Books: On the Origin of Species
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Charles Darwin >> On the Origin of Species
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A large amount of change in our cultivated plants, thus slowly and
unconsciously accumulated, explains, as I believe, the well-known
fact, that in a vast number of cases we cannot recognise, and
therefore do not know, the wild parent-stocks of the plants which have
been longest cultivated in our flower and kitchen gardens. If it has
taken centuries or thousands of years to improve or modify most of our
plants up to their present standard of usefulness to man, we can
understand how it is that neither Australia, the Cape of Good Hope,
nor any other region inhabited by quite uncivilised man, has afforded
us a single plant worth culture. It is not that these countries, so
rich in species, do not by a strange chance possess the aboriginal
stocks of any useful plants, but that the native plants have not been
improved by continued selection up to a standard of perfection
comparable with that given to the plants in countries anciently
civilised.
In regard to the domestic animals kept by uncivilised man, it should
not be overlooked that they almost always have to struggle for their
own food, at least during certain seasons. And in two countries very
differently circumstanced, individuals of the same species, having
slightly different constitutions or structure, would often succeed
better in the one country than in the other, and thus by a process of
"natural selection," as will hereafter be more fully explained, two
sub-breeds might be formed. This, perhaps, partly explains what has
been remarked by some authors, namely, that the varieties kept by
savages have more of the character of species than the varieties kept
in civilised countries.
On the view here given of the all-important part which selection by
man has played, it becomes at once obvious, how it is that our
domestic races show adaptation in their structure or in their habits
to man's wants or fancies. We can, I think, further understand the
frequently abnormal character of our domestic races, and likewise
their differences being so great in external characters and relatively
so slight in internal parts or organs. Man can hardly select, or only
with much difficulty, any deviation of structure excepting such as is
externally visible; and indeed he rarely cares for what is internal.
He can never act by selection, excepting on variations which are first
given to him in some slight degree by nature. No man would ever try to
make a fantail, till he saw a pigeon with a tail developed in some
slight degree in an unusual manner, or a pouter till he saw a pigeon
with a crop of somewhat unusual size; and the more abnormal or unusual
any character was when it first appeared, the more likely it would be
to catch his attention. But to use such an expression as trying to
make a fantail, is, I have no doubt, in most cases, utterly incorrect.
The man who first selected a pigeon with a slightly larger tail, never
dreamed what the descendants of that pigeon would become through
long-continued, partly unconscious and partly methodical selection.
Perhaps the parent bird of all fantails had only fourteen
tail-feathers somewhat expanded, like the present Java fantail, or
like individuals of other and distinct breeds, in which as many as
seventeen tail-feathers have been counted. Perhaps the first
pouter-pigeon did not inflate its crop much more than the turbit now
does the upper part of its oesophagus,--a habit which is disregarded
by all fanciers, as it is not one of the points of the breed.
Nor let it be thought that some great deviation of structure would be
necessary to catch the fancier's eye: he perceives extremely small
differences, and it is in human nature to value any novelty, however
slight, in one's own possession. Nor must the value which would
formerly be set on any slight differences in the individuals of the
same species, be judged of by the value which would now be set on
them, after several breeds have once fairly been established. Many
slight differences might, and indeed do now, arise amongst pigeons,
which are rejected as faults or deviations from the standard of
perfection of each breed. The common goose has not given rise to any
marked varieties; hence the Thoulouse and the common breed, which
differ only in colour, that most fleeting of characters, have lately
been exhibited as distinct at our poultry-shows.
I think these views further explain what has sometimes been
noticed--namely that we know nothing about the origin or history of
any of our domestic breeds. But, in fact, a breed, like a dialect of a
language, can hardly be said to have had a definite origin. A man
preserves and breeds from an individual with some slight deviation of
structure, or takes more care than usual in matching his best animals
and thus improves them, and the improved individuals slowly spread in
the immediate neighbourhood. But as yet they will hardly have a
distinct name, and from being only slightly valued, their history will
be disregarded. When further improved by the same slow and gradual
process, they will spread more widely, and will get recognised as
something distinct and valuable, and will then probably first receive
a provincial name. In semi-civilised countries, with little free
communication, the spreading and knowledge of any new sub-breed will
be a slow process. As soon as the points of value of the new sub-breed
are once fully acknowledged, the principle, as I have called it, of
unconscious selection will always tend,--perhaps more at one period
than at another, as the breed rises or falls in fashion,--perhaps more
in one district than in another, according to the state of
civilisation of the inhabitants--slowly to add to the characteristic
features of the breed, whatever they may be. But the chance will be
infinitely small of any record having been preserved of such slow,
varying, and insensible changes.
I must now say a few words on the circumstances, favourable, or the
reverse, to man's power of selection. A high degree of variability is
obviously favourable, as freely giving the materials for selection to
work on; not that mere individual differences are not amply
sufficient, with extreme care, to allow of the accumulation of a large
amount of modification in almost any desired direction. But as
variations manifestly useful or pleasing to man appear only
occasionally, the chance of their appearance will be much increased by
a large number of individuals being kept; and hence this comes to be
of the highest importance to success. On this principle Marshall has
remarked, with respect to the sheep of parts of Yorkshire, that "as
they generally belong to poor people, and are mostly IN SMALL LOTS,
they never can be improved." On the other hand, nurserymen, from
raising large stocks of the same plants, are generally far more
successful than amateurs in getting new and valuable varieties. The
keeping of a large number of individuals of a species in any country
requires that the species should be placed under favourable conditions
of life, so as to breed freely in that country. When the individuals
of any species are scanty, all the individuals, whatever their quality
may be, will generally be allowed to breed, and this will effectually
prevent selection. But probably the most important point of all, is,
that the animal or plant should be so highly useful to man, or so much
valued by him, that the closest attention should be paid to even the
slightest deviation in the qualities or structure of each individual.
Unless such attention be paid nothing can be effected. I have seen it
gravely remarked, that it was most fortunate that the strawberry began
to vary just when gardeners began to attend closely to this plant. No
doubt the strawberry had always varied since it was cultivated, but
the slight varieties had been neglected. As soon, however, as
gardeners picked out individual plants with slightly larger, earlier,
or better fruit, and raised seedlings from them, and again picked out
the best seedlings and bred from them, then, there appeared (aided by
some crossing with distinct species) those many admirable varieties of
the strawberry which have been raised during the last thirty or forty
years.
In the case of animals with separate sexes, facility in preventing
crosses is an important element of success in the formation of new
races,--at least, in a country which is already stocked with other
races. In this respect enclosure of the land plays a part. Wandering
savages or the inhabitants of open plains rarely possess more than one
breed of the same species. Pigeons can be mated for life, and this is
a great convenience to the fancier, for thus many races may be kept
true, though mingled in the same aviary; and this circumstance must
have largely favoured the improvement and formation of new breeds.
Pigeons, I may add, can be propagated in great numbers and at a very
quick rate, and inferior birds may be freely rejected, as when killed
they serve for food. On the other hand, cats, from their nocturnal
rambling habits, cannot be matched, and, although so much valued by
women and children, we hardly ever see a distinct breed kept up; such
breeds as we do sometimes see are almost always imported from some
other country, often from islands. Although I do not doubt that some
domestic animals vary less than others, yet the rarity or absence of
distinct breeds of the cat, the donkey, peacock, goose, etc., may be
attributed in main part to selection not having been brought into
play: in cats, from the difficulty in pairing them; in donkeys, from
only a few being kept by poor people, and little attention paid to
their breeding; in peacocks, from not being very easily reared and a
large stock not kept; in geese, from being valuable only for two
purposes, food and feathers, and more especially from no pleasure
having been felt in the display of distinct breeds.
To sum up on the origin of our Domestic Races of animals and plants. I
believe that the conditions of life, from their action on the
reproductive system, are so far of the highest importance as causing
variability. I do not believe that variability is an inherent and
necessary contingency, under all circumstances, with all organic
beings, as some authors have thought. The effects of variability are
modified by various degrees of inheritance and of reversion.
Variability is governed by many unknown laws, more especially by that
of correlation of growth. Something may be attributed to the direct
action of the conditions of life. Something must be attributed to use
and disuse. The final result is thus rendered infinitely complex. In
some cases, I do not doubt that the intercrossing of species,
aboriginally distinct, has played an important part in the origin of
our domestic productions. When in any country several domestic breeds
have once been established, their occasional intercrossing, with the
aid of selection, has, no doubt, largely aided in the formation of new
sub-breeds; but the importance of the crossing of varieties has, I
believe, been greatly exaggerated, both in regard to animals and to
those plants which are propagated by seed. In plants which are
temporarily propagated by cuttings, buds, etc., the importance of the
crossing both of distinct species and of varieties is immense; for the
cultivator here quite disregards the extreme variability both of
hybrids and mongrels, and the frequent sterility of hybrids; but the
cases of plants not propagated by seed are of little importance to us,
for their endurance is only temporary. Over all these causes of Change
I am convinced that the accumulative action of Selection, whether
applied methodically and more quickly, or unconsciously and more
slowly, but more efficiently, is by far the predominant Power.
CHAPTER 2. VARIATION UNDER NATURE.
Variability.
Individual differences.
Doubtful species.
Wide ranging, much diffused, and common species vary most.
Species of the larger genera in any country vary more than the species
of the smaller genera.
Many of the species of the larger genera resemble varieties in being
very closely, but unequally, related to each other, and in having
restricted ranges.
Before applying the principles arrived at in the last chapter to
organic beings in a state of nature, we must briefly discuss whether
these latter are subject to any variation. To treat this subject at
all properly, a long catalogue of dry facts should be given; but these
I shall reserve for my future work. Nor shall I here discuss the
various definitions which have been given of the term species. No one
definition has as yet satisfied all naturalists; yet every naturalist
knows vaguely what he means when he speaks of a species. Generally the
term includes the unknown element of a distinct act of creation. The
term "variety" is almost equally difficult to define; but here
community of descent is almost universally implied, though it can
rarely be proved. We have also what are called monstrosities; but they
graduate into varieties. By a monstrosity I presume is meant some
considerable deviation of structure in one part, either injurious to
or not useful to the species, and not generally propagated. Some
authors use the term "variation" in a technical sense, as implying a
modification directly due to the physical conditions of life; and
"variations" in this sense are supposed not to be inherited: but who
can say that the dwarfed condition of shells in the brackish waters of
the Baltic, or dwarfed plants on Alpine summits, or the thicker fur of
an animal from far northwards, would not in some cases be inherited
for at least some few generations? and in this case I presume that the
form would be called a variety.
Again, we have many slight differences which may be called individual
differences, such as are known frequently to appear in the offspring
from the same parents, or which may be presumed to have thus arisen,
from being frequently observed in the individuals of the same species
inhabiting the same confined locality. No one supposes that all the
individuals of the same species are cast in the very same mould. These
individual differences are highly important for us, as they afford
materials for natural selection to accumulate, in the same manner as
man can accumulate in any given direction individual differences in
his domesticated productions. These individual differences generally
affect what naturalists consider unimportant parts; but I could show
by a long catalogue of facts, that parts which must be called
important, whether viewed under a physiological or classificatory
point of view, sometimes vary in the individuals of the same species.
I am convinced that the most experienced naturalist would be surprised
at the number of the cases of variability, even in important parts of
structure, which he could collect on good authority, as I have
collected, during a course of years. It should be remembered that
systematists are far from pleased at finding variability in important
characters, and that there are not many men who will laboriously
examine internal and important organs, and compare them in many
specimens of the same species. I should never have expected that the
branching of the main nerves close to the great central ganglion of an
insect would have been variable in the same species; I should have
expected that changes of this nature could have been effected only by
slow degrees: yet quite recently Mr. Lubbock has shown a degree of
variability in these main nerves in Coccus, which may almost be
compared to the irregular branching of the stem of a tree. This
philosophical naturalist, I may add, has also quite recently shown
that the muscles in the larvae of certain insects are very far from
uniform. Authors sometimes argue in a circle when they state that
important organs never vary; for these same authors practically rank
that character as important (as some few naturalists have honestly
confessed) which does not vary; and, under this point of view, no
instance of an important part varying will ever be found: but under
any other point of view many instances assuredly can be given.
There is one point connected with individual differences, which seems
to me extremely perplexing: I refer to those genera which have
sometimes been called "protean" or "polymorphic," in which the species
present an inordinate amount of variation; and hardly two naturalists
can agree which forms to rank as species and which as varieties. We
may instance Rubus, Rosa, and Hieracium amongst plants, several genera
of insects, and several genera of Brachiopod shells. In most
polymorphic genera some of the species have fixed and definite
characters. Genera which are polymorphic in one country seem to be,
with some few exceptions, polymorphic in other countries, and
likewise, judging from Brachiopod shells, at former periods of time.
These facts seem to be very perplexing, for they seem to show that
this kind of variability is independent of the conditions of life. I
am inclined to suspect that we see in these polymorphic genera
variations in points of structure which are of no service or
disservice to the species, and which consequently have not been seized
on and rendered definite by natural selection, as hereafter will be
explained.
Those forms which possess in some considerable degree the character of
species, but which are so closely similar to some other forms, or are
so closely linked to them by intermediate gradations, that naturalists
do not like to rank them as distinct species, are in several respects
the most important for us. We have every reason to believe that many
of these doubtful and closely-allied forms have permanently retained
their characters in their own country for a long time; for as long, as
far as we know, as have good and true species. Practically, when a
naturalist can unite two forms together by others having intermediate
characters, he treats the one as a variety of the other, ranking the
most common, but sometimes the one first described, as the species,
and the other as the variety. But cases of great difficulty, which I
will not here enumerate, sometimes occur in deciding whether or not to
rank one form as a variety of another, even when they are closely
connected by intermediate links; nor will the commonly-assumed hybrid
nature of the intermediate links always remove the difficulty. In very
many cases, however, one form is ranked as a variety of another, not
because the intermediate links have actually been found, but because
analogy leads the observer to suppose either that they do now
somewhere exist, or may formerly have existed; and here a wide door
for the entry of doubt and conjecture is opened.
Hence, in determining whether a form should be ranked as a species or
a variety, the opinion of naturalists having sound judgment and wide
experience seems the only guide to follow. We must, however, in many
cases, decide by a majority of naturalists, for few well-marked and
well-known varieties can be named which have not been ranked as
species by at least some competent judges.
That varieties of this doubtful nature are far from uncommon cannot be
disputed. Compare the several floras of Great Britain, of France or of
the United States, drawn up by different botanists, and see what a
surprising number of forms have been ranked by one botanist as good
species, and by another as mere varieties. Mr. H. C. Watson, to whom I
lie under deep obligation for assistance of all kinds, has marked for
me 182 British plants, which are generally considered as varieties,
but which have all been ranked by botanists as species; and in making
this list he has omitted many trifling varieties, but which
nevertheless have been ranked by some botanists as species, and he has
entirely omitted several highly polymorphic genera. Under genera,
including the most polymorphic forms, Mr. Babington gives 251 species,
whereas Mr. Bentham gives only 112,--a difference of 139 doubtful
forms! Amongst animals which unite for each birth, and which are
highly locomotive, doubtful forms, ranked by one zoologist as a
species and by another as a variety, can rarely be found within the
same country, but are common in separated areas. How many of those
birds and insects in North America and Europe, which differ very
slightly from each other, have been ranked by one eminent naturalist
as undoubted species, and by another as varieties, or, as they are
often called, as geographical races! Many years ago, when comparing,
and seeing others compare, the birds from the separate islands of the
Galapagos Archipelago, both one with another, and with those from the
American mainland, I was much struck how entirely vague and arbitrary
is the distinction between species and varieties. On the islets of the
little Madeira group there are many insects which are characterized as
varieties in Mr. Wollaston's admirable work, but which it cannot be
doubted would be ranked as distinct species by many entomologists.
Even Ireland has a few animals, now generally regarded as varieties,
but which have been ranked as species by some zoologists. Several most
experienced ornithologists consider our British red grouse as only a
strongly-marked race of a Norwegian species, whereas the greater
number rank it as an undoubted species peculiar to Great Britain. A
wide distance between the homes of two doubtful forms leads many
naturalists to rank both as distinct species; but what distance, it
has been well asked, will suffice? if that between America and Europe
is ample, will that between the Continent and the Azores, or Madeira,
or the Canaries, or Ireland, be sufficient? It must be admitted that
many forms, considered by highly-competent judges as varieties, have
so perfectly the character of species that they are ranked by other
highly-competent judges as good and true species. But to discuss
whether they are rightly called species or varieties, before any
definition of these terms has been generally accepted, is vainly to
beat the air.
Many of the cases of strongly-marked varieties or doubtful species
well deserve consideration; for several interesting lines of argument,
from geographical distribution, analogical variation, hybridism, etc.,
have been brought to bear on the attempt to determine their rank. I
will here give only a single instance,--the well-known one of the
primrose and cowslip, or Primula veris and elatior. These plants
differ considerably in appearance; they have a different flavour and
emit a different odour; they flower at slightly different periods;
they grow in somewhat different stations; they ascend mountains to
different heights; they have different geographical ranges; and
lastly, according to very numerous experiments made during several
years by that most careful observer Gartner, they can be crossed only
with much difficulty. We could hardly wish for better evidence of the
two forms being specifically distinct. On the other hand, they are
united by many intermediate links, and it is very doubtful whether
these links are hybrids; and there is, as it seems to me, an
overwhelming amount of experimental evidence, showing that they
descend from common parents, and consequently must be ranked as
varieties.
Close investigation, in most cases, will bring naturalists to an
agreement how to rank doubtful forms. Yet it must be confessed, that
it is in the best-known countries that we find the greatest number of
forms of doubtful value. I have been struck with the fact, that if any
animal or plant in a state of nature be highly useful to man, or from
any cause closely attract his attention, varieties of it will almost
universally be found recorded. These varieties, moreover, will be
often ranked by some authors as species. Look at the common oak, how
closely it has been studied; yet a German author makes more than a
dozen species out of forms, which are very generally considered as
varieties; and in this country the highest botanical authorities and
practical men can be quoted to show that the sessile and pedunculated
oaks are either good and distinct species or mere varieties.
When a young naturalist commences the study of a group of organisms
quite unknown to him, he is at first much perplexed to determine what
differences to consider as specific, and what as varieties; for he
knows nothing of the amount and kind of variation to which the group
is subject; and this shows, at least, how very generally there is some
variation. But if he confine his attention to one class within one
country, he will soon make up his mind how to rank most of the
doubtful forms. His general tendency will be to make many species, for
he will become impressed, just like the pigeon or poultry-fancier
before alluded to, with the amount of difference in the forms which he
is continually studying; and he has little general knowledge of
analogical variation in other groups and in other countries, by which
to correct his first impressions. As he extends the range of his
observations, he will meet with more cases of difficulty; for he will
encounter a greater number of closely-allied forms. But if his
observations be widely extended, he will in the end generally be
enabled to make up his own mind which to call varieties and which
species; but he will succeed in this at the expense of admitting much
variation,--and the truth of this admission will often be disputed by
other naturalists. When, moreover, he comes to study allied forms
brought from countries not now continuous, in which case he can hardly
hope to find the intermediate links between his doubtful forms, he
will have to trust almost entirely to analogy, and his difficulties
will rise to a climax.
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