MR. MIVART AND MR. DARWIN.
“A DISTINGUISHED zoologist, Mr. St. George Mivart,” writes Mr. Darwin,
“has recently collected all the objections which have ever been advanced
by myself and others against the theory of natural selection, as
propounded by Mr. Wallace and myself, and has illustrated them with
admirable art and force” (“Natural Selection,” p. 176, ed. 1876). I have
already referred the reader to Mr. Mivart’s work, but quote the above
passage as showing that Mr. Mivart will not, probably, be found to have
left much unsaid that would appear to make against Mr. Darwin’s theory.
It is incumbent upon me both to see how far Mr. Mivart’s objections are
weighty as against Mr. Darwin, and also whether or not they tell with
equal force against the view which I am myself advocating. I will
therefore touch briefly upon the most important of them, with the purpose
of showing that they are serious as against the doctrine that small
fortuitous variations are the origin of species, but that they have no
force against evolution as guided by intelligence and memory.
But before doing this, I would demur to the words used by Mr. Darwin, and
just quoted above, namely, “the theory of natural selection.” I imagine
that I see in them the fallacy which I believe to run through almost all
Mr. Darwin’s work, namely, that “natural selection” is a theory (if,
indeed, it can be a theory at all), in some way accounting for the origin
of variation, and so of species—“natural selection,” as we have already
seen, being unable to “induce variability,” and being only able to
accumulate what—on the occasion of each successive variation, and so
during the whole process—must have been originated by something else.
Again, Mr. Darwin writes—“In considering the origin of species it is
quite conceivable that a naturalist, reflecting on the mutual affinities
of organic beings, or their embryological relations, their geographical
distribution, geological succession, and other such facts, might come to
the conclusion that species had not been independently created, but had
descended, like varieties from other species. Nevertheless, such a
conclusion, even if well founded, would be unsatisfactory, until it could
be shown how the innumerable species inhabiting this world had been
modified, so as to acquire that perfection of structure and co-adaptation
which justly excites our admiration” (“Origin of Species,” p. 2, ed.
1876).
After reading the above we feel that nothing more satisfactory could be
desired. We are sure that we are in the hands of one who can indeed tell
us “how the innumerable species inhabiting this world have been
modified,” and we are no less sure that though others may have written
upon the subject before, there has been, as yet, no satisfactory
explanation put forward of the grand principle upon which modification
has proceeded. Then follows a delightful volume, with facts upon facts
concerning animals, all showing that species is due to successive small
modifications accumulated in the course of nature. But one cannot
suppose that Lamarck ever doubted this; for he can never have meant to
say, that a low form of life made itself into an elephant at one or two
great bounds; and if he did not mean this, he must have meant that it
made itself into an elephant through the accumulation of small successive
modifications; these, he must have seen, were capable of accumulation in
the scheme of nature, though he may not have dwelt on the manner in which
this is accomplished, inasmuch as it is obviously a matter of secondary
importance in comparison with the origin of the variations themselves.
We believe, however, throughout Mr. Darwin’s book, that we are being told
what we expected to be told; and so convinced are we, by the facts
adduced, that in some way or other evolution must be true, and so
grateful are we for being allowed to think this, that we put down the
volume without perceiving that, whereas Lamarck _did_ adduce a great and
general cause of variation, the insufficiency of which, in spite of
errors of detail, has yet to be shown, Mr. Darwin’s main cause of
variation resolves itself into a confession of ignorance.
This, however, should detract but little from our admiration for Mr.
Darwin’s achievement. Any one can make people see a thing if he puts it
in the right way, but Mr. Darwin made us see evolution, in spite of his
having put it, in what seems to not a few, an exceedingly mistaken way.
Yet his triumph is complete, for no matter how much any one now moves the
foundation, he cannot shake the superstructure, which has become so
currently accepted as to be above the need of any support from reason,
and to be as difficult to destroy as it was originally difficult of
construction. Less than twenty years ago, we never met with, or heard
of, any one who accepted evolution; we did not even know that such a
doctrine had been ever broached; unless it was that some one now and
again said that there was a very dreadful book going about like a rampant
lion, called “Vestiges of Creation,” whereon we said that we would on no
account read it, lest it should shake our faith; then we would shake our
heads and talk of the preposterous folly and wickedness of such shallow
speculations. Had not the book of Genesis been written for our learning?
Yet, now, who seriously disputes the main principles of evolution? I
cannot believe that there is a bishop on the bench at this moment who
does not accept them; even the “holy priests” themselves bless evolution
as their predecessors blessed Cleopatra—when they ought not. It is not
he who first conceives an idea, nor he who sets it on its legs and makes
it go on all fours, but he who makes other people accept the main
conclusion, whether on right grounds or on wrong ones, who has done the
greatest work as regards the promulgation of an opinion. And this is
what Mr. Darwin has done for evolution. He has made us think that we
know the origin of species, and so of genera, in spite of his utmost
efforts to assure us that we know nothing of the causes from which the
vast majority of modifications have arisen—that is to say, he has made us
think we know the whole road, though he has almost ostentatiously
blindfolded us at every step of the journey. But to the end of time, if
the question be asked, “Who taught people to believe in evolution?” there
can only be one answer—that it was Mr. Darwin.
* * * * *
Mr. Mivart urges with much force the difficulty of _starting_ any
modification on which “natural selection” is to work, and of getting a
creature to vary in any definite direction. Thus, after quoting from Mr.
Wallace some of the wonderful cases of “mimicry” which are to be found
among insects, he writes:—
“Now, let us suppose that the ancestors of these various animals were all
destitute of the very special protection they at present possess, as on
the Darwinian hypothesis we must do. Let it be also conceded that small
deviations from the antecedent colouring or form would tend to make some
of their ancestors escape destruction, by causing them more or less
frequently to be passed over or mistaken by their persecutors. Yet the
deviation must, as the event has shown, in each case, be in some definite
direction, whether it be towards some other animal or plant, or towards
some dead or inorganic matter. But as, according to Mr. Darwin’s theory,
there is a constant tendency to indefinite variation, and as the minute
incipient variations will be _in all directions_, they must tend to
neutralise each other, and at first to form such unstable modifications,
that it is difficult, if not impossible, to see how such indefinite
modifications of insignificant beginnings can ever build up a
sufficiently appreciable resemblance to a leaf, bamboo, or other object
for “natural selection,” to seize upon and perpetuate. This difficulty
is augmented when we consider—a point to be dwelt upon hereafter—how
necessary it is that many individuals should be similarly modified
simultaneously. This has been insisted on in an able article in the
‘North British Review’ for June 1867, p. 286, and the consideration of
the article has occasioned Mr. Darwin” (“Origin of Species,” 5th ed., p.
104) “to make an important modification in his views” (“Genesis of
Species,” p. 38).
To this Mr. Darwin rejoins:—
“But in all the foregoing cases the insects in their original state, no
doubt, presented some rude and accidental resemblance to an object
commonly found in the stations frequented by them. Nor is this
improbable, considering the almost infinite number of surrounding
objects, and the diversity of form and colour of the host of insects that
exist” (“Natural Selection,” p. 182, ed. 1876).
Mr. Mivart has just said: “It is difficult to see how such indefinite
modifications of insignificant beginnings _can ever build up a
sufficiently appreciable resemblance to a leaf_, _bamboo_, _or other
object_, _for_ ‘_natural selection_’ _to work upon_.”
The answer is, that “natural selection” did not begin to work _until_,
_from unknown causes_, _an appreciable resemblance had nevertheless been
presented_. I think the reader will agree with me that the development
of the lowest life into a creature which bears even “a rude resemblance”
to the objects commonly found in the station in which it is moving in its
present differentiation, requires more explanation than is given by the
word “accidental.”
Mr. Darwin continues: “As some rude resemblance is necessary for the
first start,” &c.; and a little lower he writes: “Assuming that an insect
originally happened to resemble in some degree a dead twig or a decayed
leaf, and that it varied slightly in many ways, then all the variations
which rendered the insect at all more like any such object, and thus
favoured its escape, would be preserved, while other variations would be
neglected, and ultimately lost, or if they rendered the insect at all
less like the imitated object, they would be eliminated.”
But here, again, we are required to begin with Natural Selection when the
work is already in great part done, owing to causes about which we are
left completely in the dark; we may, I think, fairly demur to the insects
_originally_ happening to resemble in some degree a dead twig or a
decayed leaf. And when we bear in mind that the variations, being
supposed by Mr. Darwin to be indefinite, or devoid of aim, will appear in
every direction, we cannot forget what Mr. Mivart insists upon, namely,
that the chances of many favourable variations being counteracted by
other unfavourable ones in the same creature are not inconsiderable.
Nor, again, is it likely that the favourable variation would make its
mark upon the race, and escape being absorbed in the course of a few
generations, unless—as Mr. Mivart elsewhere points out, in a passage to
which I shall call the reader’s attention presently—a larger number of
similarly varying creatures made their appearance at the same time than
there seems sufficient reason to anticipate, if the variations can be
called fortuitous.
“There would,” continues Mr. Darwin, “indeed be force in Mr. Mivart’s
objection if we were to attempt to account for the above resemblances,
independently of ‘natural selection,’ through mere fluctuating
variability; but as the case stands, there is none.”
This comes to saying that, if there was no power in nature which operates
so that of all the many fluctuating variations, those only are preserved
which tend to the resemblance which is beneficial to the creature, then
indeed there would be difficulty in understanding how the resemblance
could have come about; but that as there is a beneficial resemblance to
start with, and as there is a power in nature which would preserve and
accumulate further beneficial resemblance, should it arise from this
cause or that, the difficulty is removed. But Mr. Mivart does not, I
take it, deny the existence of such a power in nature, as Mr. Darwin
supposes, though, if I understand him rightly, he does not see that its
operation _upon small fortuitous variations_ is at all the simple and
obvious process, which on a superficial view of the case it would appear
to be. He thinks—and I believe the reader will agree with him—that this
process is too slow and too risky. What he wants to know is, how the
insect came even rudely to resemble the object, and how, if its
variations are indefinite, we are ever to get into such a condition as to
be able to report progress, owing to the constant liability of the
creature which has varied favourably, to play the part of Penelope and
undo its work, by varying in some one of the infinite number of other
directions which are open to it—all of which, except this one, tend to
destroy the resemblance, and yet may be in some other respect even more
advantageous to the creature, and so tend to its preservation. Moreover,
here, too, I think (though I cannot be sure), we have a recurrence of the
original fallacy in the words—“If we were to account for the above
resemblances, independently of ‘natural selection,’ through mere
fluctuating variability.” Surely Mr. Darwin does, after all, “account
for the resemblances through mere fluctuating variability,” for “natural
selection” does not account for one single variation in the whole list of
them from first to last, other than indirectly, as shewn in the preceding
chapter.
It is impossible for me to continue this subject further; but I would beg
the reader to refer to other paragraphs in the neighbourhood of the one
just quoted, in which he may—though I do not think he will—see reason to
think that I should have given Mr. Darwin’s answer more fully. I do not
quote Mr. Darwin’s next paragraph, inasmuch as I see no great difficulty
about “the last touches of perfection in mimicry,” provided Mr. Darwin’s
theory will account for any mimicry at all. If it could do this, it
might as well do more; but a strong impression is left on my mind, that
without the help of something over and above the power to vary, which
should give a definite aim to variations, all the “natural selection” in
the world would not have prevented stagnation and self-stultification,
owing to the indefinite tendency of the variations, which thus could not
have developed either a preyer or a preyee, but would have gone round and
round and round the primordial cell till they were weary of it.
As against Mr. Darwin, therefore, I think that the objection just given
from Mr. Mivart is fatal. I believe, also, that the reader will feel the
force of it much more strongly if he will turn to Mr. Mivart’s own pages.
Against the view which I am myself supporting, the objection breaks down
entirely, for grant “a little dose of judgement and reason” on the part
of the creature itself—grant also continued personality and memory—and a
definite tendency is at once given to the variations. The process is
thus started, and is kept straight, and helped forward through every
stage by “the little dose of reason,” &c., which enabled it to take its
first step. We are, in fact, no longer without a helm, but can steer
each creature that is so discontented with its condition, as to make a
serious effort to better itself, into _some_—and into a very
distant—harbour.
* * * * *
It has been objected against Mr. Darwin’s theory that if all species and
genera have come to differ through the accumulation of minute but—as a
general rule—fortuitous variations, there has not been time enough, so
far as we are able to gather, for the evolution of all existing forms by
so slow a process. On this subject I would again refer the reader to Mr.
Mivart’s book, from which I take the following:—
“Sir William Thompson has lately advanced arguments from three distinct
lines of inquiry agreeing in one approximate result. The three lines of
inquiry are—(1) the action of the tides upon the earth’s rotation; (2)
the probable length of time during which the sun has illuminated this
planet; and (3) the temperature of the interior of the earth. The result
arrived at by these investigations is a conclusion that the existing
state of things on the earth, life on the earth, all geological history
showing continuity of life, must be limited within some such period of
past time as one hundred million years. The first question which
suggests itself, supposing Sir W. Thompson’s views to be correct, is: Has
this period been anything like enough for the evolution of all organic
forms by ‘natural selection’? The second is: Has the period been
anything like enough for the deposition of the strata which must have
been deposited if all organic forms have been evolved by minute steps,
according to the Darwinian theory?” (“Genesis of Species,” p. 154).
Mr. Mivart then quotes from Mr. Murphy—whose work I have not seen—the
following passage:—
“Darwin justly mentions the greyhound as being equal to any natural
species in the perfect co-ordination of its parts, ‘all adapted for
extreme fleetness and for running down weak prey.’ Yet it is an
artificial species (and not physiologically a species at all) formed by a
long-continued selection under domestication; and there is no reason to
suppose that any of the variations which have been selected to form it
have been other than gradual and almost imperceptible. Suppose that it
has taken five hundred years to form the greyhound out of his wolf-like
ancestor. This is a mere guess, but it gives the order of magnitude.
Now, if so, how long would it take to obtain an elephant from a protozoon
or even from a tadpole-like fish? Ought it not to take much more than a
million times as long?” (“Genesis of Species,” p. 155).
I should be very sorry to pronounce any opinion upon the foregoing data;
but a general impression is left upon my mind, that if the differences
between an elephant and a tadpole-like fish have arisen from the
accumulation of small variations that have had no direction given them by
intelligence and sense of needs, then no time conceivable by man would
suffice for their development. But grant “a little dose of reason and
judgement,” even to animals low down in the scale of nature, and grant
this, not only during their later life, but during their embryological
existence, and see with what infinitely greater precision of aim and with
what increased speed the variations would arise. Evolution entirely
unaided by inherent intelligence must be a very slow, if not quite
inconceivable, process. Evolution helped by intelligence would still be
slow, but not so desperately slow. One can conceive that there has been
sufficient time for the second, but one cannot conceive it for the first.
* * * * *
I find from Mr. Mivart that objection has been taken to Mr. Darwin’s
views, on account of the great odds that exist against the appearance of
any given variation at one and the same time, in a sufficient number of
individuals, to prevent its being obliterated almost as soon as produced
by the admixture of unvaried blood which would so greatly preponderate
around it; and indeed the necessity for a nearly simultaneous and similar
variation, or readiness so to vary on the part of many individuals, seems
almost a postulate for evolution at all. On this subject Mr. Mivart
writes:—
“The ‘North British Review’ (speaking of the supposition that species is
changed by the survival of a few individuals in a century through a
similar and favourable variation) says—
“‘It is very difficult to see how this can be accomplished, even when the
variation is eminently favourable indeed; and still more, when the
advantage gained is very slight, as must generally be the case. The
advantage, whatever it may be, is utterly outbalanced by numerical
inferiority. A million creatures are born; ten thousand survive to
produce offspring. One of the million has twice as good a chance as any
other of surviving, but the chances are fifty to one against the gifted
individuals being one of the hundred survivors. No doubt the chances are
twice as great against any other individual, but this does not prevent
their being enormously in favour of _some_ average individual. However
slight the advantage may be, if it is shared by half the individuals
produced, it will probably be present in at least fifty-one of the
survivors, and in a larger proportion of their offspring; but the chances
are against the preservation of any one “sport” (_i.e._, sudden marked
variation) in a numerous tribe. The vague use of an
imperfectly-understood doctrine of chance, has led Darwinian supporters,
first, to confuse the two cases above distinguished, and secondly, to
imagine that a very slight balance in favour of some individual sport
must lead to its perpetuation. All that can be said is that in the above
example the favoured sport would be preserved once in fifty times. Let
us consider what will be its influence on the main stock when preserved.
It will breed and have a progeny of say 100; now this progeny will, on
the whole, be intermediate between the average individual and the sport.
The odds in favour of one of this generation of the new breed will be,
say one and a half to one, as compared with the average individual; the
odds in their favour will, therefore, be less than that of their parents;
but owing to their greater number the chances are that about one and a
half of them would survive. Unless these breed together—a most
improbable event—their progeny would again approach the average
individual; there would be 150 of them, and their superiority would be,
say in the ratio of one and a quarter to one; the probability would now
be that nearly two of them would survive, and have 200 children with an
eighth superiority. Rather more than two of these would survive; but the
superiority would again dwindle; until after a few generations it would
no longer be observed, and would count for no more in the struggle for
life than any of the hundred trifling advantages which occur in the
ordinary organs.
“‘An illustration will bring this conception home. Suppose a white man
to have been wrecked on an island inhabited by negroes, and to have
established himself in friendly relations with a powerful tribe, whose
customs he has learnt. Suppose him to possess the physical strength,
energy, and ability of a dominant white race, and let the food of the
island suit his constitution; grant him every advantage which we can
conceive a white to possess over the native; concede that in the struggle
for existence, his chance of a long life will be much superior to that of
the native chiefs; yet from all these admissions there does not follow
the conclusion, that after a limited or unlimited number of generations,
the inhabitants of the island will be white. Our shipwrecked hero would
probably become king; he would kill a great many blacks in the struggle
for existence; he would have a great many wives and children . . . In the
first generation there will be some dozens of intelligent young
mulattoes, much superior in average intelligence to the negroes. We
might expect the throne for some generations to be occupied by a more or
less yellow king; but can any one believe that the whole island will
gradually acquire a white, or even a yellow population? . . . Darwin
says, that in the struggle for life a grain may turn the balance in
favour of a given structure, which will then be preserved. But one of
the weights in the scale of nature is due to the number of a given tribe.
Let there be 7000 A’s and 7000 B’s representing two varieties of a given
animal, and let all the B’s, in virtue of a slight difference of
structure, have the better chance by one-thousandth part. We must allow
that there is a slight probability that the descendants of B will
supplant the descendants of A; but let there be 7001 A’s against 7000 B’s
at first, and the chances are once more equal, while if there be 7002 A’s
to start, the odds would be laid on the A’s. Thus they stand a greater
chance of being killed; but, then, they can better afford to be killed.
The grain will only turn the scales when these are very nicely balanced,
and an advantage in numbers counts for weight, even as an advantage in
structure. As the numbers of the favoured variety diminish, so must its
relative advantages increase, if the chance of its existence is to
surpass the chance of its extinction, until hardly any conceivable
advantage would enable the descendants of a single pair to exterminate
the descendants of many thousands, if they and their descendants are
supposed to breed freely with the inferior variety, and so gradually lose
their ascendancy,’” (“North British Review,” June 1867, p. 286 “Genesis
of Species,” p. 64, and onwards).
Against this it should be remembered that there is always an antecedent
probability that several specimens of a given variation would appear at
one time and place. This would probably be the case even on Mr. Darwin’s
hypothesis, that the variations are fortuitous; if they are mainly guided
by sense of need and intelligence, it would almost certainly be so, for
all would have much the same idea as to their well-being, and the same
cause which would lead one to vary in this direction would lead not a few
others to do so at the same time, or to follow suit. Thus we see that
many human ideas and inventions have been conceived independently but
simultaneously. The chances, moreover, of specimens that have varied
successfully, intermarrying, are, I think, greater than the reviewer
above quoted from would admit. I believe that on the hypothesis that the
variations are fortuitous, and certainly on the supposition that they are
intelligent, they might be looked for in members of the same family, who
would hence have a better chance of finding each other out. Serious as
is the difficulty advanced by the reviewer as against Mr. Darwin’s
theory, it may be in great measure parried without departing from Mr.
Darwin’s own position, but the “little dose of judgement and reason”
removes it, absolutely and entirely. As for the reviewer’s shipwrecked
hero, surely the reviewer must know that Mr. Darwin would no more expect
an island of black men to be turned white, or even perceptibly whitened
after a few generations, than the reviewer himself would do so. But if
we turn from what “might” or what “would” happen to what “does” happen,
we find that a few white families have nearly driven the Indian from the
United States, the Australian natives from Australia, and the Maories
from New Zealand. True, these few families have been helped by
immigration; but it will be admitted that this has only accelerated a
result which would otherwise, none the less surely, have been effected.
There is all the difference between a sudden sport, or even a variety
introduced from a foreign source, and the gradual, intelligent, and, in
the main, steady, growth of a race towards ends always a little, but not
much, in advance of what it can at present compass, until it has reached
equilibrium with its surroundings. So far as Mr. Darwin’s variations are
of the nature of “sport,” _i.e._, rare, and owing to nothing that we can
in the least assign to any known cause, the reviewer’s objections carry
much weight. Against the view here advocated, they are powerless.
* * * * *
I cannot here go into the difficulties of the geologic record, but they
too will, I believe, be felt to be almost infinitely simplified by
supposing the development of structure and instinct to be guided by
intelligence and memory, which, even under unstable conditions, would be
able to meet in some measure the demands made upon them.
* * * * *
When Mr. Mivart deals with evolution and ethics, I am afraid that I
differ from him even more widely than I have done from Mr. Darwin. He
writes (“Genesis of Species,” p. 234): “That ‘natural selection’ could
not have produced from the sensations of pleasure and pain experienced by
brutes a higher degree of morality than was useful; therefore it could
have produced any amount of ‘beneficial habits,’ but not abhorrence of
certain acts as impure and sinful.”
Possibly “natural selection” may not be able to do much in the way of
accumulating variations that do not arise; but that, according to the
views supported in this volume, all that is highest and most beautiful in
the soul, as well as in the body, could be, and has been, developed from
beings lower than man, I do not greatly doubt. Mr. Mivart and myself
should probably differ as to what is and what is not beautiful. Thus he
writes of “the noble virtue of a Marcus Aurelius” (p. 235), than whom,
for my own part, I know few respectable figures in history to whom I am
less attracted. I cannot but think that Mr. Mivart has taken his
estimate of this emperor at second-hand, and without reference to the
writings which happily enable us to form a fair estimate of his real
character.
Take the opening paragraphs of the “Thoughts” of Marcus Aurelius, as
translated by Mr. Long:—
“From the reputation and remembrance of my father [I learned] modesty and
a manly character; from my mother, piety and beneficence, abstinence not
only from evil deeds, but even from evil thoughts. . . . From my
great-grandfather, not to have frequented public schools, and to have had
good teachers at home, and to know that on such things a man should spend
liberally . . . From Diognetus . . . [I learned] to have become intimate
with philosophy, . . . and to have written dialogues in my youth, and to
have desired a plank bed and skin, and whatever else of the kind belongs
to the Greek discipline. . . . From Rusticus I received the impression
that my character required improvement and discipline;” and so on to the
end of the chapter, near which, however, it is right to say that there
appears a redeeming touch, in so far as that he thanks the gods that he
could not write poetry, and that he had never occupied himself about the
appearance of things in the heavens.
Or, again, opening Mr. Long’s translation at random I find (p. 37):—
“As physicians have always their instruments and knives ready for cases
which suddenly require their skill, so do thou have principles ready for
the understanding of things divine and human, and for doing everything,
even the smallest, with a recollection of the bond that unites the divine
and human to one another. For neither wilt thou do anything well which
pertains to man without at the same time having a reference to things
divine; nor the contrary.”
Unhappy one! No wonder the Roman empire went to pieces soon after him.
If I remember rightly, he established and subsidised professorships in
all parts of his dominions. Whereon the same befell the arts and
literature of Rome as befell Italian painting after the Academic system
had taken root at Bologna under the Caracci. Mr. Martin Tupper, again,
is an amiable and well-meaning man, but we should hardly like to see him
in Lord Beaconsfield’s place. The Athenians poisoned Socrates; and
Aristophanes—than whom few more profoundly religious men have ever been
born—did not, so far as we can gather, think the worse of his countrymen
on that account. It is not improbable that if they had poisoned Plato
too, Aristophanes would have been well enough pleased; but I think he
would have preferred either of these two men to Marcus Aurelius.
I know nothing about the loving but manly devotion of a St. Lewis, but I
strongly suspect that Mr. Mivart has taken him, too, upon hearsay.
On the other hand, among dogs we find examples of every heroic quality,
and of all that is most perfectly charming to us in man.
As for the possible development of the more brutal human natures from the
more brutal instincts of the lower animals, those who read a horrible
story told in a note, pp. 233, 234 of Mr. Mivart’s “Genesis of Species,”
will feel no difficulty on that score. I must admit, however, that the
telling of that story seems to me to be a mistake in a philosophical
work, which should not, I think, unless under compulsion, deal either
with the horrors of the French Revolution—or of the Spanish or Italian
Inquisition.
For the rest of Mr. Mivart’s objections, I must refer the reader to his
own work. I have been unable to find a single one, which I do not
believe to be easily met by the Lamarckian view, with the additions (if
indeed they are additions, for I must own to no very profound knowledge
of what Lamarck did or did not say), which I have in this volume proposed
to make to it. At the same time I admit, that as against the Darwinian
view, many of them seem quite unanswerable.