of the suppression of the marriages of the younger sons. Again, there is a constant tendency of the best men in the country, to settle in the great cities, where marriages are less prolific and children are less likely to live. Owing to these several causes, there is a steady check in an old civilization upon the fertility of the abler classes; the improvident and unambitious are those who chiefly keep up the breed. So the race gradually deteriorates, becoming in each successive generation less fitted for a high civilization, although it retains the external appearances of one, until the time comes when the whole political and social fabric caves in, and a greater or less relapse to barbarism takes place, during the reign of which the race is perhaps able to recover its tone.

The best form of civilization in respect to the improvement of the race, would be one in which society was not costly; where incomes were chiefly derived from professional sources, and not much through inheritance; where every lad had a chance of showing his abilities, and, if highly gifted, was enabled to achieve a first-class education and entrance into professional life, by the liberal help of the exhibitions and scholarships which he had gained in his early youth; where marriage was held in as high honour as in ancient Jewish times; where the pride of race was encouraged (of course I do not refer to the nonsensical sentiment of the present day, that goes under that name); where the weak could find a welcome and a refuge in celibate monasteries or sisterhoods, and lastly, where the better sort of emigrants and refugees from other lands were invited and welcomed, and their descendants naturalized.

CHAPTER XXII.

GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS.

17 is confidently asserted by all modern physiologists that the life of every plant and animal is built up of an enormous number of subordinate lives; that each organism consists of a multitude of elemental parts, which are to a great extent independent of each other; that each organ has its proper life, or autonomy, and can develop and reproduce itself independently of other tissues (see Darwin on "Domestication of Plants and Animals," ii. 368, 369). Thus the word "Man," when rightly understood, becomes a noun of multitude, because he is composed of millions, perhaps billions of cells, each of which possesses in some sort an independent life, and is parent of other cells. He is a conscious whole, formed by the joint agencies of a host of what appear to us to be unconscious or barely conscious elements.

Mr. Darwin, in his remarkable theory of Pangenesis, takes two great strides from this starting point. He supposes, first, that each cell, having of course its individual peculiarities, breeds nearly true to its kind, by propagating innumerable germs, or to use his expression, geommules," which circulate in the blood and multiply there; remaining in that inchoate form until they are able to fix themselves upon other more or less perfect tissue, and then they become developed into regular cells. Secondly, the germs are supposed to be solely governed by their respective

natural affinities, in selecting their points of attachment; and that, consequently, the marvellous structure of the living form is built up under the influence of innumerable blind affinities, and not under that of a central controlling power.

This theory, propounded by Mr. Darwin as "provisional," and avowedly based, in some degree, on pure hypothesis and very largely on analogy, is—whether it be true or not -of enormous service to those who inquire into heredity. It gives a key that unlocks every one of the hitherto unopened barriers to our comprehension of its nature; it binds within the compass of a singularly simple law, the multifarious forms of reproduction, witnessed in the wide range of organic life, and it brings all these forms of reproduction under the same conditions as govern the ordinary growth of each individual. It is, therefore, very advisable that we should look at the facts of hereditary genius, from the point of view which the theory of Pangenesis affords, and to this I will endeavour to guide the reader.

Every type of character in a living being may be compared to the typical appearance always found in different descriptions of assemblages. It is true that the life of an animal is conscious, and that the elements on which it is based are apparently unconscious, while exactly the reverse is the case in the corporate life of a body of men. Nevertheless the employment of this analogy will help us considerably in obtaining a clear understanding of the laws which govern heredity, and they will not mislead us, when used in the manner I propose. The assemblages of which I speak are such as are uncontrolled by any central authority, but have assumed their typical appearance through the free action of the individuals who compose them, each man being bent on his immediate interest, and finding his place under the sole influence of an elective affinity to his neighbours. A small rising watering-place affords as good

an illustration as any of which I can think. It is often hardly possible to trace its first beginnings: two or three houses were perhaps built for private use, and becoming accidentally vacant, were seen and rented by holiday folk, who praised the locality, and raised a demand for further accommodation; other houses were built to meet the requirement; this led to an inn, to the daily visit of the baker's and butcher's cart, the postman, and so forth. Then as the village increased and shops began to be established, young artisans, and other floating gemmules of English. population, in search of a place where they might advantageously attach themselves, became fixed, and so each new opportunity was seized upon and each opening filled up, as soon or very soon after it existed. The general result of these purely selfish affinities is, that watering-places are curiously similar, even before the speculative builder has stepped in. We may predict what kind of shops will be found and how they will be placed; nay, even what kind of goods and placards will be put up in the windows. And so, notwithstanding abundant individual peculiarities, we find them to have a strong generic identity.

The type of these watering-places is certainly a durable one; the human materials of which they are made remain similar, and so are the conditions under which they exist, of having to supply the wants of the average British holiday seeker. Therefore the watering-place would always breed true to its kind. It would do so by detaching an offshoot on the fissiparous principle, or like a polyp, from which you may snip off a bit, which thenceforward lives an independent life and grows into a complete animal. Or, to compare it with a higher order of life, two watering-places at some distance apart might between them afford material to raise another in an intermediate locality.

Precisely the same remarks might be made about fishing villages, or manufacturing towns, or new settlements in the

Bush, or an encampment of gold diggers, and each of these would breed true to its kind. If we go to more stationary forms of society than our own, we shall find numerous examples of the purest breed: thus, the Hottentot kraal or village of to-day differs in no way from those described by the earliest travellers; or, to take an immensely longer leap, the information gathered from the most ancient paintings in Egypt, accords with our observations of the modern life of the descendants of those peoples, whom the paintings represent.

Next, let us consider the nature of hybrids. Suppose a town to be formed under the influence of two others that differ, the one a watering-place and the other a fishing town; what will be the result? We find that particular combination to be usually favourable, because the different elements do not interfere with, but rather support one another. The fishing interest gives greater solidity to the place than the more ephemeral presence of the tourist population can furnish; the picturesque seaside life is also an attraction to visitors, and the fishermen cater for their food. On the other hand, the watering-place gives more varied conditions of existence to the fishermen; the visitors are very properly mulcted, directly or indirectly, for charities, roads, and the like, and they are not unwelcome customers in various ways to their fellow-townsmen.

Let us take another instance of an hybrid; one that leads to a different result. Suppose an enterprising manufacturer from a town at no great distance from an incipient watering-place, discovers advantages in its minerals, water power, or means of access, and prepares to set up his mill in the place. We may predict what will follow, with much certainty. Either the place will be forsaken as a watering-place, or the manufacturer will be in some way or other got rid of. The two elements are discordant. The dirt and noise and rough artisans engaged in the