There is perhaps no phenomenon of nature that is at once so important, so universal, and so little understood, as the struggle for existence continually going on among all organised beings. To most persons nature appears calm, orderly, and peaceful. They see the birds singing in the trees, the insects hovering over the flowers, the squirrel climbing among the tree-tops, and all living things in the possession of health and vigour, and in the enjoyment of a sunny existence. But they do not see, and hardly ever think of, the means by which this beauty and harmony and enjoyment is brought about. They do not see the constant and daily search after food, the failure to obtain which means weakness or death; the constant effort to escape enemies; the ever-recurring struggle against the forces of nature. This daily and hourly struggle, this incessant warfare, is nevertheless the very means by which much of the beauty and harmony and enjoyment in nature is produced, and also affords one of the most important elements in bringing about the origin of species. We must, therefore, devote some time to the consideration of its various aspects and of the many curious phenomena to which it gives rise.

It is a matter of common observation that if weeds are allowed to grow unchecked in a garden they will soon destroy a number of the flowers. It is not so commonly known that if a garden is left to become altogether wild, the weeds that first take possession of it, often covering the whole surface of the ground with two or three different kinds, will themselves be supplanted by others, so that in a few years many of the original flowers and of the earliest weeds may alike have disappeared.

The theory which we may now take as established—that all the existing forms of life have been derived from other forms by a natural process of descent with modification, and that this same process has been in action during past geological time—should enable us to give a rational account not only of the peculiarities of form and structure presented by animals and plants, but also of their grouping together in certain areas, and their general distribution over the earth's surface.

In the absence of any exact knowledge of the facts of distribution, a student of the theory of evolution might naturally anticipate that all groups of allied organisms would be found in the same region, and that, as he travelled farther and farther from any given centre, the forms of life would differ more and more from those which prevailed at the starting-point, till, in the remotest regions to which he could penetrate, he would find an entirely new assemblage of animals and plants, altogether unlike those with which he was familiar. He would also anticipate that diversities of climate would always be associated with a corresponding diversity in the forms of life.

The colours of plants are both less definite and less complex than are those of animals, and their interpretation on the principle of utility is, on the whole, more direct and more easy. Yet here, too, we find that in our investigation of the uses of the various colours of fruits and flowers, we are introduced to some of the most obscure recesses of nature's workshop, and are confronted with problems of the deepest interest and of the utmost complexity.

So much has been written on this interesting subject since Mr. Darwin first called attention to it, and its main facts have become so generally known by means of lectures, articles, and popular books, that I shall give here a mere outline sketch, for the purpose of leading up to a discussion of some of the more fundamental problems which arise out of the facts, and which have hitherto received less attention than they deserve.

The green colour of the foliage of leafy plants is due to the existence of a substance called chlorophyll, which is almost universally developed in the leaves under the action of light.

In the preceding chapters we have accumulated a body of facts and arguments which will enable us now to deal with the very core of our subject—the formation of species by means of natural selection. We have seen how tremendous is the struggle for existence always going on in nature owing to the great powers of increase of all organisms; we have ascertained the fact of variability extending to every part and organ, each of which varies simultaneously and for the most part independently; and we have seen that this variability is both large in its amount in proportion to the size of each part, and usually affects a considerable proportion of the individuals in the large and dominant species. And, lastly, we have seen how similar variations, occurring in cultivated plants and domestic animals, are capable of being perpetuated and accumulated by artificial selection, till they have resulted in all the wonderful varieties of our fruits, flowers, and vegetables, our domestic animals and household pets, many of which differ from each other far more in external characters, habits, and instincts than do species in a state of nature. We have now to inquire whether there is any analogous process in nature, by which wild animals and plants can be permanently modified and new races or new species produced.

Effect of Struggle for Existence under Unchanged Conditions.

Let us first consider what will be the effect of the struggle for existence upon the animals and plants which we see around us, under conditions which do not perceptibly vary from year to year or from century to century.

The title of Mr. Darwin's great work is—On the Origin of Species by means of Natural Selection and the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. In order to appreciate fully the aim and object of this work, and the change which it has effected not only in natural history but in many other sciences, it is necessary to form a clear conception of the meaning of the term “species,” to know what was the general belief regarding them at the time when Mr. Darwin's book first appeared, and to understand what he meant, and what was generally meant, by discovering their “origin.” It is for want of this preliminary knowledge that the majority of educated persons who are not naturalists are so ready to accept the innumerable objections, criticisms, and difficulties of its opponents as proofs that the Darwinian theory is unsound, while it also renders them unable to appreciate, or even to comprehend, the vast change which that theory has effected in the whole mass of thought and opinion on the great question of evolution.

The term “species” was thus defined by the celebrated botanist De Candolle: “A species is a collection of all the individuals which resemble each other more than they resemble anything else, which can by mutual fecundation produce fertile individuals, and which reproduce themselves by generation, in such a manner that we may from analogy suppose them all to have sprung from one single individual.”

We have now to deal with a class of colours which are the very opposite of those we have hitherto considered, since, instead of serving to conceal the animals that possess them or as recognition marks to their associates, they are developed for the express purpose of rendering the species conspicuous. The reason of this is that the animals in question are either the possessors of some deadly weapons, as stings or poison fangs, or they are uneatable, and are thus so disagreeable to the usual enemies of their kind that they are never attacked when their peculiar powers or properties are known. It is, therefore, important that they should not be mistaken for defenceless or eatable species of the same class or order, since in that case they might suffer injury, or even death, before their enemies discovered the danger or the uselessness of the attack. They require some signal or danger-flag which shall serve as a warning to would-be enemies not to attack them, and they have usually obtained this in the form of conspicuous or brilliant coloration, very distinct from the protective tints of the defenceless animals allied to them.

Our review of modern Darwinism might fitly have terminated with the preceding chapter; but the immense interest that attaches to the origin of the human race, and the amount of misconception which prevails regarding the essential teachings of Darwin's theory on this question, as well as regarding my own special views upon it, induce me to devote a final chapter to its discussion.

To any one who considers the structure of man's body, even in the most superficial manner, it must be evident that it is the body of an animal, differing greatly, it is true, from the bodies of all other animals, but agreeing with them in all essential features. The bony structure of man classes him as a vertebrate; the mode of suckling his young classes him as a mammal; his blood, his muscles, and his nerves, the structure of his heart with its veins and arteries, his lungs and his whole respiratory and circulatory systems, all closely correspond to those of other mammals, and are often almost identical with them. He possesses the same number of limbs terminating in the same number of digits as belong fundamentally to the mammalian class. His senses are identical with theirs, and his organs of sense are the same in number and occupy the same relative position.

Having so fully discussed variation under nature it will be unnecessary to devote so much space to domesticated animals and cultivated plants, especially as Mr. Darwin has published two remarkable volumes on the subject where those who desire it may obtain ample information. A general sketch of the more important facts will, however, be given, for the purpose of showing how closely they correspond with those described in the preceding chapter, and also to point out the general principles which they illustrate. It will also be necessary to explain how these variations have been increased and accumulated by artificial selection, since we are thereby better enabled to understand the action of natural selection, to be discussed in the succeeding chapter.

The facts of Variation and Artificial Selection.

Every one knows that in each litter of kittens or of puppies no two are alike. Even in the case in which several are exactly alike in colours, other differences are always perceptible to those who observe them closely. They will differ in size, in the proportions of their bodies and limbs, in the length or texture of their hairy covering, and notably in their disposition. They each possess, too, an individual countenance, almost as varied when closely studied as that of a human being; not only can a shepherd distinguish every sheep in his flock, but we all know that each kitten in the successive families of our old favourite cat has a face of its own, with an expression and individuality distinct from all its brothers and sisters.

One of the greatest, or perhaps we may say the greatest, of all the difficulties in the way of accepting the theory of natural selection as a complete explanation of the origin of species, has been the remarkable difference between varieties and species in respect of fertility when crossed. Generally speaking, it may be said that the varieties of any one species, however different they may be in external appearance, are perfectly fertile when crossed, and their mongrel offspring are equally fertile when bred among themselves; while distinct species, on the other hand, however closely they may resemble each other externally, are usually infertile when crossed, and their hybrid offspring absolutely sterile. This used to be considered a fixed law of nature, constituting the absolute test and criterion of a species as distinct from a variety; and so long as it was believed that species were separate creations, or at all events had an origin quite distinct from that of varieties, this law could have no exceptions, because, if any two species had been found to be fertile when crossed and their hybrid offspring to be also fertile, this fact would have been held to prove them to be not species but varieties. On the other hand, if two varieties had been found to be infertile, or their mongrel offspring to be sterile, then it would have been said: These are not varieties but true species. Thus the old theory led to inevitable reasoning in a circle; and what might be only a rather common fact was elevated into a law which had no exceptions.

Among the numerous applications of the Darwinian theory in the interpretation of the complex phenomena presented by the organic world, none have been more successful, or are more interesting, than those which deal with the colours of animals and plants. To the older school of naturalists colour was a trivial character, eminently unstable and untrustworthy in the determination of species; and it appeared to have, in most cases, no use or meaning to the objects which displayed it. The bright and often gorgeous coloration of insect, bird, or flower, was either looked upon as having been created for the enjoyment of mankind, or as due to unknown and perhaps undiscoverable laws of nature.

But the researches of Mr. Darwin totally changed our point of view in this matter. He showed, clearly, that some of the colours of animals are useful, some hurtful to them; and he believed that many of the most brilliant colours were developed by sexual choice; while his great general principle, that all the fixed characters of organic beings have been developed under the action of the law of utility, led to the inevitable conclusion that so remarkable and conspicuous a character as colour, which so often constitutes the most obvious distinction of species from species, or group from group, must also have arisen from survival of the fittest, and must, therefore, in most cases have some relation to the wellbeing of its possessors. Continuous observation and research, carried on by multitudes of observers during the last thirty years, have shown this to be the case; but the problem is found to be far more complex than was at first supposed.

In the present chapter I propose to discuss the more obvious and often repeated objections to Darwin's theory, and to show how far they affect its character as a true and sufficient explanation of the origin of species. The more recondite difficulties, affecting such fundamental questions as the causes and laws of variability, will be left for a future chapter, after we have become better acquainted with the applications of the theory to the more important adaptations and correlations of animal and plant life.

One of the earliest and most often repeated objections was, that it was difficult “to imagine a reason why variations tending in an infinitesimal degree in any special direction should be preserved,” or to believe that the complex adaptation of living organisms could have been produced “by infinitesimal beginnings.” Now this term “infinitesimal,” used by a well-known early critic of the Origin of Species, was never made use of by Darwin himself, who spoke only of variations being “slight,” and of the “small amount” of the variations that might be selected. Even in using these terms he undoubtedly afforded grounds for the objection above made, that such small and slight variations could be of no real use, and would not determine the survival of the individuals possessing them. We have seen, however, in our third chapter, that even Darwin's terms were hardly justified; and that the variability of many important species is of considerable amount, and may very often be properly described as large.