoned if they eat lobster or crab, oroysters or mussels, but can tolerate ordinary fish. Othersare poisoned, without fail, by mackerel and by greymullet, but not by sole or salmon. The symptomsresemble those produced in ordinary persons by the"ptomaines" of putrid fish, and seem to be due to thepresence even in fresh fish of a kind of ptomaine whichsome persons cannot destroy by digestion, whilst mostpersons can do so. It is literally true that "What isone man's meat is another man's poison."

The use as a "relish" of the little fish, the anchovy—alliedto the sprat and the herring—preserved in saltliquor in a partially decomposed state, but not undergoingthe ordinary chemical change excited by thebacteria of putrescence, is remarkable and very widelyspread. Anchovy sauce is made by mashing up suchchemically decomposed anchovies, and is one of the very[Pg 359]greatest and most approved of all sauces. The anchovyis a Mediterranean fish; it is taken in small numbers insprat-nets in the English Channel and in the DutchZuyder Zee. So-called "Norwegian anchovies" are notanchovies, but are small sprats. When taken fresh andcooked and eaten, the anchovy has a very bitter,unpleasant flavour, which can be washed out of it bysplitting the fresh fish and letting it lie in salt and water.It was this practice of washing out the bitterness whichled the Mediterranean fisher-folk to discover that if leftfor some time in moderately strong brine the anchovydevelops a wonderfully appetizing flavour, and becomesdark red in colour, whilst the liquid also becomes red.I believe that, although it would be easy to do so, it hasnot been ascertained whether the red colour is due to adirect action of the salt upon the blood-pigment of thefish—as is the red colour of salt beef—or whether it isdue to a special red-colour-making bacterium, as is thecase with salted dried cod, which is sometimes renderedunsaleable by this red growth. However that may be,the red colour of the preserved anchovy is well known,and is produced by dealers by means of artificial pigments,if not already naturally present in the salted fishas they come to market. No one would guess on tastinga really fresh bitter anchovy that it could develop thefine flavour which it does when soaked in brine to getrid of its bitterness.

Another little fish, the Bummaloh, or "Bombay duck"(Harpodon), is taken in large quantities off the WestCoast of India, and is dried and used for the peculiarflavour thus developed, which is quite different from thatof the anchovy. It is a deep-water fish, and is phosphorescent.The liking for the flavours developed in thesefishes by various bacteria when specially treated, is[Pg 360]similar to that which necessity and custom hasdeveloped in our attitude to cheese. Fresh cheese isdifficult to obtain. Habit has ended in our preferringstale, decomposed cheese, which has developed a wholeseries of flavours by the action on it of special bacteriaand moulds. The Roman soldiers of the first centuryused a small salted fish (probably enough the anchovy)to eat with their rations of bread, and such fish wereusually sold with bread. Probably the small "fishes"which, together with a dozen loaves of bread, are statedto have been used in the miraculous feeding of themultitude by Christ, were salted anchovies.

Dealers in Norwegian preserved fish not only falselycall small sprats by the name "Anchovy" in order to sellthem, but they have recently prepared sprats in themanner invented by French fish-curers for the preparationof the young Pilchard. The French name for youngPilchard is "Sardines," and their Italian name even in SirThomas Browne's time (1646) was "Sardinos." Thenatural fine quality of the sardine and the skilful"tinning" and flavouring of it by the French "curers"of Concarneau in Brittany, have made it celebratedthroughout the world as a delicacy. The dealers inNorway sprats—for the purpose of passing off on thepublic a cheap, inferior kind of fish as something muchbetter—have recently stolen the French curers' name of"Sardine," and coolly call their sprats "Sardines." Thesprats thus cured are soft and inferior in quality to thetrue sardines, which are a less abundant and thereforemore costly species of fish. The fraudulent use in thisway of the name "Sardine" has been condemned by thelaw courts in London, but the punishment for such fraud isso small and the profit to the fraudulent dealers is so greatthat our French friends have to submit to the iniquity.

IT is a remarkable fact that although the first effortsof the founders of the Royal Society for the Promotionof Natural Knowledge, two hundred and fifty years ago,in this country, and of other such associations on theContinent, had the immediate effect of destroying alarge amount of that fantastic superstition and credulitywhich had until then prevailed in all classes of society,and although that period marks the transition fromthe astounding and terrible nightmares of the MiddleAges to a happier condition when witchcraft, sorcery,and baseless imaginings concerning natural things gaveplace to knowledge founded on careful observation andexperiment—yet the ugly baleful relic of savagery diedhard, even in the most civilized communities.

In spite of all the light that has been shed uponobscure processes, and all the triumphs of the knowledgeof "the order of Nature," there remains to this day inthis country a surprising amount of ignorance, accompaniedby blind unreasoning devotion to traditionalbeliefs in magic, and a love of the preposterous fanciesof a barbarous past, simply because they are preposterous!"There is something in it," is a favourite phrase, and thewords put by Shakespear into the mouth of the dementedHamlet, who thinks he has seen and conversed with[Pg 362]a ghost, "There are more things in heaven and earth,Horatio, than are dreamed of in your philosophy," aregravely quoted as though they were applicable to theHoratios of to-day. We have no reason to supposethat there are more things in heaven and earth than aredreamed of in our philosophy. Those who inappropriatelyquote this saying as though it were proverbialwisdom are usually persons of very small knowledge,and mistake their own limitations for those of mankindin general.

The real and effective answer to all such head-shakingsand airs of mystery is to demand that thereputed marvel shall be brought before us for examination.The method of the disciples of the founders ofthe Royal Society is not to deny or to assert possibilities.They hold it to be futile to discuss why such andsuch a thing shouldnot exist, and still worse to concludethat it does exist, or to hold its existence to be probable,because you cannot say why it should not exist.The real question is, "Does it exist? Is it so?" Andthe only way of dealing with that question is to havethe marvel brought before you and subjected to examinationand test. "Nullius in verba!" The mere statementof dozens of witnesses merely gives you as athing to explain or account for, not the marvel reported,but the fact that certain persons say or are reported tosay that it does. What you have to examine, in theabsence of the marvel itself, is, "How is it that thesepeople make this statement?" You must inquire intothe capacities and opportunities of the witnesses. Thereare several possible and probable answers to that inquiry.For instance, it may be that the witnesses are merelyinaccurate, or are self-deceived, or deceived by thetrickery or credulity of others, or are insane, or are[Pg 363]deliberately stating what is false. Another and oftenthe least probable answer is that the witnesses orreporters state what they do because it is the simpletruth. The statements made have to be accounted forby one or other of these hypotheses or suggestions, andeach suggestion as to the origin of the statements mustbe tested by reference to independent facts in orderto dismiss or to confirm it.

The whole of what is called "modern occultism,"including spiritualism, second-sight, thought transference(so-called telepathy), crystal-gazing, astrology,and such mysteries, can only be treated reasonablyin the way I have mentioned. We ask for a demonstrationof the occurrence of the mysterious communicationsor prophecies, or "raps" or "levitations,"or whatever it may be. Lovers of science have neverbeen unwilling to investigate such marvels if fairlyand squarely brought before them. In the very fewcases which have been submitted in this way toscientific examination, the marvel has been shown tobe either childish fraud or a mere conjurer's trick, orelse the facts adduced in evidence have proved to beentirely insufficient to support the conclusion that thereis anything unusual at work, or beyond the experienceof scientific investigators.

It is unfortunately true that most persons are quiteunprepared to admit the deficiencies of their own powersof observation and of memory, and are also unaware oftheir own ignorance of perfectly natural occurrenceswhich continually lead to self-deception and illusion.Moreover, the capacity for logical inference and argumentis not common. The whole past and presenthistory of what is called "the occult" is enveloped in[Pg 364]an atmosphere of self-deception and of readiness to bedeceived by others to which misplaced confidence intheir own cleverness and power of detecting trickeryrenders many—one may almost say most—peoplevictims. The physician who has given his life to thestudy of mental aberration and diseases of the mind isthe only really qualified investigator of these "marvels,"and no one who has closely studied what is known inthe domain of mental physiology and pathology hasany difficulty in understanding, and bringing intorelation with large classes of established facts as toillusions and mental aberration, the "beliefs" in magicand second-sight which are here and there found flourishingat the present day, as well as the, at first sightstartling, evidence of highly accomplished men who havesuffered from such delusions.

Leaving aside all these more extreme cases of whatwe may call "challenges" to science, let me cite oneor two of the more ordinary classes of cases in whichscience is either attacked or treated with disdain bymodern wonder-mongers. It was declared by a writerin the eighteenth century that, after all, human knowledgeis a very small thing, since we cannot even tellon one day what the weather is going to be on thenext; still less can we control it. That remainsperfectly true to-day, although by the hourly observationand record of the movements of "areas of depression"in the atmosphere and the telegraphic communicationof these records from all parts of the Atlantic regionof the northern hemisphere to central stations, a veryimportant degree of accuracy in foretelling gales, andeven minor changes of weather, has been reached. Sideby side with this organized study of the movements of"weather" we still have the so-called "almanacs," in[Pg 365]which, as in the days of old, certain wizards claim toforetell the weather of a year, as well as other events.It is less surprising that these wizards should findbelievers when one discovers that there are actually well-to-do,"half-educated" people in England who believeat this day that the delightful clever exhibitors ofmechanical tricks and sleight-of-hand are really (asthey usually are called) "conjurers"—that is to say,that they conjure spirits and use the "black art." Not longago, having published my experience of the trickery of"dowsers," and the illusion known as the "divining-rod,"I received a letter in which my correspondent relatedthat, being in the coffee-room of an hotel in a countrytown, he was asked by a man who was there to stretchout his hand. He did so, and the man placed fourcoppers in a pile upon it. The man then took up anempty matchbox which happened to be on the table,and placed it over the coppers as they lay on mycorrespondent's hand. After an interval of three or fourseconds the man lifted the matchbox, and the copperswere gone! This, which I need hardly say is one ofthe most common "conjuring tricks" familiar to everyschoolboy, was, according to my correspondent, proof tohim that the man possessed powers "not dreamed of inyour philosophy," and that such powers and those ofdiscovery by use of the divining-rod and similar occultarts are possessed by many gifted beings!

It is to be hoped that such credulity is not verycommon—it is difficult to form an estimate as to itsprevalence, for it breaks out in different directions indifferent individuals. The more impudent quackremedies for various diseases have had believers amongstall classes of society—and occasionally some enthusiastbursts out with indignation in a letter to the papers,[Pg 366]complaining that men of science or the medical professionneglect their duty to the public and refuse toexamine the wonderful cure. In all these cases thecure is either a drug which is perfectly well known andpractically worthless for the treatment of the disease forwhich it is recommended, or—as in the case of thecelebrated "blue electricity" and "red electricity" (nonsensicalnames in themselves) sold by an Italian swindleras a cure for cancer and patronized by aristocraticladies and the late Mr. Stead—is found to be absolutelynon-existent. In this last case the liquid sold in littlebottles at a high price was nothing but plain water! Amore respectable case was the advocacy a few weeksago by a correspondent in a morning paper of a commonAfrican plant (a kind of basil) as a sure destructive orwarder-off of mosquitoes when grown near human habitations,and therefore a protective against malaria. Nothingcould have been more emphatic than the declaration ofthe value of this plant by its advocate. But a few daysafterwards a letter appeared from a scientific man, givingan account of careful and varied experiments, alreadymade and published, which show that this basil, althoughcontaining in its leaves "thymol," as do some otheraromatic herbs, yet neither when grown in quantity norwhen crushed and spread out in a room has any effectwhatever in checking the access of mosquitoes and otherflies! In this case, the reputed medical marvel was tohand: it was dealt with, tested, and, as they say in theold register of the Royal Society, "was found faulty."

THE gradual passage of the race of man from thecondition of "beasts that reason not" to that of"persons of understanding and reason" has been animmensely long and a very painful one. It is not yetcomplete—is far, indeed, from being so—even amongstthe most favoured classes of the most highly civilizedpeoples of to-day. Just as our bodily evolution andadaptation to present conditions is incomplete andexhibits what Metchnikoff has called "disharmonies"—thatis, retentions of ancestral structures now not onlyuseless, but even positively injurious—so does the mentalcondition attained by civilized man (if we do not limitour observation to exceptional instances) exhibit a retention—bymeans of records and accepted teaching—ofbeliefs and tendencies which were among the first productsof the blundering efforts of human reason, andhave caused atrocious suffering to millions of humanbeings in the long process of mental development. Atone time the whole race lived in a world of delusionsand fantastic beliefs—the outcome of false or defectiveobservation rather than of false logic. These false conclusionsas to many subjects were inevitable as soon asman began to reason at all. It was the necessaryand injurious accompaniment of the growing habit of"reasoning" by which the more fortunate races have[Pg 368]eventually been brought, step by step, to correct conclusionsand a dominant position at the present day. Theprogress from the almost universal prevalence of anenormous system of preposterous false beliefs or conclusionsonward to the triumph of sound knowledge has notonly taken an immense period of time, but left wholeraces of men and large sections of the population—evenin those races which have produced individuals remarkablefor their power of discovering the truth—still subjectto the early erroneous conceptions of natural processesand of man's relation to them.

The conclusion certainly seems to be justified that themost advanced animal progenitors of mankind, who livedand died unreasoning, the mere puppets of natural forceswhich they neither could, nor tried to, understand andcontrol, were "happier" than the "rebel" man when hefirst conceived the notion that he could detect cause andeffect, not only as between a blow and the production ofa serviceable flint implement, but in the beneficent orinjurious relations of the things around him to oneanother and to himself. Primitive men seem at a veryremote period to have elaborated in regard to such vitalmatters a series of conclusions—differing in various racesaccording to place and circumstance—to which theywere led by erroneous observation and imperfect reasoning—reasoningwhich was arrested and distorted by fear,desire, haste, and imagination. The word "magic" isnow used to indicate those beliefs and conclusions in alltheir variety, because the "magi" or priests of Zoroaster(Zarathustra), the founder of the religion of the ancientPersians, taught them in an elaborated form, andpractised a system of supposed control of natural forcesand of spirits, good and evil, in connexion with suchbeliefs. Magic is, therefore, defined as the general term for[Pg 369]the practice and power of wonder-working as dependenton the employment of supposed supernatural or "occult"agencies. It forms a vast field of study and one of thegreatest interest in the attempt to follow out the historyof the workings of the human mind, its extraordinaryenvelopment in error and delusion, and its gradualemancipation therefrom.

In origin "magic" and "religion" are one. Thepriest and the magician were originally one. Man triedto control Nature by the use of spells and fantasticprocedures, based on imagined powers and correspondencesin natural objects. He excogitated (as a modernchild sometimes does) a sort of fancifully assumedsystem of fixed laws of natural relations and interactions,of causes and effects which were suggested by superficiallikenesses and wild guesses at connexion and sequence,accepted without criticism. Thus, we have the widespreaddoctrines of "sympathetic magic" and of "contagiousmagic." An example of the first is the beliefthat a certain tree or animal is the sympathetic representativeof a certain man, and that as the one flourishesor suffers and dies so will the other. This is extendedinto a belief that a drawing or image, or even an unshapedstone, may sympathetically represent a man oran animal. The American medicine-man draws thepicture of a deer on a piece of bark, and expects thatshooting at it will cause him to kill a real deer the nextday. He mistakes a connexion which exists only inthe mind of the sorcerer for a real bond independent ofthe human mind. Thus, too, waxen or clay images ofan enemy are made and melted before fire or wasted inwater, or pierced with pins (even at this day in Scotland,as witness a clay figure in the museum at Oxford), inthe belief that the enemy himself will be similarly injured.[Pg 370]The belief in "contagious magic" leads to the procuringof a drop of the blood, or of a piece of the hair, the toenails,the clothing, or even a part of the unconsumedfood of another individual, in order that a sorcerer may,by acting upon it or repeating "incantations" over it,influence the actions and life of that individual for goodor for ill.

But besides the many forms of these two kinds ofmagic, there is a later variety of magic which grew upwith what is not a primitive belief, namely, the belief inthe existence of spiritual beings inhabiting trees, rocks,waters, and animals. It developed further with the laterbelief in the existence of ghosts or spirits of the dead.Fear and the desire to control hostile unseen forces wasthe motive of all magic. The magician invented "spells,""rites," and "ceremonies" for controlling and bendingthese spirits to his will. But as a still later development,we find more and more definitely separated from themagician and his spells—the priest, who learnt humilityin the face of might greater than his own, and, abandoningthe attempt to coerce, adopted the attitude ofpropitiation and prayer, and prostrated himself before ahigher power. Thus (as Dr. Marret writes) religiongradually became separated from magic, though oftenmixed with it, and often retaining magical elements.Religious cults became publicly recognized, established,and respectable, whilst "magic" became private, secret,disreputable, and at last openly condemned and suppressedby the priests of religion. The history of magicin Europe, Asia, Africa, and America presents an almostunlimited field of study. We find remarkable agreementsin the fundamental notions on which magic is based inall parts of the world and also important differences indetails and special developments.

Divination is that branch of magic which attempts[Pg 371]todiscover secrets or to foresee events, whilst magic ingeneral is an attempt toinfluence the course of events.Divination is the process of attempting to obtainknowledge of secret or future things by means of oracles,omens, or astrology. One of its methods is "necromancy,"the supposed communication with the spirits of the dead.This word is formed from the Greek words "nekros," acorpse, and "manteia," divination; but in Latin it waserroneously written "nigromantia," and so gave rise tothe application of the name "the black art" to sorceryand witchcraft in general. By the ancient Greeks andRomans all omens, as well as oracles, were regarded assent by the gods, and in ancient Rome a large andwealthy corporation of augurs who were constantly consultedby private individuals as well as by the Stateexisted. They received regular "fees" for their servicesin interpreting and seeking for omens. The orthodoxbelief has always been either that the soothsayer is directlycontrolled by a god or a spirit, or, on the other hand, thatthe material objects inspected and regarded as signs of thefuture are controlled by the gods or by spirits, so as toafford information. Divination is, and has been, practisedin all grades of civilization and culture, from the Australian"black fellow" to the American medium. Amongst itsmany varieties are (1) crystal gazing, a method similarto that of dreams, excepting that the vision is set upvoluntarily by gazing into a crystal ball or a basin ofwater; (2) shell-hearing; (3) the divining-rod in itsvarious forms; (4) sieve, ring, and Bible swinging; (5)automatic writing; (6) sand divination, widely practisedin Africa; (7) trance-speaking; (8) the examination ofthe hand, or palmistry; (9) card-laying; (10) the interpretationof dreams; (11) the casting of lots, or sortilege;(12) the drawing of texts from the Bible or from Virgil(the 'sortes Virgilianæ' of old times); (13) the inspection[Pg 372]of the entrails of animals freshly killed (haruspication), andthe study of footprints; (14) augury by omens, such asthe behaviour and cry of birds, and the meeting withominous animals; and lastly (15 and 16), the two highlyelaborated and pretentious systems of astrology (divinationby the stars) and geomancy (divination by the lieof hills and rivers). In the case of astrology the starsare believed not merely to prognosticate the future, butalso to influence it, and the latter is the special featureof geomancy, practised in China, where no house orother building can be erected without a certificate as toits favourable position in regard to "magic" by theprofessional "geomancer," who has to be paid his fee,and thus takes the place of the local government surveyorand sanitary officer of Western Europe.

In the exercise of these arts of divination there is nodoubt that, owing to the concentration of his attentionon the thing to be inspected the operator is, in manykinds of divination, "self-hypnotized," or brought intothat well-known mental condition in which the unconsciousmemory and other special mental processes areactive, whilst an exaggerated acuteness of the senses isproduced. In other cases the person who consults the"operator" may be so influenced. Hallucination of onekind and another is therefore likely to occur, and thusmystery and apparently marvellous results are not inconsistentwith the good faith of the operator. Butthere is no reason to doubt that the modern sorcererswho make money by their pretended divinations arerogues and impostors of a particularly dangerous andinjurious variety.

Palmistry or chiromancy is one of the oldest of thelarge family of systems for foretelling the future. Itexisted in China 4000 years ago, and is treated in the[Pg 373]most ancient Greek writings as a well-known belief.The gipsies probably brought it with them from India.Those who practise palmistry pretend that by the inspectionand proper interpretation of the various irregularitiesand flexion-folds of the skin of the hand themental or moral dispositions and powers of an individualcan be discovered, and not only that, but that thecurrent of future events in the life of an individual areindicated by them. To this it is customary to addnowadays the pretence of a revelation by these samemarkings of events in the past life of their owner. It isonly what we might have expected that primitive man,seeking for signs and occult mysteries, should have foundin the varying folds of the hand—"the organ of organs"—somethingto excite his tendency to attribute magicalimportance to what he could not simply explain. Thefolds of the skin on the palmar surface of the hand are,as a matter of fact, so disposed that the thick loose skinshall be capable of bending in grasping, whilst it is helddown to the skeleton of the hand by fibrous lines ofattachment, so as to prevent its slipping and the consequentinsecurity of grip. The swellings bounded bythe lines of folding and fixture are called "monticuli"by the palmist, and are simply subcutaneous fat, whichacts as a padding, or cushioning, and projects betweenthe lines of fibrous attachment of the skin to the deeplyplaced bones. They differ slightly in different individuals,as do other structures.

These same lines and monticuli are present in thehands and feet of the chimpanzee and other man-likeapes, and were specially exhibited under my direction inthe upper gallery of the Natural History Museum. Butno palmist ever read the ape's hand, although, accordingto the great and authoritative treatises on palmistry, it[Pg 374]would be perfectly easy to do so, since every variationin the lines and the monticules has been mechanicallydealt with, and its supposed indications precisely determinedby a formal set of rules. There are similar lineson that part of the foot in human infants and in theadult apes which corresponds to the palmar surface. Butno palmist has attempted to deal with them. The factis that the attributions indicated by such names as theline of heart, the line of life, the line of the head, andthe line of fortune are purely arbitrary, as are those ofthe monticules Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, the Sun, Mercury,Mars, and the Moon. In past times there have beengreat divergences in their interpretation by differentschools, and the present uniformity is as devoid of anyconceivable relation to fact as were the former divergences.It is impossible to discuss the asserted correlationof the lines and monticules of the hand with eithercharacter or life-history, since no facts are offered insupport of the notion that there is such a correlation.We have bare assertion, and nothing more, as in mostof the other doctrines of magic.

The shape of the hand and of the fingers, and thesoftness, hardness, dryness, and moisture of the skin aretaken into account by most palmists. Few, if any, ofthose who pretend at the present day to "read" a handare really acquainted with the elaborate rules laid downby the painstaking, if deluded, people who endeavouredto construct a sort of astrology of the hand by assigningthe names of heavenly bodies to parts of it. Themodern professional palmist forms a judgment and guessas to his or her client's character and probable past andfuture history by indications and information obtainedfrom the client's face, manner, conversation, costume, andpersonal acquaintance. If a vague prophecy made by[Pg 375]the "fortune-teller" should by hazard turn out to benear the truth, it is remembered and quoted by theclient as a proof of the truth of palmistry; if it does notprove to be correct, it is forgotten.

The question of the possibility of judging of thecharacter and disposition of a man or woman by theform and proportions of the hand or the foot is altogetherdistinct from that of the reality of "divination"of future events by applying a system of rules to theinterpretation of the lines and swellings of the palmarsurface. Persons of quick perception are in the habitof forming judgments as to character from a first impressionof the face, expression, voice, and movements ofanother individual. Often such judgments are erroneous,and I do not know that they have ever been proved by alarge series of experiments to be more frequently rightthan wrong. But it is possible that correct indicationsmay sometimes be thus obtained. Many people thinkthat they can form more or less correct judgments as tocertain mental characteristics by observing the shape andplay of the hand and fingers or of the foot. There maybe such a correlation of the gesture and form of handsor feet with some mental qualities, but obviously this hasnothing to do with palmistry. It has never been reallyproved that persons of what is called "good birth" havesmaller hands and feet than persons of "low birth,"although it is often assumed that they have. And ithas never been shown why small hands and feet shouldgo with "good birth," supposing that they do so, or whysome people have large and some small extremities.The possible effect of certain manual occupations inenlarging the hands of an individual is, of course, excluded;the question raised is as to naturally or hereditarilysmall hands and feet.

IT is quite true that one should not refuse to entertainthe possibility of something almost incredible takingplace, simply because it is highly improbable that it hastaken place. Also it is important that one should notaccept and believe in the reality of the marvellousoccurrence, merely because a decent sort of person hasasserted that he has witnessed it and is satisfied of itsreality. In a previous chapter (p. 117) we have seenhow the story of the Tree goose and the hatching ofgeese from Barnacles was supported by respectable butincompetent witnesses such as Gerard, the herbalist, andSir Robert Moray, the first president of the RoyalSociety. There are many equally baseless fancieswhich are attested by "respectable" witnesses at thepresent day.

The statement that workmen splitting large blocks ofstone in the quarries have seen a toad hop out of acavity in the interior of the stone attracted a good dealof attention in the earlier half of last century. I donot know whether it can be traced to any greatantiquity. I see no reason to doubt the truth of thestatement in its simple form as given above. It has,I have no doubt, repeatedly happened—as letters tonewspapers and in earlier days serious pamphlets record[Pg 377]—thaton splitting a block of stone the workmenengaged in the operation have seen a toad emergefrom the broken mass. The fact is that the rocks inmany stone quarries are "fissured" or cracked, so thata narrow space or "crack" extends through many feetof thickness of rock to the surface, which is covered byvegetable mould. Occasionally, owing to rain and flood,the mould is washed away, and some of it carried intothe cracks or fissures in the rock. Occasionally a youngtoad is carried from the surface into such a fissure andfar down its sides, and eventually lodges 20 feet ormore in the thickness of the rock. The same circumstanceswhich have carried the toad into the fissurecarry in also from time to time small worms, grubs,insects, on which the toad may feed, but in any casethe far-spreading though narrow fissure will hold plentyof air and moisture, and even without food a toadcan remain alive for several months provided that thetemperature is about that of a cool autumn day, itssurface kept moist and the air also. Hence it is inaccordance with recognized conditions that occasionallyquarrymen should "get out" a block of stone deepbelow the surface in a stone quarry which is traversedby a fissure or has a small natural cavity in it (aslimestone and other rocks often have) communicatingwith a fissure, and that when they break the stoneand accidentally open the fissure or connected cavity ahealthy living toad is found ensconced in it. The recentwashing of clay and powdered stone into the fissure byrain and flood sometimes may hide its existence fromthe casual observation of the workmen, and the softmaterial washed in may even be found fitting closelyto the toad's body. And thus it will appear thatthe toad is very closely embedded in the solidstone.

Probably no one would have cared very much acouple of hundred years ago if toads were constantlypresent in the centre of solid stones. Toads wereregarded as queer, dangerous things connected withwitchcraft, and there was no accounting for theirbehaviour. The view taken by the well-to-do classwould have been in those days (as perhaps it wouldbe less generally to-day) similar to that of the Chicagomillionaire when shown, by means of the spectroscopicexamination of light, the proof of the existence of themetal sodium in the sun. The professor who took themillionaire round his laboratory wished to interest himin the discoveries of science, and hoped that he mightcontribute to the funds necessary to pay for the elaborateand delicate instruments by which such discoveries aremade. He showed many remarkable experiments tohis visitor, and wound up by showing him the twonarrow lines of yellow light caused by incandescentsodium. He showed him how exactly their positionin the spectrum could be fixed and measured; howthey caused two black lines in the spectrum of light,which was made to traverse a flame in which incandescentsodium was present. And then he showedhim that in the spectrum of the sun's light there weretwo black lines (besides thousands of others) whichexactly coincide with the two sodium lines; whilstothers of the black lines in the solar spectrum coincidewith bright lines given out by incandescent hydrogen,iron, magnesium, etc. The millionaire followed it alland understood the completeness of the demonstration.The professor was delighted and hopeful. Then themillionaire said, "Who the hell cares if there is sodium inthe sun?" I was not told by the disappointed professor(it was Professor Michelson, and he related this littleepisode at a dinner of the Royal Society) what reply he[Pg 379]made to this inquiry or whether he was eventually successfulin his attempt to secure funds from the millionaire.The attitude which the millionaire took towards scientificdiscovery is not a natural one, but the result of thestifling of natural interest and curiosity by long concentrationon the art and practice of money-making.So, too—owing to other mental pre-occupations andconcentrations—though a boy or a savage might havebeen puzzled and deeply interested in the occurrenceof a live toad in the middle of an apparently solidpiece of rock, the "country gentleman" of the eighteenthcentury would have said, if the matter had been pressedon his attention, "Who the hell cares if there are live toadsin the rocks?" And a large but decreasing number ofhis representatives to-day would make the same remark.

It, however, happened that at the beginning of thenineteenth century a spirit of inquiry into the history ofthe crust of our earth was set going. The science ofgeology was eagerly pursued by many capable men, bothabroad and in this country. The Geological Society ofLondon was founded in 1809. The doctrine of thevast age of the earth and the demonstration of successivelayers of deposit—forming its rocks and containingthe remains of strange and of gigantic animals unlikethose now existing—excited widespread interest andcontroversy. Buckland introduced the study of geologyin Oxford. Lyell was his pupil, and became the greatteacher and exponent of geological theory in a series ofmasterly treatises, written in such form that theyappealed during half a century to educated men of allprofessions and occupations. The country clergy andtheir friends gave themselves with enthusiasm to theinvestigation of strata and the collection of fossils. Nowcame the opportunity of the toad embedded in stone!

It is not worth while inquiring who was the first tomake the suggestion, but it very soon became one ofthe favourite assertions of the wonder-mongers who hangon to the skirts of science—not to be confused with theenthusiastic nature-lover—that the living toads found inblocks of stone, and sometimes in lumps of coal, arethousands of years old, contemporary with the geologicage of the rocks in which they are found embedded,survivors of the extinct animals whose bones and teeththe geologists had discovered and described, also embeddedin such rocks! This entirely baseless fancytook root, and has flourished ever since the earlyVictorian period. Only a few months ago there wereparagraphs in the papers on the discovery of a live toadof antediluvian age in a block of stone. Old gentlemenhave repeatedly written to the newspapers, and sometimesprivately to me, describing how they had, onbreaking an unusually large lump of coal in the dining-roomcoal-scuttle, liberated from an age-long prison an antediluviantoad, which hopped out from the lump of coalin a marvellous state of health and agility. Wheneverany discussion has arisen with regard to these statements,and such an explanation offered as I have givenabove as to the apparent enclosure of a toad in a piece ofrock, or a similar explanation as to the encasement ofone in the black mud adhering to lumps of coal stackedin sheds or cellars—some of the would-be believers inthe immense age of the liberated toads appeal to thefact that amongst the most remarkable extinct animalswhose bodies are found in ancient strata are reptiles, whilstothers, more learned, insist on the well-known prevalenceof the remains of animals of the class Amphibia, towhich the toad belongs, in the "Coal Measures."

The answer to these rash believers in what they[Pg 381]call "the evidence of their own senses" and the disentombmentof living specimens of the ancient worldfrom lumps of stone or of coal—apart from that givenby the fact that there is complete absence of any proofthat the toad before liberation was really and trulyencased in a stony chamber to which it could not, byany possibility, have recently gained access—is that thecommon toad, which is thus discovered and supposed tobe a survivor of long past geologic ages, is a modernproduction of Nature's great breeding establishment.It is quite easy to distinguish it from all other livingspecies of toads; it is spread over a limited area,existing in the north temperate region of our hemispherein many parts of which it is replaced by other similarbut distinct species. If we ask what is known of it inpast ages as revealed by the Pliocene, Miocene, andEocene strata, we find that it did not exist at all inthe latest of these, but was represented by ancestorslike it, yet markedly different. Remains of a kind oftoad are found in the Upper Eocene "phosphorite" ofthe South of France, and in 1903 such remains werefound in an oolitic deposit. As we descend further theseries of geologic strata, the remains of toads and frogscease to occur. In the coal measures they were representedby ancestors provided with tails like the newtsand salamanders of our own day. They had not comeinto existence, nor, probably, had any creature closelyresembling them, at that period. In the "CoalMeasures" we find abundant remains of very large andalso of small animals related to salamanders, newts,and less closely to toads, but they are in great andimportant features of structure unlike the Amphibia andBatrachia of to-day. Hence the notion which lay atthe bottom of the excitement caused by the discoveryof live toads in the interior of rocks or of coal—namely,[Pg 382]that the creature was a survivor from the lost worldof extinct "antediluvian" animals—falls to the ground.It has no better claim to attention than the similar butperhaps bolder statement indulged in from time to timeby an inventive transatlantic Press, namely, that "someworkmen on blasting a rock in the quarries at Barnumsvillewere astonished by the escape from a cavity withinthe solid rock of a large flying lizard or pterodactyle,which immediately spread its wings and flew out of sight."

Connected with these fancies is the theory that thetraditional dragon of heraldry and of the Chinese is amemory handed down to the present day from immenselyremote times, when—so we are asked to believe—man co-existedwith the great extinct dragon-like creatures knownas pterodactyles (see "Science from an Easy Chair," FirstSeries; Methuen, 1910). As a matter of fact the heraldicdragon does not closely resemble the pterodactyle or otherextinct reptiles, and is an imaginative creation of humanartists based upon the realities of the great pythons ofIndia and the little parachute lizard (8 inches long)of the same region, known to zoologists as Draco volans.The close agreement of this little lizard with Europeanheraldic representations of the dragon is conclusive as tothe origin of the details of form and appearance assignedto that legendary beast, though the great size ascribed toit and the terror associated with it is traceable to the greatsnakes of the Far East—"drako" being the Greek word fora serpent. And further, there is very good ground for concludingthat a long interval of geologic ages separates thedisappearance of the great extinct reptiles and the pterodactylesfrom the appearance, on this globe, of the earliestman-like apes, and no reason to suppose that the lattercould have handed on any knowledge of such extinct reptilesto their descendants, even had they seen such creatures.

THE divining-rod, spoken of by the Romans as"virgula divina," and mentioned by Cicero andby Tacitus, was a different thing altogether from themodern forked twig of the water-finder, and seems to beof immemorial antiquity. Its use in "divination" wassimilar to that practised with a ring or a sieve suspendedby a string. When the rod is thrown into the air andfalls to the ground, or when the suspended object is setmoving, it eventually comes to rest, and when thus at restmust point in one particular direction. It was supposedthat gods or spirits invoked at the moment guided themovement and final position of rest, so as to make thedivining-rod or ring or sieve point to buried treasure, toan undetected murderer, or to a witch or wizard who hadused magic arts to injure the person seeking its aid.Bits of stick are so used at the present day by somesavage races. The notion leading to its use is the sameas that which has led to augury by inspection of ananimal's entrails, by the flight of birds, and other suchvarying appearances. The notion is that an unseenprotective power will, when properly invoked, interferewith the blindly varying thing and make it vary so asto give indications either of hidden objects or of futureevents. The unseen power which thus revealed itselfwas primitively supposed to be that of a god or a spirit,[Pg 384]but later the augur or intermediary who worked the"show" acquired exclusive importance and arrogated tohimself mysterious powers. The same transference ofimportance has come about in the case of the modernhazel-twig and the "douser," who now claims to "divine"without its aid.

The tossing of a halfpenny to decide as to alternativecourses of action, still almost universally prevalent in thiscountry, is in origin (and largely in actual practice) anappeal to supernatural powers to give an indication byinterference with the natural fall of the coin, as to whichof the alternative courses is the more favourable to theinterests of the individual who tosses the coin or agreesto follow its decision if tossed by someone else. "HeadsI go; tails I stay where I am." Of a like nature is thedrawing of lots, and so are a number of similar practicesoriginally devised for the purpose of obtaining guidancefrom supernatural sources. Some of them have survivedwithout any associated superstition, and are commonlyused at the present day merely in order to obtain animpersonal decision as to which of two or more claimantsis to enjoy a certain privilege or exemption, as, forinstance, when a coin is tossed to decide as to which sideof the river at the start shall be occupied by competitorsin a boat race, or which shall have choice of innings in acricket match, or as when lots are drawn to determinewho shall enjoy exemption from military service. Buteven in these cases there are large numbers of men andwomen who believe that some mysterious power whichcould possibly be won over to their side, or else whatthey call "a special providence," determines the issue.There are, I need hardly say, no facts which justify thebelief in any such interruption of the orderly course ofnature.

The forked twig (virgula furcata of the alchemists)used by water-finders has another significance and history.The forked twig is held, one branch in one hand and theother branch in the other hand, by the explorer. Aftera time, as the explorer walks along, the twig suddenly,and even vigorously, "plunges" or "ducks" as he holdsit. It seems to do so "of its own accord." The oldEnglish word "douse" signifies ducking, dipping, orplunging. The forked twig "douses." Hence thepersons who use it are called "dousers." The belief iswidespread that this dousing or plunging of the forkedtwig is caused by the presence of a vein of metallic orein the ground, or in other cases by the presence of subterraneanwater. It is interesting to ascertain whatgrounds there are for this belief.

The dousing-rod or twig is first mentioned in thefifteenth century by a writer on alchemy (Basil Valentine),and in 1546 by Agricola (De re metallica), who says itmust be either of willow or hazel, and describes its use inthe discovery of metalliferous veins and subterraneanwater. The purely fantastic belief on which its usewas based was part of the doctrine of "sympathies."It was supposed that the branches of certain plants weredrawn to certain "sympathetic" metals in the earthbeneath them—a supposition suggested by the downwardgrowth or "weeping" of the branches of trees andbushes in some cases. By the Germans the forked twigused in searching for metals or water was called "Schlagruthe,"which has the same meaning as "dousing" or"plunging" or "striking rod." It was introduced intoEngland by German miners who were employed in thetime of Queen Elizabeth by merchant venturers in workingthe Cornish mines—and it has remained with usever since—though one hears little at the present day of[Pg 386]its use in searching for metalliferous deposits, and moreabout the supposed wonderful results obtained with itsaid by professional water-finders.

We have to distinguish the facts established in regardto "the dousing-twig" from the inferences and suppositionsbased upon those facts by credulous people. Thereis no room for doubt that when the forked twig, in shapelike a letterY upside down, is held by a more or lessnervous but perfectly honest person who takes the mattervery seriously, and holds firmly one branch of the fork inone hand and the other in the other hand, the fingerswell round it so as to bring it against the palm of thehand, a strange thing happens after some minutes. Thetwig seems to the person holding it to give a suddenmovement as though drawn downwards. If he or she iswalking along, intently awaiting this movement, andbelieving that it will be caused by some subterraneanattraction, the effect is, naturally enough, startling. Itoccurs more readily with some persons than with others.What is the explanation of it? There is no necessityfor supposing that it is due to any mysterious attractionby hidden water or metal. It has been clearly shownthat it is due to fatigue of the muscles which are employedin keeping the hands and fingers in position.The muscles in use suddenly relax, and the hands turnto a new pose—one of rest—and with them the forkedtwig. In most persons attention and control are sufficientlyactive to prevent this sudden relaxation of themuscles. But those who are liable to mental absorptionin the strange procedure, and are apt to become half-dazedby the solemn sort of "rite" in which they areengaged, find their tired hands (tired, though they areunconscious of it) suddenly turning, and the twig "ducking"downwards in a way which they can neither explain[Pg 387]nor control. Such persons are the honest, self-deceived"dousers," who are, and have been, sufficiently numerousto establish a belief in the existence of a mysteriousagency causing the twig to "duck." No doubt originally,with complete innocence and honesty, this mysteriousagency was believed to be a sort of magnetic attractiondue to a sympathy between the twig and subterraneanmetal. In later days, without any attempt to give areason for the change, the same class of people havebelieved that it was water far below the surface of theearth which was the cause of the attraction, and consequentducking or dousing of the twig.

Let us assume for a moment that the facts are as Ihave stated, and that the honest "douser" merely findshis forked twig dousing or ducking because his hands aretired by keeping in one position. Then it is evident thatno harm would be done, but rather a useful decisionleading to action would be determined, by the belief thatconcealed metal was the cause of the "ducking." Diggingmust be commenced somewhere, and the dousing-rodwould only be tried on likely ground, so that, often, thething sought for (whether metal or water) would be foundafter prolonged excavation at the spot indicated by thedouser, or near it. If the digging were a failure, thebelievers in the dousing-rod would say that they had notbeen able to dig deep enough, or that some hostileagency had intervened and misled the "douser," or thathe was in poor health, and so "worked" badly. Thesuccesses are remembered and the failures forgotten. Sothe belief in the dousing-twig as a real guide to subterraneanmetal and water has been maintained, and all themore securely because there have been, and doubtless arestill, many honest, innocent country people who trulybelieve that they possess an exceptional and mysterious[Pg 388]gift in being able to experience the curious ducking actionof the twig when they walk with it in their hands inquest of this or that.

In the seventeenth century the dousing-twig wasused as a guide in all sorts of quests, for instance, insearching for hidden treasure and in tracking criminals!In our own times it is chiefly known through its use byprofessional water-finders. There is no doubt thatsome of these gentry are dishonest. They are not thecredulous rustics to whom the dousing-twig owes its longpopularity. They are often clever and expert judgesof the indications by form of the land, lie of geologicalstrata, and distribution of vegetation, as to the subterraneanwater which is so abundant in this country.They make a pretence of using the douser's twig, inorder to obtain employment from landowners in searchof a likely spot for sinking a well, since it is the factthat many people prefer to be guided by a sort ofmagician who uses a supposed mysterious occult agencyrather than to employ the honest and perhaps less acutegeologist who avowedly proceeds in his search for waterby making use of ascertained facts as to the structureand character of the subsoil and deeper strata of thedistrict in which his services are called for.

The believers in the connexion of the movement ofthe douser's rod and the existence of concealed metal orwater, have of late years started the theory that thetwig itself is of no value in the "experiment." Certaindousers have declared that they can work just as wellwithout it, and that it is not the rod or twig but theythemselves who are sensitive to concealed water or metal.They state that they feel a peculiar "sinking" in the pitof the stomach, also a nervous tremor, and that their[Pg 389]hands move spasmodically, causing the rod to move, andthey attribute this to an influence on the human body of"vibrations" or possibly "electricity" from the concealedmetal or water. This is ingenious enough; it shifts theseat of mysterious action from the simple twig to themuch more complex human body, and accepts to a certainextent what I have above stated as to the nervouscondition of the douser and the fatigue of the hands.

Others, who have lately discussed the subject, suggestthat the douser is affected not by any known kind ofphysical vibrations, but by some mysterious emanationfrom the concealed metals or water similar to that whichthey (without any sufficient evidence) assume to passfrom one human being to another over long distances,causing what has been called "second-sight,""thought-reading," and (in order to give an air ofscientific importance to it) "telepathy." This mayseem satisfactory to some people, but it is plainly a caseof attempting to explain a little-known thing by referenceto a still less known thing—what is called "ignotum perignotius." Sir W. F. Barrett, of Dublin, has latelywritten on this subject, and very rightly says that thereal question to be decided in the first instance iswhether the modern "water-finders," who profess to beguided by occult influences, whatever the nature of thoseinfluences may be, are more successful in discoveringwater than those who seek for it by the use of theknown natural indications of its presence; and, further,—andthis seems to me to be the most important consideration,—whether,taking into account all the "experiments"made by the occultist water-finders, boththe successful and the unsuccessful, the proportion ofsuccesses is greater than might be expected as amatter of chance and the use of common intelligence.

That is, in fact, the interesting point about thepersistent belief in the "magical" powers of water-finders.It is one of several more or less traditional beliefs whichdepend on coincidence. The belief in birth-marks is ofthis nature. A lizard drops from the ceiling of herroom on to a woman. A few weeks afterwards shebears a child which has a mark upon its breast more orless "resembling" a lizard. Some people believe thatthe mark on the child is caused by what is called "amaternal impression," the influence on the mother's mindof the scare caused by the lizard being expressed in themark on the child's body. To form a conclusion as tothe truth of this explanation we require to know whatproportion of mothers in a given population have beenstartled by lizards, what proportion of children are bornwith marks on them more or less "resembling" a lizard(there is much significance in the "more or less"), andwhether there are more children born with a lizard-likemark on the body from mothers who have beenfrightened shortly before the child's birth by a lizard,than from mothers who have not been thus frightened.The inquiry is not an easy one. The same question ofcoincidence applies to water-finding. Taking severalthousand attempts to find water we must ask, "Is theattempt unsuccessful in a larger percentage of trials inthe case of those who do not follow the indicationsof a dousing-rod than in the case of those who makeuse of it?" Sir W. F. Barrett admits the difficultyof getting at satisfactory statistics in the matter;but is inclined to think the dousers are the moresuccessful, and so entertains a theory of mysteriousagency to account for their success. My own impressionis that in difficult cases of search for waterdousers are as frequently unsuccessful as non-dousers.

It is true we cannot get proper returns of all casesof success and failure. But in this matter of "water-finding"we can make use of "experiment," a thing whichis not so easy in regard to birth-marks—though it isrelated that the patriarch Jacob made an experiment ofthis character with his pealed stakes. Experiments havelately been made with dousers or water-diviners to testtheir powers. These experiments have been carried outboth in Paris and in the South of England. They areunfavourable to the pretensions of the diviners.

It is very difficult to perform under perfectly fairconditions a number of experiments sufficiently large toenable us to arrive at a demonstration of the truth inthis matter. Some thousand "dousers" should be putto the test under proper conditions and guarantees, andthe percentage of failures and successes carefully recorded.This has not been done, although "dousers"have often been tested and found to be unable todiscover subterranean water known to be present, orelse have given erroneous indications. If you provesome one individual "douser" to be an impostor, orelse self-deluded—the reply by those who believe in theexistence of the occult power attributed to dousers is,naturally enough, that though this individual was an impostor,or incapable, yet that does not prove that allother individuals who claim to possess certain peculiarpowers in the discovery of water are so. All that canbe done is to challenge any douser to come forward andestablish, in the presence of a competent tribunal ofexperts, that he can indicate in a given area the whereaboutsof subterranean water already known to the committeebut not possibly known beforehand to the douser.

This experiment was made a year or two ago near[Pg 392]Guildford by a committee of water engineers and geologists,and also by a similar committee in Paris. Onlya dozen or two of the water-finding dousers came forwardand submitted to be thus tested, and they entirelyfailed to show any special capacity for discovering water.They failed signally. But then the believers may, ofcourse, retort that the really gifted superior dousers hadrefused to have anything to do with the inquiry, andthat "their withers are unwrung." The same kind oftest was some years ago made with the so-called"spiritualist mediums." A banknote for £1000 wasplaced in a very carefully sealed envelope, and depositedin a safe in a bank. Its owner advertised his offer topresent the note to any spiritualists who would correctlystate the number of the note. The offer remained openfor some years, but the spiritualists were unable to gaininformation about this very simple matter by theirmethods of consulting supposed "spirits," and the notewas never claimed. Of course, some of those whobelieve in spiritualism, maintain that the genuine"mediums," for some reason not altogether clear, refusedto make the attempt to discover the number. Others putforward the view that the "spirits" took offence at the proposedtest, and refused to reveal the number. Others,again, took the line that this was just one of the fewthings about which "spirits" are unable to communicatewith mortals, or are forbidden by superior order to reveal.

It is accordingly fairly obvious that it is not ofmuch use to take the trouble to expose the falsity ofthe pretensions of any isolated specimen of a douseror of a spirit medium. However that may be, someyears ago, when I was staying in an ancient castle inthe North of England, my hostess procured the attendanceof a youth who had a great reputation as a douser,[Pg 393]in order that I might test his pretensions. The youtharrived with his father, and had half a dozenY-shapedhazel twigs ready for use. The party staying in thecastle met him on the terrace, a broad gravel walkwhich surrounded the battlements. I asked him to walkround the castle and mark in our presence the spots atwhich his twig indicated the presence of subterraneanwater. The circuit was somewhat less than a quarterof a mile, and he indicated eleven spots. We placedobvious marks at each of these spots. I then took himinto the castle and, aided by a friend, carefully blindfoldedhim with pads of cotton-wool over each orbit anda large silk handkerchief. We then led him out by acircuitous route on to the terrace and asked him to tryagain to indicate the spots which he had just discovered.He walked along as before and stopped at several spots,saying that his twig indicated water where he stood.He also made futile efforts by turning and throwingback his head, to catch a glimpse of some of the markswe had placed at the spots previously indicated by him.But the pads of cotton-wool effectually prevented himfrom seeing anything. In no case (as a large party ofonlookers testified) were the spots indicated on hissecond circuit identical with, or even near to, thosemarked in the first circuit. His father said he was"upset" by the blindfolding. We then removed thebandage, and took him into a large courtyard beneathand across which from one corner to another a largesubterranean conduit ran. We had arranged that thewater should be running in abundance through thisconduit. We told him that such a subterranean channelexisted. He was left free and undisturbed, and his eyeswere not bandaged. But he failed to discover the conduitaltogether, although he crossed it several times;and he ended by declaring that his twig indicated subterranean[Pg 394]water at a spot remote from the conduit,where some large vats stood for the purpose of storingrain-water! All this, of course, tended to prove theincompetence of the youth as a douser, and to make itprobable that such successes as he had obtained elsewhere(and my hostess stated that they were verynumerous and remarkable, and vouched for by membersof her own family) were due to imposture.

But a single case like this does not bring one veryfar on the way to deciding the question as to whetherthere are persons who are genuinely and successfullyguided to the discovery of subterranean water by strangesensations and by spasmodic movements of their limbs orof hazel-twigs held in the hands, due (as they declare) to anobscure influence which emanates from subterranean waterand from buried metal. The fact is that we have in thebelief in the guidance of the douser by occult influencesa troublesome case of the fallacy in reasoning expressedby the words, "post hoc ergo propter hoc," or, to putit in English, "after this, therefore caused by this."Primitive man found that this mode of forming a conclusionvery often led to a correct discovery of theconnexion between two events, and he adopted it as aready method of guidance, although it was frequentlyfallacious. It has taken ages, literally ages, to makepeople discard this mode of arriving at a conclusion inserious matters, and it is still usual in less vital affairs.To show that B followed upon the occurrence of A, evenonce, is, of course, a proper and useful way of forming aguess or a suggestion as to the cause of B, but still moreis your guess legitimate if the sequence has occurredseveral times in your experience. But it is only aguess: a conclusion must not be accepted on that basis,although lazy and hasty people do adopt such con[Pg 395]clusions.You must find out the details of the natureof A and also of B, and if possible how the one isconnected with the other. And if you cannot do thatyou can still establish your conclusion and confirm yourguess by showing that Binvariably follows upon A, orthat (in a long experience) only when A has beenpresent, and never when A has not been present, hasB occurred. If you cannot prove the truth of yourguess by this experimental demonstration of the exclusionof other causes than A or by the experimentaldemonstration of the invariable occurrence of B after Ahas occurred, then you have to seek for evidence of areal connexion between A and B, though not an invariableone, by collecting a vast number of instances ofthe occurrence of B and finding out whether A haspreceded it in such a large proportion of cases (ascompared with those in which B has occurred withoutthe previous occurrence of A) that the cases in which Bfollows A cannot be considered as accidental, but indicatea real causal relation of A to B.

This is always a difficult undertaking, whether westart with the guess that B is caused by A or that it isnot caused by A. In the case of water-finding, water isfound at depths of 30 feet to 100 feet and more belowthe surface by engineers without the aid of "dousers"every day, and this is so frequent and regular a proceedingthat the percentage of cases in which dousers findwater, that is to say in which B—the discovery of water—followsA (A being the employment of a supposedsensitive douser with or without his twig) does not—sofar as I am able to judge without strict statisticalevidence—exceed the percentage of successes in searchingand digging for water by ordinary intelligent menwithout the introduction of A.

TWO widely-spread "beliefs"—in regard to thecomplicated and not generally familiar subject ofthe reproduction of animals—are, in addition to thatdealt with in the last chapter, examples of the unjustifiedand primitive mode of forming a conclusion known as"post hoc ergo propter hoc." I refer, firstly, to thebelief (which I have already mentioned) in the causationof what are called "birth-marks" by "maternal impressions,"by which is meant the seeing of unusual andimpressive things by the mother when with child; and,secondly, to the belief that a thoroughbred mare canbe so affected or infected by the sire (say a zebra) ofone foal as to convey to the foal of a later sire (say, athoroughbred like herself) marks (such as stripes onthe legs) which were not present in the second sire,though present in the first sire. This supposed occurrenceis called "telegony," and is by some personssupposed to occur in dogs, cattle, and other animals,including man, as well as in the horse.

There is little support in ordinary experience for thebelief that birth-marks are caused by maternal impressions,although some of those who are concerned in aprofessional way with breeding operations cling to it.In very ancient times we find that there was a belief in[Pg 397]it, as shown by the story of the patriarch Jacob, who,wishing to obtain the birth of spotted or parti-colouredlambs from a herd of sheep, placed in front of thebreeding ewes stakes or rods from which he had removedthe bark in rings, so as to make them parti-coloured.He was supposed to have been successful in this way inimpressing the visual sense of the maternal ewes with"parti-colouration," and the belief was that they in consequenceproduced dappled or parti-coloured lambs.The belief, though not general, is widespread amongsimple folk that such influences can and do act onanimals, and it has been, and is by some, similarly heldthat a human mother may be influenced by surroundingobjects, so that if her surroundings are beautiful she willproduce a beautiful child. There is absolutely no groundfor this belief—based upon experiment. It is merely anunreasoning assumption of "after this, therefore becauseof this," based upon the incomplete observation of a fewaccidental cases of vague coincidence and a tenaciousclinging to the belief that it is so because it is difficultto prove that it is not so. No trustworthy investigationor experiment on the subject is on record.

But this unwarranted, untested belief, originatingamong barbarous peoples, has led further, owing to theinveterate love of marvels still common among us, tothe notion (surviving to the present day) that the irregularcoloured or obscure marks sometimes found onthe skin of a child at birth, and vaguely resembling ananimal or a fruit, or what not, are due to the motherhaving recently seen, under some sudden and startlingcircumstances, the object which the "birth-mark" on thechild resembles. Thus we have the following storiesrelated in a recent publication ("Sex Antagonism," byWalter Heape, F.R.S.). The author holds that this[Pg 398]strange influence of "maternal impressions" is possible—amatter of comparatively small importance, since thereal question is not as to the "possibility" but simply(as in a whole series of beliefs as to more or less improbableoccurrences) whether there is or is not sufficientevidence that the connexion and influence believed inactually exists. Mr. Heape relates (without giving anydetailed evidence whatever in support of the conclusionwhich he accepts) the supposed case of a red "mark"like a lizard found on a new-born child's breast being"produced" by the fall of a lizard from the ceiling (theevent happened in China) on to its mother's breastshortly before the child's birth. Another case is thatof a woman whose husband was brought home fromwork with his arm lacerated by machinery. Her childwas born soon afterwards, and is stated to have hadmarks on one arm "similar to" those the mother sawon the corresponding arm of her husband. Anotherstory is that of a lady who had a great craving forraspberries before her child was born, and accordinglybore a child with a red raspberry mark on itsbody!

In no case does Mr. Heape give any picture of thebirth-mark and the thing supposed to be represented byit, nor state that he has seen either the mark or a pictureof it. In no case is the statement of the mother as toher having been "influenced" as described in the narration,tested or examined in any way.

These and similar stories are related to-day, andsuch stories have been related from time immemorial.But they are always "hear-say." The witnesses andthe facts are never carefully examined, and the degreeof closeness of the agreement between the mark and itssupposed cause are never really demonstrated. Nor has[Pg 399]anyone undertaken a statistical examination with theview of showing that the vague agreement of the markwith the arresting object seen by the mother is anythingmore than an accidental coincidence, nor (in regard tomany such stories) has it been proved that the motherreally did see or notice any such terrifying object as sheafterwards declares (and possibly thinks) she did. Moreover,no one has carefully and scientifically made crucialexperiments with animals, similar to that of the patriarchJacob. The experiments and their record would notbe difficult with animals. Though some farmers maybelieve that such influences do operate on their breedingdams, there is no known or recognized application ofJacob's method to the production of desired form orcolour in domesticated animals. We are not concernedwith "possibilities." What is needed is a series ofdemonstrative experiments, or critical cases. And theseare, as yet, not forthcoming.

Telegony is the name given to the hypothesis that theoffspring of a known sire sometimes inherit charactersfrom a previous mate of their dam. The name meansreproduction (Greek, gonos) influenced by a remote agent(Greek, tele = from afar). There is no question about"possibility" here. Such an "infection" of a dam by aprevious mate is not improbable. According to Darwin"farmers in South Brazil are convinced that mares whichhave once borne mules, when subsequently put to horses,are extremely liable to produce colts striped like a mule."On the other hand, the Baron de Parana states that hehas many relatives and friends who have large establishmentsfor the rearing of mules where they obtain from400 to 1000 mules in a year. In all these establishments,after two or three crossings of the mare and ass,the breeders cause the mare to be put to a horse; yet[Pg 400]the pure-bred foals so produced have never in a singlecase resembled either an ass or a mule.

A celebrated case to which Darwin attached importancewas that of Lord Morton's mare, reported tothe Royal Society in 1820. This mare, after bearing ahybrid by a quagga (a striped equine related to thezebra) produced, to a black Arabian horse, three foalsshowing a number of stripes, and in one of them morestripes were present than in the quagga hybrid. Thisseems at first sight strong evidence in favour of "infection"of the mare by the early quagga mate. But itappears that stripes are frequently seen in high-casteArab horses, and colts cross-bred from such and otherbreeds of horse sometimes present far more distinct barsacross the legs and other zebra-like markings than wereseen in the late offspring of Lord Morton's Arabian mare.The fact appears to be that all the living species of thehorse family (horses, asses, quaggas, and zebras) aredescended from an ancestry of "striped" equines, andare liable occasionally to "throw back" to their stripedancestry, more or less.

Professor Cossar Ewart determined some years agoto submit the matter to direct experiment, and hasrelated his results in a book ("The Penicuik Experiments,"1899). The South African equine called the quagga,which was that used by Lord Morton, having becomeextinct, Professor Ewart made use of a richly stripedBurchell's zebra. Thirty mares put to this animal producedseventeen hybrids, and subsequently these mares,put to horse-stallions, produced twenty pure-bred foals.All the zebra hybrids were richly and very distinctlystriped. Of the twenty later pure-bred horse-foals fromthe same mares three only presented stripe-like markings[Pg 401]at birth, and these were few and indistinct. They disappearedwhen the foal's coat was shed. Their motherswere Highland mares. But the value of the faintstriping in these three instances as evidence in supportof telegony is at once destroyed by the fact that ProfessorEwart obtained at the same time pure-bred foals fromsimilar Highland mares which had never seen a zebra.Two of these pure-bred Highland foals showed stripesat birth, and one acquired stripes later; and further,whilst the stripes on the foals born after hybrids hadbeen produced by their mothers disappeared with thefoal's coat, the stripes on the three pure-bred colts whosemothers had never been near a zebra persisted for alonger period. Similar experiments confirmed theseresults, showing that traces of striping are no more likelyto occur on the offspring of a mare which has previouslyproduced a mule with a zebra or an ass, than on onewhose dam has neither seen nor been near to a zebraor an ass. Lord Morton's case thus falls to theground.

Breeders of dogs are (or were) even more thoroughlyconvinced of the fact of telegony than breeders of horses.But Sir Everett Millais, who devoted thirty years to thebreeding of dogs and experiments on this question, statesthat he has never seen a case of telegony. And recentexperiments of the most definite kind support his conclusion.Dalmatians, deerhounds, and retrievers havebeen used in these experiments. Many such experimentsin telegony are accidentally or unwittingly made everyyear with dogs. An undesired crossing of two breedstakes place, but when subsequent pure breeding takesplace no "telegonic" infection of the mother is observed.Cases believed to be due to telegony have on examinationproved to be due to the carelessness of stablemen,[Pg 402]who have allowed a dog to escape temporarily from thekennels or to enter them uninvited. The men haveattributed the mongrels so begotten to telegony in orderto conceal their negligence.

Another curious case was that of a rickety spanielpuppy, which was exhibited a few years ago at theZoological Society and believed by the exhibitor to oweits bandy legs to "telegonic" infection of the mother bya dachshund, with which she was supposed to have mateda year or more before being put to the father of thespaniel. Its true nature was at once recognized by theexperts present, the bandy legs being those caused by"rickets," and not like those of the well-known dachshundbreed.

It appears that the explanations widely prevalent ofmany apparently strange things discussed in the precedingchapters, such as live toads buried in rocks, the water-finder'smystic rod, the coincidence of birth-marks andmaternal impressions, and the inheritance of offspringfrom a previous mate of their dam, are hasty and unverifiedsuppositions, which have never been properlytested, and that when the wonder-provoking statementsmade and the actual facts in question are properly andsufficiently examined, according to the rules of evidenceand common sense, it is discovered that the assumptionof occult or exceptional causes in explanation of suchstrange things are not justified, but that these strangethings owe their strangeness in large part to the incorrectand incomplete observation of those who report them,and to that love of marvel and mystery which, like hope,springs eternal in the human breast.

It is a remarkable proof of the reality of the belief[Pg 403]in telegony—though not a proof of the reality of telegony—thatamongst breeders of horses and dogs theselling value of a dam which has borne young to aninferior sire or to one of a distinct species, is largelydiminished as compared with that of a dam which hasbeen mated with a first-rate sire of her own breed.Darwin himself was led, by his inquiries into a similaroccurrence in plants, to favour the notion that a sirecould so "infect" a mare that her offspring by a latersire would in some instances show traces of the charactersof the earlier sire. The parts of a plant which form thecoverings of the fertilized ovule, the "coats" of the seedand the seed-case and fruit, are, of course, parts of thematernal plant. In each of the ovules which grow inthe central part of a flower (the so-called "pistil") is anegg cell like that of an animal. This is "fertilized" bythe pollen-grains which are brought by wind or byinsects from the "stamens" of another flower. Eachpollen-grain thus brought to the surface of the pistilelongates into a delicate filament, and penetrates intoit, and so reaches an egg cell, with which it fuses. Thenthe surrounding tissues grow and swell up, forming theseed coats and the fruit. They are parts of the egg-cell-producingor "mother" flower. Thus the pulp and"rind" or skin of an orange is part of the mother plant,not of the germs or young embedded in the "pips." Itis found that if an orange-flower is deliberately fertilizedby placing on its pistil the pollen-grains of a lemon-flower,not only are the ovules of the orange fertilized,but the surrounding structures, which enlarge to formthe fruit and are parts of the orange plant quite distinctfrom the ovules, also become affected by the pollen. Inone well-observed case when an orange-flower wasfertilized by a gardener with the pollen of a lemon-flower,the skin or rind of the resulting fruit was found to[Pg 404]exhibit stripes of perfectly characterized lemon peel(having the colour and flavour of lemon peel), alternatingwith stripes of the proper orange peel.

The same thing has been observed in apples, melons,orchids, rhododendrons, grapes, maize, and peas, whenone variety has been fertilized by the pollen of another,or when one species has been fertilized by the pollen ofan allied but distinct species. The fruit in these cases(not simply the germ or young plant within it) hasbeen found in some instances to have some of the colour,flavour, or shape and marking of the fertilizing varietyor species blended or else mixed like a patchworkwith that characteristic of the fertilized variety or species.The egg-producing or mother plant not merely has itsovules fertilized, but its tissues for some distance aroundare infected and made to take on—in parts of their living,growing substance—some of the quality of the fertilizingspecies. A similar thing occurs, though rarely, whencuttings of one plant are grafted on to another. Theliving tissue either of graft or of stock, and sometimesof both, is affected by the fusion with it of the tissueof the second plant united with it. And this appearsto be a kind of "infection"—living particles passingfrom one to the other, and producing a mosaic or patchworkof the two kinds of living substance characteristicof each of the united plants.

If an individual flower were to produce in a secondyear after its first fertilization and seed productiona second set of ovules which could be fertilized bya kind of pollen differing from the first, it would notbe surprising did that second set of ovules sometimesshow characteristics due to the infection of the maternaltissues by the pollen used in the first year. But flowers[Pg 405]do not survive and produce ovules in a second year.They are completely used up each year, and drop offas "fruits" from the plant which bears them. Withmany animals, however, the facts are otherwise. Thesame mother produces from the ovary year after yearsuccessive ovules, and it would thus be quite intelligiblethat the fertilizing sperm of one year should frequentlyhave so affected or infected the egg-producing organ orovary as to result in the conveyance to the later cropof egg cells separated from the ovary, some of thequalities of the earlier male parent. These considerationswarrant the guess or "hypothesis" of telegonyin animals. But all such guesses must be put to theproof, and not accepted simply because there is noreason to conclude that they are impossible. As thingsat present stand, there is no evidence, resulting eitherfrom deliberate experiment or from exact observationand record of the natural breeding of animals, to justifyus in holding, as an established fact, that the offspringof a given sire and dam is, even in rare cases, affectedby the previous mating of the dam with another sire.Naturalists would be deeply interested in the productionof even one indisputable instance of this occurrence.

In connexion with this matter it is to be noted thatthe sperm of one drone (her only mate) is retained in aninternal sac or pouch, alive and active, in the queen bee,for some four or five years, and is used by her in successiveseasons for fertilizing her eggs. Similarly it isrecorded by the late Lord Avery that a queen ant keptby him for fourteen years, without access to a male ant,retained to the end of that period the power of producingeggs which developed into worker ants. He concluded thatthe sperm received fourteen years before by this queen froma male ant remained all this time alive and ready for[Pg 406]use in her sperm-receptacle or sac, since it has beenshown that unfertilized eggs in these and allied insectsproduce only drones (males).

Many strange and unwarranted beliefs persist becausemankind prefers to accept an astonishing assertion astrue rather than take the trouble to see whether it is soor not. Thus all antiquity and the later learned worldwrangled about the very existence of Homer's city ofTroy, until Schliemann said, "Don't talk! Dig!" andwith childlike simplicity and directness uncovered ancientTroy. Thus the belief as to St. Swithin and his fortydays of rain has been shown by the simple examinationof the actual records of rainfall to be very far from thetruth, since, though we often have a wet period in Julyand August, St. Swithin's Day is nearly as often freefrom rain in a wet season as the reverse. Forty daysof rain very rarely indeed, in the South of England, havefollowed a wet St. Swithin's Day. The most amusinginstance of the pricking of one of these bubbles of beliefarose from the inquiry by some of the sham philosophersat the Court of King Charles II as to how it comesabout that if a jar holding water be weighed, and thena live fish be placed therein without spilling any of thewater, and the jar, with the fish and the water in it, beagain weighed, there is found to be no increase in theobserved weight. King Charles, it is said, made a betthat this was not so, and that there was nothing toexplain. He referred the matter for decision to thenewly founded "Royal Society for the Promotion ofNatural Knowledge," which at other times he had askedto give him information as to the magic properties of theunicorn's horn and the cause of the movements of therecently imported "sensitive or humble plant." Thebelievers in the marvellous disappearance of the weight[Pg 407]of a fish placed in a bowl of water held forth at greatlength and gave ingenious reasons as to why this is so.But the King said, "Don't chatter; make trial!" Andthe weighing was done, in the King's presence, by someof the Fellows of the Royal Society. It was found thatthe weight of the jar with its contained water was increasedwhen the fish was placed therein by exactly thenumber of ounces which the fish weighed when placedseparately in the balance. So the King won his bet,and the sham philosophers were silenced. The wholespirit of science, as contrasted with that of superstitionand ignorance, is summed up by the Royal Society'smotto, "Nullius in verba" (on no man's assertion!), andthe King's command, "Don't chatter; make trial!"

THE fact that five years ago Mr. Otto Beit, the brotherof the late Mr. Alfred Beit, not only carried out thelatter's intention of giving £50,000 to the promotion ofresearch in connexion with the study of disease and themastery of its causes, but added £150,000 on his ownaccount to the amount originally proposed, producedgreat satisfaction among scientific men, and also in thatlarge body of the public which, at the present day,understands something of the importance to the communityof the minute and thorough study of disease, ofits mode of access to man, and of the possibilities, whichevery day become brighter and clearer, of getting rid ofit altogether. All honour and gratitude are due to Mr.Beit for his generous gift and for his wise appreciation ofthe good which can be done by proper application ofsuch a fund. I have reason to know and to valuethe large-minded interest in science which was shownby the late Mr. Alfred Beit, since he gave me £1000,some twelve years ago, towards the expenses ofexpeditions which I was organizing for the investigationof the natural history of Lake Tanganyika,—expeditionswhich have yielded important scientificresults, and have but recently exhausted the fund thencollected.

It has often occurred to me that wealthy men whowish to devote large sums of money to the promotion ofscientific research find difficulty in carrying out theirintentions, owing to the fact that they do not knowenough about the methods and conditions of scientificdiscovery to enable them to form a definite independentjudgment as to how to assign their money, so as tomake sure that it shall really be employed in the mosteffective way towards the end they have in view—namely,the increase of scientific discovery. They naturallyhave some doubts as to whether the old (or even thenew) Universities can help them as trustees of the moneywhen they see the importance attached by the former toantiquated methods of teaching and examination andobserve their traditional cultivation of certain favouredstudies, with a minimum of activity in research anddiscovery. They mistrust special societies or individualsas advisers in the matter, and sometimes finally spendthe money which they had destined to be the means offurthering scientific discovery upon a costly and ill-consideredarchitectural monstrosity dedicated to science,but of little help to its progress.

In past times various schemes have been adopted bybenevolent men for bequeathing or giving their moneyso as to promote scientific discovery. Very generallythere has been a certain amount of confusion betweentwo distinct purposes—namely, that of creating newknowledge (the discovery of previously unknown thingsand new processes), and that of spreading existingknowledge amongst an increased proportion of thecommunity. An admirable endowment for the latterpurpose is that of Mr. Smithson, a member of the familyof the present Duke of Northumberland, which wasrefused by the British Government for peculiar reasons,[Pg 410]and conveyed by that gentleman to trustees in theUnited States of America about a hundred years ago,where the Smithsonian Institution has vastly aided thespread of science. Another valuable endowment whichhas been administered by special trustees for a stilllonger period is that of the celebrated physician Radcliffe,to whom we owe the scientific and medical library, anastronomical observatory, and travelling fellowships inthe University of Oxford. The greatest sum dedicatedto scientific research in England of late years is thenoble gift of a quarter of a million sterling made byLord Iveagh to the Lister Institute of PreventiveMedicine. There have been not a few generous donorsof smaller sums for like purposes.

An inquiry was set on foot a few years ago inAmerica in order to obtain the opinions of those whohad experience of scientific research and the institutionsintended to promote it in different countries, as to thebest methods to adopt in order to effect such promotion.I do not know whether any report was published, but Iremember that I was consulted on the subject by thelate Professor Simon Newcomb, a foreign member of theRoyal Society and one of the most distinguishedscientific discoverers in the United States. I am quitesure that no general agreement or conclusion on thesubject has been arrived at. So far as I can see, wheneverany high-minded philanthropist desires to devote inthis country a large sum of money to the promotion ofscientific discovery, he is liable to come under theinfluence of highly respectable and eminent personswho, although they have no acquaintance with thenature of scientific discovery and the way in whichit actually takes place, do not hesitate to fix up ascheme based on some antiquated and mistaken model,[Pg 411]which is accepted with simple faith by the benevolentdonor.

Scientific research is a delicate plant, and the secretof the way in which it may be nurtured has not beenrevealed to dignitaries and officials. It is interesting tonote some of the methods which have been tried withthe object of nurturing scientific discovery. In everycase the donor has chosen or created an electing bodyor trustees of which I will say more below. He hasdirected this body to expend his gift with a view to thepromotion of scientific discovery in one of the followingways: (1) in awarding prizes for discoveries made;(2) in terminable stipends to junior and senior workersselected by the trustees and called scholars or fellows,the stipends being given on condition of their holdersdevoting themselves for a few years to the attempt tomake discoveries; (3) in permanent salaries to triedmen, who are thus paid as professors or directors oflaboratories and museums; (4) in providing speciallydesigned buildings and apparatus for research, but nosalaries for the workers; (5) in providing, on whateverscale the fund given permits, groups consisting of aprofessor or director, two or more assistants, attendants,building, apparatus, and the annual income necessary formaterials of investigation and maintenance of the establishment.As to the trustees, or boards of electors,chosen by the donor, they are often some establishedscientific society or some university, or the board maybe specially appointed by him. The last is the bestsort of body, if properly constituted, but not unfrequentlythe perplexed promoter of scientific discovery findshimself assenting to the constitution of what is called "arepresentative body"—say, a bishop, a town councillor,a Secretary of State, a judge, and a university professor,[Pg 412]with other members to be nominated by himself or hisheirs. Such a board fails from a want of knowledge.

The methods of applying the income provided bythe donor are not always such as to produce any markedresult in the direction desired by him. It is generallyagreed among scientific workers and experts that thegiving of prizes or rewards for scientific discovery doesnot tend to increase the output of discoveries, howevercarefully and justly awarded. Though such an awardas the £8000 or £10,000 of the Nobel prizes is a veryagreeable compliment to the man so honoured, and oftenrichly deserved, no one would urge a would-be promoterof scientific discovery to devote his gift to the foundationof prizes. And so, too, with regard to scholarships orfellowships, it is very generally and rightly held thatthey do little or nothing in promoting scientific discoverywhen they are small in value and are only to be held fortwo or three years. When a young man has taken hisuniversity degree in science or medicine a scholarshipor fellowship of £250 a year for three years offers noinducement to him, if he is an able man, to abandon hisregular professional career. If he accepts it, he will havehad no time to go far on the path of discovery beforeit comes to an end, and he will find at the end of histhree years that he has lost that amount of time so faras his profession is concerned, and that there is no lifepost or career open to him in the line in which he hasspent three years—namely, that of a scientific investigator.As a rule, able men will not be drawn off in this wayfrom their professions, but inferior men may be.

The man, on the other hand, who is specially giftedwith the power of scientific discovery will not be affected bysuch temporary fellowships. He will enter on the career[Pg 413]of discovery with or without such inducements. Whatsuch a man (and he is the only sort of man who matters)really requires, and should find open to him, is an assuredcareer. This must take the form in the first place of asmaller post as assistant to a great discoverer, tenablefor twenty years if need be, and subsequently a life post,with laboratory and assistants, when he has proved hispossession of the discoverer's quality. Hence it is thatwhat the benevolent millionaire who wishes to promotescientific discovery should do is to provide life posts,"professorships" or "directorships," for the really greatdiscoverers, who exist often in cramped conditions. Theyshould be of the value of £1500 to £3000 a year—nottoo large a stipend in view of the incomes earned bysuccessful professional men and assigned by Governmentto judges, bishops, colonial governors, senior civil servants,and politicians—with two or three assistantships of £150to £500 a year attached, to be filled up by nominationsmade by the professor himself as vacancies occur. Asum of £7500 a year, that which Mr. Otto Beit has sogenerously given, would pay for one professor, with threeassistants, attendants, and interest on building and maintenancefund. Of course, if such a sum were offered toan existing institution where buildings and other conveniencesare already provided, two research professorsand their assistants could be paid for where one onlywould be possible if building and service had to beprovided. There are buildings and laboratories inLondon and elsewhere provided by beneficent founderswithout stipends for directors and assistants, and thereare already a good many young graduates drawing terminableinadequate stipends in succession to one anotherfrom great foundations. The difficulty is to bring aboutthe combination of adequate funds for the chief and forthe graduated minor posts, and for a well-equipped[Pg 414]laboratory. When that is done, as it sometimes, thoughrarely, is, the only further difficulty is how to choose areal man, an inspired, inspiring discoverer. There isonly one way.

Real discoverers are extremely rare—great ones arerecognized about once in fifty years in any one largebranch of science. There may be others wanderingabout—undiscovered discoverers. The only people whocan discover them are men like themselves. Hence, inGerman universities and all wisely managed institutionsfor the promotion of scientific discovery, they give thepower of choosing new discoverers to those discoverersalready belonging to the university or institution, andthey take care that all the electors are vitally interestedfor the honour, credit, and pecuniary success of their university.These conditions can be arranged and broughtinto healthy action by care and understanding. But thewhole fabric may go to pieces, and jobbery and jealousyprevail (as has sometimes happened in England) if careis not taken to identify the personal interests of theelectors (brother professors) with the honest exercise oftheir capacity to choose a real discoverer to fill a vacancywhen it occurs, or if an ignorant council of "superiorpersons" is allowed to interfere.

To find these great discoverers is, indeed, no lighttask. They have to be looked for by the State, firstly,in the primary schools; the net has to be drawn and theminor fishes allowed to escape, whilst the strong andpromising are sent on to high schools. Then again,after further sifting, some are passed on to the specialcollege, then a selection to the university, and at lastone or two a year may be chosen as assistants to anestablished and inspiring discoverer. Seven, ten, or[Pg 415]fifteen years later one out of all his fellows and predecessorsis recognized as the incomparable teacher anddiscoverer—the inspirer of others, the one great man ofhalf a century. He must be chosen by his colleagues,his fellow-workers, not by political wire-pullers nor byany variety of social "Bumble." He is given laboratoriesand assistants, and men come to consult him, tosit under him, work for him, from all parts of the world.Louis Pasteur was such a man. Huxley pointed out bywhat a vast public expenditure Pasteur was graduallysifted out from his fellows, and made professor in theNormal School of Paris. Of course, a good manyinferior people got a share of the training provided,and did some unimportant things; but if we put themaside it is perfectly true (as a calculation of the expensesof the whole network of State-supported schools andcolleges and bursaries through which he passed will show)that the capture or discovery of Pasteur cost the Frenchnation about £25,000,000. He was worth it, not onlyto France, but to every other nationality—and more, too,more than can be measured by gold. His name,honoured throughout the world on account of thesplendid discoveries associated with it, gave self-respect,courage, and healthy pride to France at a time whenshe had cruelly suffered. Ten years ago the mostpopular newspaper in France took a "plebiscite" todetermine who, in the general estimation of the Frenchpeople, was the greatest Frenchman of the nineteenthcentury—the century which included the first Napoleon,Victor Hugo, Gambetta. The vote was given by somemillions, and resulted in a majority for Louis Pasteur.Would Englishmen have shown such discernment?Such a man is absolutely necessary as the head of anygreat institute which exists for the purpose of scientificdiscovery. Such men, smaller it may be, but of the same[Pg 416]inspiring quality, are the only men fit to be universityprofessors. It is because there are still such men at theInstitut Pasteur that it remains a great seat of discovery.It is because they have not such men, and that thereis no intelligent attempt to get them, that many wealthyinstitutions in our own country fail to produce scientificfruit.

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CHAP.		PAGE
I.	On a Norwegian Fiord	1
II.	Nature-Reserves	13
III.	Far from the Madding Crowd	23
IV.	The Great Grey Seal	32
V.	The Grouse and other Birds	41
VI.	The Sand and Pebbles of the Seashore	48
VII.	The Constituents of a Seabeach	55
VIII.	Quicksands and Fire-Stones	64
IX.	Amber	70
X.	Sea-Worms and Sea-Anemones	77
XI.	Coral-Makers and Jelly-Fish	88
XII.	Shrimps, Crabs, and Barnacles	98
XIII.	Barnacles and other Crustaceans	108
XIV.	The History of the Barnacle and the Goose	117
XV.	More as to the Barnacle and the Goose	129
XVI.	Sea-Shells on the Seashore	142
XVII.	[Pg x]Sand-Hoppers	152
XVIII.	A Swiss Interlude	160
XIX.	Science and Dancing	170
XX.	Courtship	180
XXI.	Courtship in Animals and Man	189
XXII.	Courtship and Display	197
XXIII.	Courtship, Instinct and Reason	205
XXIV.	Daddy-Long-Legs	216
XXV.	The Moth and the Candle	226
XXVI.	From Ape to Man	236
XXVII.	The Skeleton of Apes and of Man	245
XXVIII.	The Brain of Apes and of Man	253
XXIX.	The Mind of Apes and of Man	262
XXX.	The Missing Link	275
XXXI.	The Supply of Pure Milk	292
XXXII.	Christmas Trees and other Pine Trees	302
XXXIII.	The Lymph and the Lymphatic System	332
XXXIV.	The Blood and its Circulation	342
XXXV.	Fish and Fast Days	351
XXXVI.	Science and the Unknown	361
XXXVII.	[Pg xi]Divination and Palmistry	367
XXXVIII.	Toads found Living in Stone	376
XXXIX.	The Divining-Rod	383
XL.	Birth-Marks and Telegony	396
XLI.	How to promote Scientific Discovery by Money	408
	Index	417

	The Weymouth Anemone, Actinoloba Dianthus, and the contorted Tube-worm Serpula Contortuplicata	Frontispiece
FIG.		PAGE
1.	A Portion of the Branching Tubular Growth formed by Rhabdopleura Normani	5
2.	One of the Polyps of Rhabdopleura	7
3.	A Piece of the White Branching Coral (Lophohelia prolifera)	9
4.	British Marine Worms or Chætopods	78
5.	The Shell of the Heart-urchin (Spatangus purpureus) with its Spines rubbed off	80
6.	British Sea-anemones	85
7.	A Common British Jelly-fish	94
8.	A Common British Jelly-fish	96
9.	The Larval or Young Form of Crustacea known as "the Nauplius"	105
10.	The Common Ship's Barnacle, Lepas anatifera	109
11.	A Large British Sea-acorn, Balanus porcatus	110
12.	Two Stages in the Growth of the Common Barnacle from the Nauplius Stage	112
13.	The Picture of the "Goose Tree," copied from [Pg xiv]the First Edition of Gerard's "Herbal"	123
14.	Fanciful Designs by Mykenæan Artists, showing Change of the Cuttlefish (Octopus or "Poulpe") into a Bull's Head and other Shapes	131
15.	The Goose and the Barnacle	133
16.	Copy of a Series of Modified Geese painted on an early Mykenæan Pot, figured by M. Perrot	134
17.	Two Drawings on Pottery of Modified Geese, from Perrot's "Ossuaire de Crète"	135
18.	Leaves from the Tree, drawn on a Mykenæan Pot	136
19.	Some British Marine Bivalve Molluscs	144
20.	The Two Common Kinds of "Sand-hopper"	153
21.	A Phosphorescent Shrimp (Euphausia pellucida)	154
22.	The Crane-fly (Daddy-Long-Legs), Tipula oleracea	217
23.	Comparison of the Right Half of the Lower Jaw of A, Modern European; B, Eoanthropus from Piltdown; and C, Chimpanzee	277
24.	Diagrams of the Lower Surface of the Lower Jaw of A, Man; B, The Eoanthropus of Piltdown (The Left Half Re-constructed); and C, The Chimpanzee	283
25.	The Piltdown Jaw and the Heidelberg Jaw	286
26.	The Canine Tooth of the Right Side of the Lower Jaw of Eoanthropus Dawsoni	287
27.	Canine Tooth of the Right Side of the Lower Jaw of a European Child, Milk Dentition	287
28.	The Piltdown Jaw (Eoanthropus)	288
29.	Complete Skull and Jaw of Eoanthropus Dawsoni	290
30.	[Pg xv]The Complete Skull and Jaw of a Young Chimpanzee	290
31.	A Fertile Branch of the Scots Fir, Pinus sylvestris	305
32.	The Common Yew, Taxus baccata	310
33.	A Thin Slice across One of the Foliage Needles of the Common Spruce	314
34.	A Thin Slice across One of the Foliage Needles of the Silver Fir	315
35.	The Upright Female Cone of the Silver Fir, Abies pectinata	316
36.	Structure of the Female Cone of the Silver Fir	317
37.	The Female Cone of the Common Spruce, Picea excelsa	318
38.	The Female Cone and the Foliage of the Common Larch, Larix Europœa	319
39.	Female Cone of the Pinaster, or Maritime Pine (Pinus pinaster)	323
40.	Female Cone of the Monterey Pine of California (Pinus insignis)	325
41.	Female Cone of Pinus muricata	326
42.	Female Cone of the Douglas Fir of North-West America, Pseudotsuga Douglasii	327
43.	The Fore-arm of Man, with the Skin removed so as to show the Large Superficial Lymphatic Vessels resting on the Muscles	334

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The Project Gutenberg eBook ofDiversions of a Naturalist

DIVERSIONS OF A NATURALIST

PREFACE

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER ION A NORWEGIAN FIORD

CHAPTER IINATURE-RESERVES

CHAPTER IIIFAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD

CHAPTER IVTHE GREAT GREY SEAL

CHAPTER VTHE GROUSE AND OTHER BIRDS

CHAPTER VITHE SAND AND PEBBLES OF THE SEASHORE

CHAPTER VIITHE CONSTITUENTS OF A SEABEACH

CHAPTER VIIIQUICKSANDS AND FIRE-STONES

CHAPTER IXAMBER

CHAPTER XSEA-WORMS AND SEA-ANEMONES

CHAPTER XICORAL-MAKERS AND JELLY-FISH

CHAPTER XIISHRIMPS, CRABS, AND BARNACLES

CHAPTER XIIIBARNACLES AND OTHER CRUSTACEANS

CHAPTER XIVTHE HISTORY OF THE BARNACLE AND THEGOOSE

CHAPTER XVMORE AS TO THE BARNACLE AND THEGOOSE

CHAPTER XVISEA-SHELLS ON THE SEASHORE

CHAPTER XVIISAND-HOPPERS

CHAPTER XVIIIA SWISS INTERLUDE

CHAPTER XIXSCIENCE AND DANCING

CHAPTER XXCOURTSHIP

CHAPTER XXICOURTSHIP IN ANIMALS AND MAN

CHAPTER XXIICOURTSHIP AND DISPLAY

CHAPTER XXIIICOURTSHIP, INSTINCT AND REASON

CHAPTER XXIVDADDY-LONG-LEGS

CHAPTER XXVTHE MOTH AND THE CANDLE

CHAPTER XXVIFROM APE TO MAN

CHAPTER XXVIITHE SKELETON OF APES AND OF MAN

CHAPTER XXVIIITHE BRAIN OF APES AND OF MAN

CHAPTER XXIXTHE MIND OF APES AND OF MAN

CHAPTER XXXTHE MISSING LINK

CHAPTER XXXITHE SUPPLY OF PURE MILK

CHAPTER XXXIICHRISTMAS TREES AND OTHER PINE TREES

CHAPTER XXXIIITHE LYMPH AND THE LYMPHATIC SYSTEM

CHAPTER XXXIVTHE BLOOD AND ITS CIRCULATION

CHAPTER XXXVFISH AND FAST DAYS

CHAPTER XXXVISCIENCE AND THE UNKNOWN

CHAPTER XXXVIIDIVINATION AND PALMISTRY

CHAPTER XXXVIIITOADS FOUND LIVING IN STONE

CHAPTER XXXIXTHE DIVINING-ROD

CHAPTER XLBIRTH-MARKS AND TELEGONY

CHAPTER XLIHOW TO PROMOTE SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERYBY MONEY

INDEX

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

CHAPTER I

ON A NORWEGIAN FIORD

CHAPTER II

NATURE-RESERVES

CHAPTER III

FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD

CHAPTER IV

THE GREAT GREY SEAL

CHAPTER V

THE GROUSE AND OTHER BIRDS

CHAPTER VI

THE SAND AND PEBBLES OF THE SEASHORE

CHAPTER VII

THE CONSTITUENTS OF A SEABEACH

CHAPTER VIII

QUICKSANDS AND FIRE-STONES

CHAPTER IX

AMBER

CHAPTER X

SEA-WORMS AND SEA-ANEMONES

CHAPTER XI

CORAL-MAKERS AND JELLY-FISH

CHAPTER XII

SHRIMPS, CRABS, AND BARNACLES

CHAPTER XIII

BARNACLES AND OTHER CRUSTACEANS

CHAPTER XIV

THE HISTORY OF THE BARNACLE AND THE
GOOSE

CHAPTER XV

MORE AS TO THE BARNACLE AND THE
GOOSE

CHAPTER XVI

SEA-SHELLS ON THE SEASHORE

CHAPTER XVII

SAND-HOPPERS

CHAPTER XVIII

A SWISS INTERLUDE

CHAPTER XIX

SCIENCE AND DANCING

CHAPTER XX

COURTSHIP

CHAPTER XXI

COURTSHIP IN ANIMALS AND MAN

CHAPTER XXII

COURTSHIP AND DISPLAY

CHAPTER XXIII

COURTSHIP, INSTINCT AND REASON

CHAPTER XXIV

DADDY-LONG-LEGS

CHAPTER XXV

THE MOTH AND THE CANDLE

CHAPTER XXVI

FROM APE TO MAN

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SKELETON OF APES AND OF MAN

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE BRAIN OF APES AND OF MAN

CHAPTER XXIX

THE MIND OF APES AND OF MAN

CHAPTER XXX

THE MISSING LINK

CHAPTER XXXI

THE SUPPLY OF PURE MILK

CHAPTER XXXII

CHRISTMAS TREES AND OTHER PINE TREES

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE LYMPH AND THE LYMPHATIC SYSTEM

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE BLOOD AND ITS CIRCULATION

CHAPTER XXXV

FISH AND FAST DAYS

CHAPTER XXXVI

SCIENCE AND THE UNKNOWN

CHAPTER XXXVII

DIVINATION AND PALMISTRY

CHAPTER XXXVIII

TOADS FOUND LIVING IN STONE

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE DIVINING-ROD

CHAPTER XL

BIRTH-MARKS AND TELEGONY

CHAPTER XLI

HOW TO PROMOTE SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY
BY MONEY