Let us now consider the rather melodramatic nobleman Mr. Chesterton has
portrayed for us.
He does not tell us much about the nobleman's environment. He has lands
and wealth, and has been to college.
Does it tend to the moral elevation of a man to be like the "Chough" in
Shakespeare, "spacious in the possession of dirt"? Are the wise men
of all ages agreed that the possession of great wealth is a good
environment? Or do they not rather teach that luxury and wealth are
dangerous to their possessor?
In so far as this noble was a very wealthy man, I should say that his
environment was not good, but bad.
There remains the college. Now, men may learn good at colleges, and they
may learn bad. Is not that so? But let us give Mr. Chesterton the credit
and score the college down as good environment.
There remains unaccounted for--what? All the life and experiences of a
rich young man.
What were his parents like? Did his mother nurse him, or neglect him?
Did his father watch over him, or let him run wild? Were his companions
all men and women of virtue and good sense? Did he read no bad books?
Did he make no dangerous friendships? Did he ever do any work? Was
he ever taught that there art nobler ways of life than shooting dumb
animals, seducing vain or helpless girls, debauching at bachelors'
parties, playing at bridge, reading French novels, and running loose in
the gilded hells of Europe and America?
Because, until we have these and a few thousand other questions
answered, we cannot accept Mr. Chesterton's assurance that this wicked
nobleman had a good environment.
Then, as to that question of "original sin." Is Mr. Chesterton in a
position to inform us that his bold bad peer is not a degenerate? Is
Mr. Chesterton sure that he has not inherited a degenerate nature from
diseased or vicious ancestors?
No insanity in the family? No gout? No consumption? No drunkenness? No
diseases contracted through immorality or vice? All his family for a
hundred generations back certified as having united "the manners of a
marquis and the morals of a Methodist"?
_Quite_ sure the noble was _not_ a degenerate? _Quite_ sure that his
failure was not due to bad environment instead of to bad heredity?
Then I should advise Mr. Chesterton to study Darwin, Galton, Lombroso,
Weissmann, and Dr. Lydston, and he will find that a man of good descent
may cast back, or "breed back," to the ape or hog, may be born an
atavist; and may be incapable of being a gentleman for the simple
reason that he is a wild beast.
In which connection I may remark that in _The Diseases of Society_ Dr.
Lydston mentions that Benedikt's experiments upon criminal skulls showed
that the skull of "the born criminal" (atavist) "approximates that
of the carnivora." That is to say, a man may be cursed with a skull
resembling that of a tiger.
Is it any wonder that such men, to repeat Mr. Chesterton's poetical
simile, "put forth sins like scarlet flowers in summer"?
I am grateful to Mr. Campbell and to Mr. Chesterton for their arguments:
they serve the useful purpose of exemplifying the confusion of thought
upon this subject which exists in quarters where we should least expect
to find it.
As it is of the utmost importance that we should thoroughly understand
the relations to each other of heredity and environment, this being a
subject upon which there is much stumbling, we shall do well to make
quite sure of our ground before we go a step farther.
It is erroneous to speak of "a struggle between a man and his
environment," or of a man "rising above his environment".
What we call "a man" is a product of heredity _and_ environment.
The "man" is largely what environment has already made him.
At the instant of birth a child may be regarded as wholly a product of
heredity. But his first breath is environment. The first touch of the
nurse's hands is environment. The first washing, the swaddling clothes,
the "binder," and the first drop of mother's milk are parts of his
environment.
And from the first moment of his birth until the time of his manhood, he
is being continually moulded and affected by environment.
All his knowledge, all his beliefs, all his opinions are given to him by
environment.
And now, with this in our mind, we can see the absurdity of Mr.
Campbell's talk about John Bunyan.
Before his conversion Bunyan was already "a creature of heredity _and_
environment." The very conscience of the man, which his wife, and the
godly man, and Cromwell's soldiers, and the preachings in the church he
frequented, were to awaken, had been created _by_ environment.
For a child is born without conscience: with only the rudiments of a
conscience, to be developed or destroyed--by environment.
Now let us reconsider the example of our swimmer and the stream. The
swimmer is something more than a mere "heredity." He is a man, and
he has learnt to swim. Therefore in his battle with the stream of
environment he is using heredity _and_ environment For environment
taught him to swim.
Let us take another simile. A man is rowing a boat across a bay. The
tide, the currents, and the wind may be regarded as environments. All
these environments may be with him, or against him. Or the tide may be
against him, and the wind in his favour, and the currents dangerous if
not avoided.
But "the man" is largely what environments have made him. His
knowledge of rowing came from environment, his knowledge of the bay
is environment, his knowledge of the run and position of the
dangerous currents is environment, the boat and the oars belong to his
environment.
And with all the useful and favourable environments, _plus_ his
hereditary qualities, he fights the adverse environments of the wind,
and the tide, and the currents.
Now, let us suppose the sea to be rough, and the tide and wind strong,
and against the oarsman. And then let us imagine the cases of two men,
one of whom was an expert sailor, in a good boat, well found, and one
a landsman, who could not row, who did not know the bay, who did not
understand wind and tide, who was ignorant of the currents, who had bad
oars and a leaky boat.
It is evident that the sailor would have a chance of getting safely
across the bay, and that the landsman would be in grave peril of being
capsized, or carried out to sea.
And the difference between the sailor and the landsman would be entirely
a difference of environment.
But suppose, farther, that the sailor was of healthy descent, that he
was, by heredity, strong, and brave, and intelligent; and suppose that
the landsman was a degenerate: weak, nervous, fainthearted, and stupid;
then the difference would be one of heredity and environment.
And if the landsman were drowned and the sailor came safely to shore,
should we curse and revile the one, and applaud and reward the other. Or
should we take the sailor's success as a matter of course, and give our
pity to the landsman?
Well: in such a crazy boat, with such useless oars, with such a faint
heart, a lack of knowledge and skill, and such a feeble mind, does the
"Bottom Dog" put out, to wrestle with the winds and storms, and escape
the dangerous currents of life.
And how can we expect the badly bred, badly trained, badly taught
degenerate to succeed like the well-bred, well-trained, and well-taught
hero?
What Mr. Campbell calls John Bunyan's "manhood"--the manhood that
"raised him above his environment"--was largely composed of environment.
There never yet has been a hero whose heroism was not in a great measure
due to his environment. Let any one who doubts this look back to our
suggestions of the fate of a child born into evil environments.
Every man is largely what environment has made him. No man can be
independent of environment: but for environment he could never live to
be a man at all.
And now let us consider some of the good and evil things environment may
do.