JELLY-FISH, STAR-FISH AND SEA-URCHINS (International Scientific
Series). BEING A RESEARCH INTO PRIMITIVE NERVOUS SYSTEMS. By G. J.
Romanes, M.A., LL.D., F.R.S., etc. New York: _D. Appleton & Co._
Mr. G. J. Romanes, one of the most distinguished of living English
scientists, and a worthy follower in the track of Darwin, has given
the world in his study of the lowest forms of animal life a book of
great interest to the general reader who is interested in scientific
matter. At first glance the line of research followed might not seem
particularly engaging except to the professional student, but one
hardly dips into the book without finding his attention aroused and
stimulated. The poetic enthusiasm with which Mr. Romanes introduces the
subject quickly finds a response in the mind of the reader. He writes:
“Among the most beautiful, as well as the most common, of the marine
animals which are to be met with upon our coasts, are the jelly-fish
and the star-fish. Scarcely anyone is so devoid of the instincts either
of the artist or of the naturalist as not to have watched these animals
with blended emotions of the æsthetic and the scientific—feeling the
beauty while wondering at the organization. How many of us who live
for most of the year in the fog and dust of large towns enjoy with the
greater zest our summer’s holiday at the seaside? And in the memories
of most of us is there not associated with the picture of breaking
waves and sea-birds floating indifferently in the blue sky, or on the
water still more blue, the thoughts of many a ramble among the weedy
rocks and living pools, where, for the time being, we all become
naturalists, and where those who least know what they are likely to
find in their search are most likely to approach the keen happiness of
childhood? If so, the image of the red sea-stars bespangling a mile
of shining sand, or decorating the darkness of a thousand grottoes,
must be joined with the image, no less vivid, of those crystal globes,
pulsating with life and gleaming with all the colors of the rainbow,
which are perhaps the most strange, and certainly in my estimation the
most delicately lovely creatures in the world.
“It is with these two kinds of creatures that the present work is
concerned, and, if it seems almost impious to lay the ‘forced fingers
rude’ of science upon living things of such exquisite beauty, let it be
remembered that our human nature is not so much out of joint that the
rational desire to know is incompatible with the emotional impulse to
admire. Speaking for myself, I can testify that my admiration of the
extreme beauty of these animals has been greatly enhanced—or rather I
should say that this extreme beauty has been, so to speak, revealed—by
the continuous and close observation which many of my experiments
required: both with the unassisted eye and with the microscope
numberless points of detail, unnoticed before, became familiar to the
mind; the forms as a whole were impressed upon the memory; and, by
constantly watching their movements and changes of appearance, I have
grown, like an artist studying a face or a landscape, to appreciate a
fulness of beauty, the esse of which is only rendered possible by the
_percipi_ of such attention as is demanded by scientific research.
Moreover, association, if not the sole creator, is at least a most
important factor of the beautiful; and therefore the sight of one
of these animals is now much more to me, in the respects which we
are considering, than it can be to anyone in whose memory it is not
connected with many days of that purest form of enjoyment which can
only be experienced in the pursuit of science.”
No matter how interesting investigation into any set of natural
phenomena may be, probably none is more attractive than a study of
primitive nervous systems. Alike in the survey of the whole of the
animal kingdom and in the study of the development of any individual
form there are certain broad truths evident. First among these may be
mentioned the significant fact that the nervous system of all animals
originates from some of the cells of that layer of the body which was
originally the outermost. This is the lesson taught by nature that the
prime necessity of living organisms is a knowledge of the outer world,
and that the most sensitive and important system of organs primarily
stands in a direct relation to the outer world. The investigations of
Leuckart, Haeckel, Oscar and Richard Hertwig, and Prof. Schafer fully
established the fact as to the origin of nerve fibres and sense-cells
from the outer layer of the body, and as to the primitively diffused
disposition of the central nervous system. This was first observed of
the jelly-fish, but subsequent investigation proved it also to be the
case with star-fish, sea-urchins and all the forms of echinoderms.
Haeckel, in 1860, showed that the eyes of the star-fishes are nothing
more than elongated epithelial cells provided with pigments, and
throughout life quite superficial in position.
Though Mr. Romanes gives a succinct account of the authentic
conclusions reached by other students in this line of scientific
research, his book is mostly devoted to his own investigations.
He makes a great many curious observations as to the habits and
characteristics of the classes of animals of which he treats, beside
giving a very complete account of their physiology and morphology. The
work is fully illustrated with cuts, and though it may seem at first to
bristle with technical matter, the reader will speedily find himself
interested in the studies and conclusions of the author.
ORIGIN OF CULTIVATED PLANTS (International Scientific Series).
By Alphonse de Candolle, Foreign Associate Academie of Sciences,
Institute of France, Foreign Member of the Royal Societies of London,
Edinburgh and Dublin, etc., etc. New York: _D. Appleton & Co._
M. De Candolle’s “Origin of Cultivated Plants” (No. 48 of the
International Scientific Series) is a work calculated certainly to
arouse the attention of agriculturists, botanists, and others aside
from those interested in the dawnings of civilization from the
historical or philosophical standpoint. The labors of both father and
son in this field have made the name of De Candolle distinguished in
science as worthy successors of Linnæus, and thirty years’ labor in
the field of geographical botany have wrought results of the most
important kind. There are few plants which are not adequately discussed
in this book in spite of the fact that, owing to the great number of
varieties which long cultivation has produced, and the remoteness of
time when they were first reclaimed from nature, great difficulties
are offered to any correct history of their origin. The author combats
the erroneous opinions promulgated so widely by Linnæus, who, in spite
of his greatness, oftentimes took things too much on trust. Many of
these mistakes dated back to the times of the Greeks and Romans,
and certainly it was time that some adequate hand should attempt a
correction. The data of correction have been drawn from data of varied
character, some of which is quite recent and even unpublished, and all
of which has been sifted as men sift evidence in historical research.
The author claims that, in spite of all the difficulties in his way,
he has been able to determine the origin of almost all the species,
sometimes with absolute certainty, sometimes with a very high degree of
probability.
Some plants cultivated for more than two thousand years are not now
known in a spontaneous state. This can be accounted for on one of
these two hypotheses; either these plants, since history has begun,
have changed so entirely in form in their wild as well as in their
cultivated condition that they are no longer recognized as belonging
to the same species, or they are extinct species. In case they are
extinct, this extinction must have taken place of course during the
short period (scientifically speaking) of a few hundred centuries,
on continents where they might have spread, and under circumstances
which are commonly considered unvarying. This shows how the history
of cultivated plants is allied to the most important problems of the
general history of organized beings. The study of plants by our author
is divided into those cultivated for their subterranean parts, such as
roots, tubercles or bulbs; those cultivated for their stems or leaves;
those cultivated for their flowers or for the organs which envelop
them; those cultivated for their fruits, and those cultivated for
their seeds. In the process of investigation we readily observe that
De Candolle, who appears a master of the tools of research in every
branch of study, has not only used botanical resources, but those of
history and of travel, of archæology, pæleontology, and of philology.
The wealth of learning lavished by the author on his work is sometimes
almost bewildering. One of the most striking results of the author’s
researches is that certain species are extinct or are fast becoming
extinct since the historical epoch, and that not on small islands,
but on vast continents without any great modifications of climate.
M. De Candolle tells us that in the history of cultivated plants he
has noticed no trace of communication between the peoples of the
old and new worlds before the discovery of America by Columbus. The
Scandinavians, who had pushed their excursions as far as the north of
the United States, and the Basques of the Middle Ages, who followed
whales perhaps as far as America, do not seem to have transported
a single species. Neither has the Gulf Stream produced any effect.
Between America and Asia, two transports of useful plants, perhaps,
took place, the one by man (the batata, or sweet potato), the other by
the agency of man or of the sea (the cocoanut palm).
THE ADVENTURES OF TIMIAS TERRYSTONE. A Novel. By O. B. Bunce. New
York: _D. Appleton & Co._
Mr. Bunce, the author of several charmingly written works of the
essay character, among which may be mentioned “Bachelor Bluff,” “My
House an Ideal,”etc., again challenges the critical attention of the
intelligent reading public, in a form this time which will command
wider interest—the novel. The “Adventures of Timias Terrystone”
is in no sense a romance; it is not a story of action, or in the
least melodramatic; it is not in any wide or deep sense a novel of
character, though the personages have well-marked individualities and
act consistently with them. So far as the actual life depicted is
concerned, the story glides pleasantly over the surface of things, not
professing or caring to deal with the more deep and startling issues
of life, but touching the facts of every-day happening with a light
and graceful hand, and showing a very keen sensibility to the fresh
and lovely aspects of youth. The hero is a young artist who, being a
waif, did not know his own parentage, and being brought up in a very
unconventional way, disdains even at the last, when he discovers his
ancestry, all pride of birth and family. The adventures of the youthful
painter, though chiefly of an amatory character, as his great personal
beauty and freshness of character appear to exercise a great charm
over the other sex, are manifold, and both interesting and amusing,
he being a more refined and purer Gil Blas. But we doubt whether the
main interest will be found in the mere story, though novel-readers
will not go amiss of genuine enjoyment in this way. In the mouth of
one of the characters, a bluff, easy-going, wandering Bohemian, our
author places a great number of keen, incisive, critical, or eloquent
observations, as the case may be. These thoughts are so full of pith
that they can hardly fail to be widely quoted, and our readers will not
have to draw on their good nature to pardon us if we give them some of
these well-spiced plums: “A man who goes through the world with his
eyes open learns something at every step; but one who immerses himself
in a library simply converts himself into a catalogue.... What are
reading and writing, anyway, but a prejudice of society? Do men get
more character, more self-reliance, greater capacity for dealing with
the problems of life, by filtering through the brain the dreams of the
poets and the philosophers? I tell you that when our boys should be
scouring through the woods, rolling down-hill, scaling the mountains,
making themselves splendid young Apollos, we shut them up in a deadly
school-room, which soon drives the color out of their cheeks, vigor
out of their limbs, pluck out of their hearts, and snap out of their
brains. Civilization is a bundle of absurdities—it is worse, it is a
upas-tree, that is fast poisoning the race.”
* * * * *
“‘Men fall in love, they say, with beauty, with goodness, with
gentleness, with intellectual qualities, with a sweet voice, with a
smile, with an agreeable manner, with a lovable disposition, with many
ascertainable and measurable things, and yet we find them continually
falling in love with women who are not beautiful, nor good, nor wise,
nor gentle, nor possessing any ascertainable or measurable thing.
You’ll find a hundred reasons given for falling in love, or being in
love, and rarely the right reason—which is commonly simply because
a man cannot help it.... The philosophy of the thing is just here—a
woman’s eye glances, or her lips smile, or her neck is white and well
turned, or she has a pretty hand, or she flutters a fan gracefully,
or she looks sympathetic, or she beckons, or some other trifle as
light as gossamer, as valueless as a mote in the sun, as much without
significance as the fall of a leaf, and the man is subdued, and
immediately he begins to declare that the woman is lovely, when she
is not; that she is gentle and good, when anyone can see the shrew
in her eye; that she is wise and capable, when she is as perverse as
a donkey, and as empty as an abandoned shell on the seashore; and so
goes on manufacturing qualities and attributes for her out of air. To
satisfy his judgment he creates an ideal, and tries with all his might
to persuade himself there are good reasons for his passion—and so there
are, but they are not written down in the catalogue of attractions. He
is in love because a mysterious force of nature has touched him. The
woman may be unbeautiful, heartless, selfish, cruel, untrue, coarse,
frivolous, empty, but if the magic of nature—something of the magic, I
suspect, that Puck used on the eyes of Titania—touches him, he sees not
one of these things in their true aspect. Yes, the Titanias that have
fallen in love with men crowned with donkey-heads, and the men that
have fallen in love with serpents, thinking them doves, are many—and
all because of a diabolism, or a mystic fury in nature that delights
in bringing incongruous elements together for the sake of a dance of
delirium.’”
* * * * *
“‘The reason why the world is as bad as it is, is because it has been
lectured so much. Denunciation has never improved the morals of the
world since the days of Jeremiah to the present hour. Many men are
better for reading Emerson—none are better for reading Carlyle; in
fact, the influence of your picturesque scold like Carlyle is to make
fault-finding look like a virtue, and make people imagine that, if they
are only vehement enough in denouncing other people’s sins, they will
thereby clear their skirts of their own. It is the vice of a certain
kind of piety that it is forever plunged into the deepest concern about
other people’s iniquities. Your devout Catholic goes to church to
confess his sins; your acrimonious Puritan goes to church to confess
other people’s sins.’”
* * * * *
“‘And too often their own virtues,’ said Mary.
“‘Let us not imitate the censorious spirit in judging of him, for
there is a great deal of good in his class, but believe firmly
that denunciation cures nothing. There ought to be organized an
anti-scolding league.’
“‘Of women?’ asked Mary, smiling.
“‘I am compelled to confess,’ said Philip, that the number of Jeremiahs
in the world has been—excessive! And all the time your sex is so full
of gentleness and sympathy! Perhaps the abominable doings of the
men have been too much for their patience, and that we deserve the
rating we get. But while we deserve it, that is not the way to reform
us—we will succumb to your kindly words much sooner than to your
objurgations.’...
“‘If there were not a censorious and fault-finding Mrs. Grundy, one
very important restraint on people would be removed,’ remarked young
Studley.
“‘See how old notions survive!’ exclaimed Philip. ‘The world must be
driven and whipped, in order that it may be tractable and proper. Hang
a thief, and you will stop stealing; drown a scold, and you will stop
scolding; storm at a child, and he will grow up virtuous! But, you
see, no body of people has ever tried my plan, and hence you know how
the old whip and penalty method has worked, but you do not know how
the moral and sympathetic dispensary plan will operate. For my part, I
believe in human nature, and I am convinced that a plan that works well
in a narrow circle would obey the same laws in a larger circle. But
shall there not be a truce to philosophy?’”
We appeal to our readers if these quotations do not inspire an appetite
for more. For our part, we have rarely found more mellow, yet pungent
wisdom put in more agreeable form. Certainly the Bohemian, Philip,
reminds us very strongly of another personage, considerably in the
mouths of the reading public not very long since, Bachelor Bluff.
THE SECRET OF DEATH. FROM THE SANSCRIT. WITH SOME SELECTED POEMS. By
Edwin Arnold, M.A., author of “The Light of Asia,” “Pearls of the
Faith,”“Indian Idylls,” etc. Boston: _Roberts Brothers_.
The leading poem, from which this collection takes its title, is an
adaptation from the first three books of a celebrated Sanscrit poem,
the “Katha Upanishad.” The scene as described at the beginning of the
poem is in a temple beside the river Moota Moola, near the city of
Poona, and here a Brahmin priest and an English Sahib read together
from the manuscript, the learned Brahmin commenting as his English
pupil recites from the poem. The thread of motive may be briefly
described: Gautama for love of heaven gave all he had to the poor.
He had given all, and at last gave his son, Nachikêtas, to Yama, the
God of Death, the last gift he had remaining. The youth, who had been
trained in the highest holiness, went humbly to the abode of Yama, the
King of Death, where he remained three days before the god came. When
at last Yama came, he found that a holy Brahmin had waited for him
three days, and to atone for this he promised him three wishes before
he should die. Nachikêtas asked for three things: that his father
should be comforted for his loss; that he should reach the abodes of
heaven without first passing through the purgation of hell. Then he
asks the third boon of Yama:
“‘There is this doubt,’ young Nachikêtas said:
‘Thou dost give peace—is that peace Nothingness?
Some say that after death the soul still lives,
Personal, conscious; some say, Nay, it ends!
Fain would I know which of these twain be true,
By thee enlightened. Be my third boon this.’
Then Yama answered, ‘This was asked of old,
Even by the gods! This is a subtle thing,
Not to be told, hard to be understood!
Ask me some other boon: I may not grant!
Choose wiser, Nachikêtas; force me not
To quit this debt—release me from my bond!’
Then, still again spake Nachikêtas: ‘Ay!
The gods have asked this question; but, O Death!
Albeit thou sayest it is a subtle thing,
Not to be told, hard to be understood,
Yet know I none can answer like to thee,
And no boon like to this abides to ask.
I crave this boon!’”
Yama tries to evade the fulfilment of this request. He will give the
petitioner any and all things, but this he would not answer, if he
could help.
“‘Choose,’ spake he, ‘sons and grandsons, who shall, thrive
A hundred years: choose for them countless herds—
Elephants, horses, gold! Carve out thy lands
In kingdoms for them. Nay, or be thyself
A king again on earth, reigning as long
As life shall satisfy. And, further, add
Unto these gifts whatever else thou wilt.
Health, wisdom, happiness—the rule of the world,
And I will fill the cup of thy desires!
Whatso is hard to gain and dear to keep
In the eyes of men, ask it of me, and have!
Beautiful, fond companions, fair as those
That ride the cars of Indra, singing sweet
To instruments of heavenly melody,
Lovelier than mortal eye hath gazed upon:
Have these, have heaven within their clinging arms!
I give them—I give all; save this one thing;
Ask not of Death what cometh after death!’”
At last, in compliance with persistent solicitation, the dread god
yields, and in his answer is contained the highest and subtlest
teaching of Indian philosophy. A short passage will sufficiently
indicate its character, for it is impossible within any brief compass
to clearly elucidate the mysteries placed in Yama’s mouth:
“‘If he that slayeth thinks “I slay;” if he
Whom he doth slay, thinks “I am slain,”—then both
Know not aright! That which was life in each
Cannot be slain, nor slay!
“‘The untouched Soul,
Greater than all the worlds [because the worlds
By it subsist]; smaller than subtleties
Of things minutest; last of ultimates,
Sits in the hollow heart of all that lives!
Whoso hath laid aside desire and fear,
His senses mastered, and his spirit still,
Sees in the quiet light of verity
Eternal, safe, majestical—HIS SOUL!
“‘Resting, it ranges everywhere! asleep,
It roams the world, unsleeping! Who, save I,
Know that divinest spirit, as it is,
Glad beyond joy, existing outside life?
“‘Beholding it in bodies bodiless,
Amid impermanency permanent,
Embracing all things, yet i’ the midst of all,
The mind, enlightened, casts its grief away!
“‘It is not to be known by knowledge! man
Wotteth it not by wisdom! learning vast
Halts short of it! Only by soul itself
Is soul perceived—when the Soul wills it so!
There shines no light save its own light to show
Itself unto itself!
“‘None compasseth
Its joy who is not wholly ceased from sin,
Who dwells not self-controlled, self-centred—calm,
Lord of himself! It is not gotten else!
Brahm hath it not to give!’”
It need hardly be said that such a poem as this, though not of a
character to be enjoyed by those who read verse simply for its sensuous
charm or its dramatic and narrative pictures, will yield fruit for
interesting reflection to more thoughtful minds.
The other poems in the volume are of a lighter character. Among those
specially noticeable are the three Hindu songs, the pastoral poem,
“Neucia,” translated from the Italian of the great Florentine ruler,
Lorenzo de Medici, who, if he destroyed the liberties of his city,
raised it to its highest place in literary and art glory, as also in
commercial and political power; “The Epic of the Lion;” “The Wreck of
the Northern Belle;”and “Amadis of Gaul to Don Quixote de La Mancha,”
The latter, which is from the Spanish, is a little gem:
“Thou who did’st imitate the mournful manner
Of my most lonely and despised Life,
And—leaving joy for suffering and strife—
Upon the bare hillside did’st pitch thy banner!
Thou whose unshamed eyes with tears oft ran over—
Salt dripping tears—when giving up all proper
Vessels of use, silver and tin and copper,
Thou atest earth’s herbs on the earth, a woful dinner—
Rest thou content, Sir Knight! Ever and ever,
Or at the least whilst through the hemispheres
Golden Apollo drives his glittering mares—
Famous and praised shall be thy high endeavor!
Thy land of birth the glory of all nations,
Thy chroniclers the crown of reputation.”
The volume, on the whole, very well sustains Edwin Arnold’s growing
reputation as one of the first half dozen of the contemporary English
poets.
GREATER LONDON: A NARRATIVE OF ITS HISTORY, ITS PEOPLE, AND ITS
PLACES. By Edward Walford, M.A., joint Author of “Old and New London.”
Illustrated with Numerous Engravings. Vol. II. London, Paris, and New
York: _Cassell & Co., Limited_.
Mr. Walford’s reputation needs no exploitation in the line of work
which he has followed, just as good wine needs no bush. He has
done much to embalm the literary and historic glory of London and
its environs in the past, and the present volume, which completes
“Greater London,” is no less interesting than its predecessors. All
the celebrated and interesting spots in the vicinity of London, their
traditions, history, personal and literary associations, etc., are
described not only as a labor of love, but with a wealth of knowledge
in detail. It is not easy to characterize the mass of information
given, it covers so wide and varied a field. Certainly the reader of
English history will find that he is helped very materially to a vivid
realization of the great personages and events which have made the
record of England’s past so dramatic and fascinating. Such books as
these are not merely interesting in themselves, but throw a flood of
light on the mind of the reader.