The gain in constitutional vigour, derived from an occasional cross between individuals of the same variety, but belonging to distinct families, or between distinct varieties, has not been so largely or so frequently discussed, as have the evil effects of too close interbreeding. But the former point is the more important of the two, inasmuch as the evidence is more decisive. The evil results from close interbreeding are difficult to detect, for they accumulate slowly, and differ much in degree with different species; whilst the good effects which almost invariably follow a cross are from the first manifest. It should, however, be clearly understood that the advantage of close interbreeding, as far as the retention of character is concerned, is indisputable, and often outweighs the evil of a slight loss of constitutional vigour. In relation to the subject of domestication, the whole question is of some importance, as too close interbreeding interferes with the improvement of old races, and especially with the formation of new ones. It is important as indirectly bearing on Hybridism; and perhaps on the extinction of species, when any form has become so rare that only a few individuals remain within a confined area. It bears in an important manner on the influence of free intercrossing, in obliterating individual differences, and thus giving uniformity of character to the individuals of the same race or species; for if additional vigour and fertility be thus gained, the crossed offspring will multiply and prevail, and the ultimate result will be far greater than otherwise would have occurred.

The differences described in the last chapter between the eleven chief domestic races and between individual birds of the same race, would be of little significance, if they had not all descended from a single wild stock. The question of their origin is therefore of fundamental importance, and must be discussed at considerable length. No one will think this superfluous who considers the great amount of difference between the races, who knows how ancient many of them are, and how truly they breed at the present day. Fanciers almost unanimously believe that the different races are descended from several wild stocks, whereas most naturalists believe that all are descended from the Columba livia or rock-pigeon.

Temminck has well observed, and Mr. Gould has made the same remark to me, that the aboriginal parent must have been a species which roosted and built its nest on rocks; and I may add that it must have been a social bird. For all the domestic races are highly social, and none are known to build or habitually to roost on trees. The awkward manner in which some pigeons, kept by me in a summer-house near an old walnut-tree, occasionally alighted on the barer branches, was evident. Nevertheless, Mr. R. Scot Skirving informs me that he often saw crowds of pigeons in Upper Egypt settling on the low trees, but not on the palms, in preference to the mud hovels of the natives.

I shall not enter into so much detail on the variability of cultivated plants, as in the case of domesticated animals. The subject is involved in much difficulty. Botanists have generally neglected cultivated varieties, as beneath their notice. In several cases the wild prototype is unknown or doubtfully known; and in other cases it is hardly possible to distinguish between escaped seedlings and truly wild plants, so that there is no safe standard of comparison by which to judge of any supposed amount of change. Not a few botanists believe that several of our anciently cultivated plants have become so profoundly modified that it is not possible now to recognise their aboriginal parent-forms. Equally perplexing are the doubts whether some of them are descended from one species, or from several inextricably commingled by crossing and variation. Variations often pass into, and cannot be distinguished from, monstrosities; and monstrosities are of little significance for our purpose. Many varieties are propagated solely by grafts, buds, layers, bulbs, &c., and frequently it is not known how far their peculiarities can be transmitted by seminal generation. Nevertheless some facts of value can be gleaned; and other facts will hereafter be incidentally given. One chief object in the two following chapters is to show how generally almost every character in our cultivated plants has become variable.

I have been led to study domestic pigeons with particular care, because the evidence that all the domestic races have descended from one known source is far clearer than with any other anciently domesticated animal. Secondly, because many treatises in several languages, some of them old, have been written on the pigeon, so that we are enabled to trace the history of several breeds. And lastly, because, from causes which we can partly understand, the amount of variation has been extraordinarily great. The details will often be tediously minute; but no one who really wants to understand the progress of change in domestic animals will regret this; and no one who has kept pigeons and has marked the great difference between the breeds and the trueness with which most of them propagate their kind, will think this care superfluous. Notwithstanding the clear evidence that all the breeds are the descendants of a single species, I could not persuade myself until some years had passed that the whole amount of difference between them had arisen since man first domesticated the wild rock-pigeon.

I have kept alive all the most distinct breeds, which I could procure in England or from the Continent; and have prepared skeletons of all. I have received skins from Persia, and a large number from India and other quarters of the world.

If we ask ourselves why this or that character has been modified under domestication, we are, in most cases lost in utter darkness. Many naturalists, especially of the French school, attribute every modification to the “monde ambiant,” that is, to changed climate, with all its diversities of heat and cold, dampness and dryness, light and electricity, to the nature of the soil, and to varied kinds and amount of food. By the term definite action, as used in this chapter, I mean an action of such a nature that, when many individuals of the same variety are exposed during several generations to any change in their physical conditions of life, all, or nearly all the individuals, are modified in the same manner. A new sub-variety would thus be produced without the aid of selection.

I do not include under the term of definite action the effects of habit or of the increased use and disuse of various organs. Modifications of this nature, no doubt, are definitely caused by the conditions to which the beings are subjected; but they depend much less on the nature of the conditions than on the laws of growth; hence they are included under a distinct head in the following chapter. We know, however, far too little of the causes and laws of variation to make a sound classification.

As summaries have been added to nearly all the chapters, and as, in the chapter on pangenesis, various subjects, such as the forms of reproduction, inheritance, reversion, the causes and laws of variability, &c., have been recently discussed, I will here only make a few general remarks on the more important conclusions which may be deduced from the multifarious details given throughout this work.

Savages in all parts of the world easily succeed in taming wild animals; and those inhabiting any country or island, when first invaded by man, would probably have been still more easily tamed. Complete subjugation generally depends on an animal being social in its habits, and on receiving man as the chief of the herd or family. Domestication implies almost complete fertility under new and changed conditions of life, and this is far from being invariably the case. An animal would not have been worth the labour of domestication, at least during early times, unless of service to man. From these circumstances the number of domesticated animals has never been large. With respect to plants, I have shown in the ninth chapter how their varied uses were probably first discovered, and the early steps in their cultivation. Man could not have known, when he first domesticated an animal or plant, whether it would flourish and multiply when transported to other countries, therefore he could not have been thus influenced in his choice.

In this and the two following chapters I shall discuss, as well as the difficulty of the subject permits, the several laws which govern Variability. These may be grouped under the effects of use and disuse, including changed habits and acclimatisation–arrests of development–correlated variation–the cohesion of homologous parts–the variability of multiple parts–compensation of growth–the position of buds with respect to the axis of the plant–and lastly, analogous variation. These several subjects so graduate into each other that their distinction is often arbitrary.

It may be convenient first briefly to discuss that co-ordinating and reparative power which is common, in a higher or lower degree, to all organic beings, and which was formerly designated by physiologists as the nisus formativus.

The history of the Horse is lost in antiquity. Remains of this animal in a domesticated condition have been found in the Swiss lake-dwellings, belonging to the latter part of the Stone period. At the present time the number of breeds is great, as may be seen by consulting any treatise on the Horse. Looking only to the native ponies of Great Britain, those of the Shetland Isles, Wales, the New Forest, and Devonshire are distinguishable; and so it is with each separate island in the great Malay archipelago. Some of the breeds present great differences in size, shape of ears, length of mane, proportions of the body, form of the withers and hind quarters, and especially in the head. Compare the race-horse, dray-horse, and a Shetland pony in size, configuration, and disposition; and see how much greater the difference is than between the six or seven other living species of the genus Equus.

Of individual variations not known to characterise particular breeds, and not great or injurious enough to be called monstrosities, I have not collected many cases. Mr. G. Brown, of the Cirencester Agricultural College, who has particularly attended to the dentition of our domestic animals, writes to me that he has “several times noticed eight permanent incisors instead of six in the jaw.” Male horses alone properly have canines, but they are occasionally found in the mare, though of small size.

The subject of inheritance is an immense one, and has been treated by many authors. One work alone, ‘De l'Hérédité Naturelle,’ by Dr. Prosper Lucas, runs to the length of 1562 pages. We must confine ourselves to certain points which have an important bearing on the general subject of variation, both with domestic and natural productions. It is obvious that a variation which is not inherited throws no light on the derivation of species, nor is of any service to man, except in the case of perennial plants, which can be propagated by buds.

If animals and plants had never been domesticated, and wild ones alone had been observed, we should probably never have heard the saying, that “like begets like.” The proposition would have been as self-evident, as that all the buds on the same tree are alike, though neither proposition is strictly true. For, as has often been remarked, probably no two individuals are identically the same. All wild animals recognise each other, which shows that there is some difference between them; and when the eye is well practised, the shepherd knows each sheep, and man can distinguish a fellow-man out of millions on millions of other men. Some authors have gone so far as to maintain that the production of slight differences is as much a necessary function of the powers of generation, as the production of offspring like their parents.

The first and chief point of interest in this chapter is, whether the numerous domesticated varieties of the dog have descended from a single wild species, or from several. Some authors believe that all have descended from the wolf, or from the jackal, or from an unknown and extinct species. Others again believe, and this of late has been the favourite tenet, that they have descended from several species, extinct and recent, more or less commingled together. We shall probably never be able to ascertain their origin with certainty. Palæontology does not throw much light on the question, owing, on the one hand, to the close similarity of the skulls of extinct as well as living wolves and jackals, and owing on the other hand to the great dissimilarity of the skulls of the several breeds of the domestic dogs. It seems, however, that remains have been found in the later tertiary deposits more like those of a large dog than of a wolf, which favours the belief of De Blainville that our dogs are the descendants of a single extinct species. On the other hand, some authors go so far as to assert that every chief domestic breed must have had its wild prototype.

The object of this work is not to describe all the many races of animals which have been domesticated by man, and of the plants which have been cultivated by him; even if I possessed the requisite knowledge, so gigantic an undertaking would be here superfluous. It is my intention to give under the head of each species only such facts as I have been able to collect or observe, showing the amount and nature of the changes which animals and plants have undergone whilst under man's dominion, or which bear on the general principles of variation. In one case alone, namely in that of the domestic pigeon, I will describe fully all the chief races, their history, the amount and nature of their differences, and the probable steps by which they have been formed. I have selected this case, because, as we shall hereafter see, the materials are better than in any other; and one case fully described will in fact illustrate all others. But I shall also describe domesticated rabbits, fowls, and ducks, with considerable fullness.

The subjects discussed in this volume are so connected that it is not a little difficult to decide how they can be best arranged. I have determined in the first part to give, under the heads of the various animals and plants, a large body of facts, some of which may at first appear but little related to our subject, and to devote the latter part to general discussions.

In February, 1778, the University of Edinburgh conferred on Mr. Dinwiddie the distinction of Master of Arts. His passion, however, for philosophical studies had by this time involved him in embarrassment. The first cost of his apparatus plunged him at once into a debt of one hundred and fifty pounds, to pay off which the only scheme, that carried probability of success, was that of giving public lectures. The indulgence of the magistrates and council of Dumfries enabled him to put this into execution, and the approbation of his friends encouraged him to go on. Among the list of Mr. Dinwiddie's approvers occurs the name of Professor Dugald Stewart, who writes him an invitation to give them some instruction in Ayr. Leave of absence was asked but for a limited period, as he still retained the control of the academy, where he placed an assistant to take the immediate charge till his return. Thus prepared, he set out, in the summer of 1778, to amuse the learned, and instruct those who do not fall under this denomination, by a set of lectures on natural philosophy, assisted by a powerful train of experiments.

Bending his steps to the north, his expectations were fully realised, particularly at Edinburgh, Leith, and Dundee. In the spring of the following year he made a successful tour through Galloway, and, contrary to advice received from most respectable authority, as a peculiarly unfortunate period, passed over into Ireland, on the 18th July.

The great principle of inheritance to be discussed in this chapter has been recognised by agriculturists and authors of various nations, as shown by the scientific term Atavism, derived from atavus, an ancestor; by the English terms of Reversion, or Throwing back; by the French Pas-en-arrière; and by the German Rück-schlag, or Rück-schritt. When the child resembles either grandparent more closely than its immediate parents, our attention is not much arrested, though in truth the fact is highly remarkable; but when the child resembles some remote ancestor, or some distant member in a collateral line,–and we must attribute the latter case to the descent of all the members from a common progenitor,–we feel a just degree of astonishment. When one parent alone displays some newly-acquired and generally inheritable character, and the offspring do not inherit it, the cause may lie in the other parent having the power of prepotent transmission. But when both parents are similarly characterised, and the child does not, whatever the cause may be, inherit the character in question, but resembles its grandparents, we have one of the simplest cases of reversion.