In choosing a subject for this Address I have availed myself of the kindly usage which permits a sectional president to divert the attention of his hearers into those lines of inquiry which he himself is accustomed to pursue. Nevertheless, in taking the facts of breeding for my theme, I am sensible that this privilege is subjected to a certain strain.

Heredity—and Variation too—are matters of which no naturalist likes to admit himself entirely careless. Everyone knows that, somewhere hidden among the phenomena denoted by these terms, there must be principles which, in ways untraced, are ordering the destinies of living things. Experiments in Heredity have thus, as I am told, a universal fascination. All are willing to offer an outward deference to these studies. The limits of that homage, however, are soon reached, and, though all profess interest, few are impelled to make even the moderate mental effort needed to apprehend what has been already done. It is understood that Heredity is an important mystery, and Variation another mystery. The naturalist, the breeder, the horticulturist, the sociologist, man of science and man of practice alike, has daily occasion to make and to act on assumptions as to Heredity and Variation, but many seem well content that such phenomena should remain for ever mysterious.

The position of these studies is unique. At once fashionable and neglected, nominally the central common ground of botany and zoology, of morphology and physiology, belonging specially to neither, this area is thinly tenanted.

An exact determination of the laws of heredity will probably work more change in man's outlook on the world, and in his power over nature, than any other advance in natural knowledge that can be foreseen.

There is no doubt whatever that these laws can be determined. In comparison with the labour that has been needed for other great discoveries it is even likely that the necessary effort will be small. It is rather remarkable that while in other branches of physiology such great progress has of late been made, our knowledge of the phenomena of heredity has increased but little; though that these phenomena constitute the basis of all evolutionary science and the very central problem of natural history is admitted by all. Nor is this due to the special difficulty of such inquiries so much as to general neglect of the subject.

It is the hope of inducing others to pursue these lines of investigation that I take the problems of heredity as the subject of this lecture to the Royal Horticultural Society.

No one has better opportunities of pursuing such work than horticulturists. They are daily witnesses of the phenomena of heredity. Their success depends also largely on a knowledge of its laws, and obviously every increase in that knowledge is of direct and special importance to them.

The want of systematic study of heredity is due chiefly to misapprehension. It is supposed that such work requires a lifetime.

There are signs that the civilised world is at length awakening to the fact that the knowledge needed for the right direction of social progress must be gained by biological observation and experiment. Such a turn in public opinion would, we may be sure, have been viewed by Herbert Spencer with exceptional interest and approval. The truth, so obvious to the naturalist, that man is an animal, subject to the same physical laws of development as other animals, is a doctrine he constantly expounded, and perhaps his teaching did more than that of any other philosopher towards helping men to see themselves as they really are, stripped of the sanctity with which superstition and ignorance have through all ages invested the human species.

Spencer not only contributed that great service, but I suppose that no one ever looked forward with serener confidence or a fuller optimism to the consequences which follow upon a recognition of these natural facts, to the possibility of a further evolution of our species, and to the certainty that by his own action the destiny of man may be controlled. It is natural therefore that in a lecture founded to commemorate his work we should examine the possibilities of biological discovery as applied to the constitution and future of human society.

mr president and gentlemen: I need not say that I feel it a very high compliment for me, a layman, to be asked to address a professional meeting of this kind. When I received the invitation I hesitated for a moment as to whether anything I could say would have a sufficiently direct bearing on the subjects in which you are interested to justify me in occupying this place. Though I venture to call my paper “Mendelian Heredity and its Application to Man”, I ought to say that that application is rather for the future than for the present. We do know cases in man where the rules of inheritance traced in other animals and plants must certainly apply, but those cases are very few. On the other hand, I feel sure that if members of your profession were to take the matter up and study the phenomena of inheritance with due regard to those points which we now know to be critical, the list will be very soon increased.

The advance in knowledge which I am about to describe is the outcome of the work of Mendel. I have not time to tell you who Mendel was, or how it came about that his paper published in 1865 was completely ignored until 1900, when de Vries and others simultaneously rediscovered it. Nor need I go through the reasoning by which he worked out his discovery.

To Professor Weismann the gratitude of naturalists is ever due for two excellent services. He it was who first taught us to distinguish the “soma”, or body, from the germ, thus ridding evolutionary science of the distracting belief that the experience of the organism is transmitted to its offspring. Formerly “use and disuse” were good enough answers to any troublesome conundrum of adaptation. Weismann's demand for evidence that in a single case such effects were transmitted brought this vague reasoning to an end. The inheritance of acquired characters was then seen to be an assumption needing independent proof, and, when proof was called for, there was no reply that a critical mind could accept as valid. How much laborious argumentation collapsed when this keystone was withdrawn we need not now recall; but those who are now constructing a sound science of heredity on the basis of physiological fact know that it was by Weismann's thorough demolition that their ground was cleared.

It was, moreover, through his ingenious speculations as to the mechanism of heredity that efforts were concentrated on a determination of the exact processes by which germ cells are formed. Whatever be the interpretation, the visible facts are now known, a direct consequence of Weismann's stimulus and initiative, which will bear fruit hereafter.

But even with this record well in mind, it is impossible to pass a lenient judgment on The Evolution Theory. It should have appeared thirty years ago. Then Natural Selection was a new idea.

That secondary education in England fails to do what it might is scarcely in dispute. The magnitude of the failure will be appreciated by those who know what other countries accomplish at a fraction of the cost. Beyond the admission that something is seriously wrong there is little agreement. We are told that the curriculum is too exclusively classical, that the classes are too large, the teaching too dull, the boys too much away from home, the examination-system too oppressive, athletics overdone. All these things are probably true. Each cause contributes in its degree to the lamentable result. Yet, as it seems to me, we may remove them all without making any great improvement. All the circumstances may be varied, but that intellectual apathy which has become so marked a characteristic of English life, especially of English public and social life, may not improbably continue. Why nations pass into these morbid phases no one can tell. The spirit of the age, that “polarisation of society” as Tarde used to call it, in a definite direction, is brought about by no cause that can be named as yet. It will remain beyond volitional control at least until we get some real insight into social physiology. That the attitude or pose of the average Englishman towards education, knowledge and learning is largely a phenomenon of infectious imitation we know.

It shews, I think, remarkable catholicity that the Eugenics Education Society should have invited me to deliver the Galton Lecture, inasmuch as though engaged in studies cognate with your own and of a kind which furnish some of the basic materials upon which the eugenist builds, I have never seen my way to take a definite part in its activities nor even to become a member of your body. In introduction I should like to explain the position which in common with several genetical colleagues both here and in the United States I have thought it best to maintain in this respect. Whoever is occupied with the practical investigation of genetic physiology can scarcely be out of sympathy with your objects. Witnessing, as such a man does every day of his life, the consequences of the working of the laws of heredity, the knowledge that the destinies of mankind are governed by the same laws is to him an all-pervading truth. Of this fact he needs no reminder. The course of heredity varies in detail with the organism and the characteristic under investigation, but the nature of the control which heredity exerts is the same in all living things. Every creature that has life arises by the division of a pre-existing cell, and the nature of the offspring will be determined by that of the parent until men gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles.

The invitation to preside over the Agricultural Sub-Section on this occasion naturally gave me great pleasure, but after accepting it I have felt embarrassment in a considerable degree. The motto of the great Society which has been responsible for so much progress in agricultural affairs in this country very clearly expresses the subject of our deliberations in the words “Practice with Science”, and to be competent to address you, a man should be well conversant with both. But even if agriculture is allowed to include horticulture, as may perhaps be generally conceded, I am sadly conscious that my special qualifications are much weaker than you have a right to demand of a President.

The aspects of agriculture from which it offers hopeful lines for scientific attack are, in the main, three: Physiological, Pathological, and Genetic. All are closely interrelated, and for successful dealing with the problems of any one of these departments of research, knowledge of the results attained in the others is now almost indispensable. I myself can claim personal acquaintance with the third or genetic group alone, and therefore in considering how science is to be applied to the practical operations of agriculture, I must necessarily choose it as the more special subject of this address. I know very well that wider experience of those other branches of agricultural science or practical agriculture would give to my remarks a weight to which they cannot now pretend.

William bateson, the second child in a family of six, was born at Whitby on 8 August 1861. His father, William Henry, the fifth son of Richard Bateson, a prosperous merchant of Liverpool, was educated at Shrewsbury under Dr Samuel Butler, and at St John's College, Cambridge. He was a sound classical scholar. After reading for the Bar, he took orders, but eventually he settled in Cambridge. He was elected Public Orator in 1848, and Master of his College in 1857.

In the obituary notice by Professor Bonney, he is described as

He married (1857) Anna, the elder daughter of James Aikin, a prominent citizen of Liverpool. The son of a Writer to the Signet in Dumfries, Aikin came to Liverpool at about the age of 15 (1806), and after some few years in a merchant's office set up business on his own account.

He made many very successful voyages, chiefly to the West Indies, and subsequently introduced a fleet of clipper schooners, which at that period were amongst the fastest vessels afloat.

The two words which I have chosen as the title of this discourse are technical terms. Round them whole regions of modern biological discovery are grouped. I am warned that terms unfamiliar to the laity may repel an audience; but since the common speech as yet contains no good equivalents by which the concepts gamete and zygote may be rendered, and my purpose this afternoon is to set forth the leading ideas which Science has gained from those concepts, I therefore make so bold as to begin by naming them. The ideas we derive from a knowledge of the inter-relations of gamete and zygote are of so wide an application that they cannot be ignored by any person who aspires to form just views of the nature of man and of life. No one having learnt these ideas can look on the world with quite the same eyes as before. They have something of that fundamental quality which we associate with chemistry, and just as it is impossible to talk easily or freely of any natural phenomena with those who are wholly ignorant of chemistry, so are we conscious of difficulty when we discuss not merely formal problems of evolution or of heredity, but any broad question of social organisation with those wholly ignorant of genetic fact.

The position of science in its relation to the conduct and policy of nations is a theme which has been in the thoughts of most of us during these sad years. The end of the first act has come but the tragedy may soon begin again. We claim the proud title of scientific men, Makers, that is to say, of knowledge. In old times mankind was wont to turn to priests and lawgivers for counsel. We are witnessing the ruin to which a world professing the ideals of religion and law may come. Those ideals claim to have made the world we see. The counsels of science are as yet untried. Can the makers of natural knowledge help where the rest have failed? That is a question we may well consider in this partial respite from horror which may perhaps be brief.

A great cry has gone up in all the land; and not in our land alone, but through all the earth, for is there a house where there is not one dead? Caught in the wheels of a hideous destiny the young men of the nations and the innocent boys have been torn to pieces. The shattered victims from whom kindly death has turned aside wring our hearts in every public place. They went at the high call of Duty. The altar upon which they bled bears the glorious names of Patriotism and Duty.

It is with a special pleasure that I accepted the kind invitation of the Council to address this Conference of persons interested in hybridisation. Of all the methods which are open to us for investigating the facts of Natural History there is perhaps none which is more likely to bring forth results of firstrate importance. Not only is the field a vast one, but the work is ready to hand. Though the patience and labour needed are very great, the practical methods are simple, and can be in many cases carried out by any person who has leisure and is able to carry out anything accurately. Leisure, accuracy, and a garden of moderate extent are almost the only equipment necessary for such work. On the other hand, the scientific importance of the results to be obtained is transcendent.

It is perhaps simpler to follow the beaten track of classification or of comparative anatomy, or to make for the hundredth time collections of the plants and animals belonging to certain orders, or to compete in the production or cultivation of familiar forms of animals or plants. But all these pursuits demand great skill and unflagging attention. Any one of them may well take a man's whole life.

The outstanding feature of this Meeting must be the fact that we are here—in Australia. It is the function of a President to tell the Association of advances in science, to speak of the universal rather than of the particular or the temporary. There will be other opportunities of expressing the thoughts which this event must excite in the dullest heart, but it is right that my first words should take account of those achievements of organisation and those acts of national generosity by which it has come to pass that we are assembled in this country. Let us, too, on this occasion, remember that all the effort, and all the goodwill, that binds Australia to Britain would have been powerless to bring about such a result had it not been for those advances in science which have given man a control of the forces of Nature. For we are here by virtue of the feats of genius of individual men of science, giant variations from the common level of our species; and since I am going soon to speak of the significance of individual variation, I cannot introduce that subject better than by calling to remembrance the line of pioneers in chemistry, in physics, and in engineering, by the working of whose rare—or, if you will, abnormal—intellects a meeting of the British Association on this side of the globe has been made physically possible.

What will happen when civilised society thoroughly grasps what heredity means? There are signs, of which Mr Archdall Reid's book is only one, that that time may not be very far off. It is a mere accident that recognition of the plain facts has been delayed so long. Were the physiology of inheritance slightly less complex, its paramount importance would long ago have been evident to all, and man would have perceived that this is the point at which he can really shape his own destiny. The steady application of a breeding law would accomplish more in three generations than all the criminal and sanitary enactments that the centuries have devised. Mr Galton has been proclaiming this truth to a sceptical world for forty years. Nature, to use his antithesis, is much; nurture incomparably little. Circumstances have lately combined to bring these matters into prominence. Physical deterioration, the alarming increase in the relative numbers of the insane, the utility of teaching the minds of starving children, the relation of the State to the unemployed, and all questions of grave national anxiety—they are problems of national physiology, and as physiological problems they are at last beginning to be studied.

Political economists have hitherto incurred no reproach if their doctrine were not based on physiological evidence. That is not their department; and though illustrative references to such topics are considered becoming in their writings, neither economist nor politician has been expected to go to physiology for his fundamental facts.

Darwin's work has the property of greatness in that it may be admired from more aspects than one. For some the perception of the principle of Natural Selection stands out as his most wonderful achievement to which all the rest is subordinate. Others, among whom I would range myself, look up to him rather as the first who plainly distinguished, collected, and comprehensively studied that new class of evidence from which hereafter a true understanding of the process of Evolution may be developed. We each prefer our own standpoint of admiration; but I think that it will be in their wider aspect that his labours will most command the veneration of posterity.

A treatise written to advance knowledge may be read in two moods. The reader may keep his mind passive, willing merely to receive the impress of the writer's thought; or he may read with his attention strained and alert, asking at every instant how the new knowledge can be used in a further advance, watching continually for fresh footholds by which to climb higher still. Of Shelley it has been said that he was a poet for poets: so Darwin was a naturalist for naturalists. It is when his writings are used in the critical and more exacting spirit with which we test the outfit for our own enterprise that we learn their full value and strength.

You are a body interested in education, and in asking me, a biologist, to deliver this Presidential Address, I suppose it is your wish that I should speak of the problems of education as they look in the light of biological knowledge.

Like so many other things education in the active has aspects different from those it has in the passive. My own direct acquaintance with the subject is mostly of the passive kind. I underwent the treatment in its most drastic form. I have given a little of it, though not much: but having lived most of my life in Cambridge I have been in constant association with teachers and the taught. I have been continually in what is called an educational atmosphere—so I have watched an enormous number of cases. To speak still in the language of metaphor the majority of those cases have not recovered. I don't mean that they have actually perished or sunk into permanent mental disablement—though even that is true of a considerable number—but from the treatment provided for them at vast expense they have got very little, and I am sure they would have done about as well had they never undergone the process.