Option No. 8100047

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Place punctuation marks. Choose two sentences in which you want to put ONE comma. Write down the numbers of these sentences.

1) The sound of a motor or the crunch of a fallen tree was heard in the distance.

2) Vasily Porfirych handed out a microscopic piece of prosphora to the children, drank tea and sat down in the office.

3) This was a gentleman of middle age, prim and portly, with a cautious and peevish physiognomy.

4) For centuries, these trees have been related to us and gave our ancestors creaky bast shoes and a smokeless torch.

5) Darwin was distinguished almost all his life by poor health, and this did not prevent him from showing the highest level of intensity of mental labor.

Answer:

1) Climatic conditions regions affect both the architecture of buildings and the layout of apartments.

2) For the development of new models of technology, both equipment and highly qualified workers, both engineering and technical personnel and experimental plants, are needed.

3) The products of many machine-building plants are difficult to transport due to their large weight or large dimensions.

4) During botanical excursions and surveys in many regions and regions, observations were made and information was collected on the use of plants in folk medicine.

5) The fire of a fire flares up and then goes out.

Answer:

Set up punctuation marks. Indicate the numbers of sentences in which you need to put ONE comma

1) The pianist masterfully performed his own and other people's compositions and easily read unfamiliar works from a sheet.

2) Tea with fragrant honey was especially tasty and we sat for a long time at a cleanly planed white table in the garden. 3) Pictures and vases and other details of the interior reflected the refinement of the taste of its owner.

4) Sometimes Ilyusha's gaze was filled with an expression of fatigue or boredom.

5) The artist was fascinated not only by the beauty of the view that opened before him, but also by the variety of natural forms.

Answer:

1) The old forester was not afraid untrodden paths and deep caves and did not frighten meeting with wild animals.

2) I saw only the tops of the willows and the steep edge of the opposite bank.

3) Siberia has many features both in nature and in human customs.

4) Chelkash regretted this young life, laughed at her and even grieved for her.

5) Closer to autumn, my swallows flew to the nest less and less and then circled in the yard, told me something in their bird language and flew away to warm lands.

Answer:

1) The fire in the forest either flared up and grew, then decreased and almost went out.

2) There was a constant shortage of specialist drivers both in the rear and at the front.

3) In our area it is rainy in August and in September and in October.

4) And the soldier knows for himself that he eats stew and praises.

5) autumn evenings we walked in the park or sat by the fireplace and told each other stories.

Answer:

Set up punctuation marks. Indicate the numbers of the two sentences in which you need to put ONE comma.

1) He walked and moved without any noise, always fussed and fiddled around in secret.

2) Forests and meadows and the sky seemed to be sleeping with open eyes.

3) Some philosophers and a half-educated student started an endless argument.

4) Sofas and chairs were made of light wood and smelled like cypress.

5) Even the coachmen have submitted to his influence and every day they not only wipe their collars and clean the coats, but also wash their own faces.

Answer:

Set up punctuation marks. Write two sentences in which you need to put ONE comma. Write down the numbers of these sentences.

1) The German artist Dürer traveled extensively in Italy and the Netherlands and was well acquainted with the art of these countries.

2) The clouds began to blacken behind the mountains and only the sun shone with bright rays.

3) The artist was able to convey the appearance of this person and the character and mood.

4) The sun is a powerful source of both light and heat and other radiations.

5) Part of the population, either on foot or in carts or in cars, moved out of the city.

Answer:

Set up punctuation marks. Indicate the numbers of sentences in which you need to put ONE comma

1) And he does not see and does not hear and does not notice anything and talks to himself!

2) There was a noise in my head, either from the howling and whistling of the storm, or from joyful excitement.

3) The fellow traveler did not hear what was said or ignored my hint.

4) To check the spelling of an unstressed vowel of the root, you need to change the word or choose a related one.

5) The flexible ends of the ferns swayed gracefully, and again everything was quiet.

• Translation

Many famous scientists have something in common: they didn't work long hours a day.

When studying the lives of the most creative people in history, one encounters a paradox: they devoted their entire lives, but not all day, to their work. People as diverse as Charles Dickens, Henri Poincaré and Ingmar Bergman worked in disparate fields at different times, all of whom had a passion for their work, huge ambitions and an almost superhuman ability to concentrate. But if you study their daily life in detail, it turns out that they spent only a few hours a day on what is considered their most important work. The rest of the time they climbed mountains, slept, walked with friends, or just sat and thought. Their creativity and productivity were not the result of endless hours of hard work. Their accomplishments come from a modest amount of working hours.

How did they achieve everything? Can a generation raised to believe in the need for an 80-hour workweek to achieve success learn anything from the lives of people who laid the foundations of chaos theory, topology, or wrote "Great Expectations"?

I think maybe. If the greatest figures in history didn't work long hours a day, then perhaps the key to their creativity will be to understand not only how they worked, but also how they rested, and how the two activities are connected.

We begin by examining the lives of two figures. Both of them achieved major success in life. And how lucky they were neighbors and friends, living nearby, in the village of Down, southeast of London. And, in many ways, their lives give us a glimpse of how work, play, and creativity are connected.

Imagine, for starters, a silent, cloaked figure walking home along a path winding through the countryside. Sometimes in the morning he walks with his head down, immersed in his thoughts. Sometimes he walks slowly, stopping to listen to the sounds of the forest. This habit he "followed in the rainforests of Brazil" during his service as a naturalist in the Royal Navy, collecting animals, studying the geography and geology of South America, laying the foundations for a career that would reach its pinnacle with the publication of On the Origin of Species in 1859. Now Charles Darwin has grown old, and has moved from collecting to theoretical work. His ability to move silently reflects his concentration and need for silence. According to his son Francis, Darwin could move so quietly that he once "approached a fox playing with her cubs within a few meters" and often greeted the foxes returning from a night hunt.

If those same foxes were to meet Darwin's neighbour, John Lubbock, 1st Baron Avebury, they would flee for their own skins. Lubbock liked to start the day with a walk through the countryside in the company of his hunting dogs. If Darwin was a bit like Mr. Bennet from Pride and Prejudice - a respectable middle-class gentleman, polite and honest, but preferring the company of family and books, Lubbock was more like Mr Bingley, extrovert, enthusiast, rich enough to advance in society and life. Over the years, Darwin was tormented by various illnesses; Lubbock, even in his 60s, showed "the relaxed grace of an 18-year-old student," as one of his guests said. But the neighbors shared a love of science, even though their work varied as much as their personalities.

After a morning walk and breakfast, Darwin was already in the office by 8 o'clock, and worked for an hour and a half. At 9:30 he was reading the morning mail and writing letters. At 10:30 he returned to more serious work, sometimes moving to an aviary, greenhouse, or other structure in which he conducted his experiments. By noon, he would announce that "the work is done for today" and go for a walk along the sandy path he had laid shortly after buying the Down House. Part of it was on land leased to him by the Lubbock family. Returning an hour later with something, Darwin dined, and again answered letters. At 15 o'clock he went to sleep a little. An hour later he got up, walked along the path again, and returned to the office, after which at 17:30 he joined his wife, Emma and their family for dinner. In such a schedule, he wrote 19 books, including technical literature on creepers, sea ducks, and other topics; the controversial work "The Origin of Man and Sexual Selection"; "Origin of Species" is probably the most famous book in the history of science, which still influences how we think of nature and ourselves.

Whoever studied this graph, he could not immediately pay attention to the paradox. Darwin's life revolved around science. From his student days, Darwin devoted himself to scientific gathering, research and theories. She and Emma moved to the countryside from London so they could have more space for family and scientific work. Down House provided him with a place for laboratories and greenhouses, and countryside- peace and quiet necessary for work. But at the same time, his days do not seem very busy to us. The time that we would call "work" consisted of three 90-minute intervals. If he was modern professor university, he would have been denied a permanent academic position. If he had worked for a commercial organization, he would have been fired within a week.

It's not that Darwin didn't care about time or lacked ambition. Darwin was extremely strict with time, and, despite the means at his disposal, he believed that there was no time to waste. Traveling around the world aboard the Beagle, he wrote to his sister, Susan Elizabeth, that "the man who dares to spend an hour of his life has not understood its value." When he considered whether he should get married, one of his concerns was "wasting time - no time to read in the evenings," and in his journals he noted the time lost to chronic diseases. His love of science was "reinforced by a desire to earn the respect of my fellow naturalists," he admitted in his autobiography. He was passionate and enthusiastic, so much so that sometimes he felt panic attacks in connection with their ideas and their consequences.

John Lubbock is far less famous than Darwin, but by the time of his death in 1912 he was "one of the most successful English amateur scientists, one of the most prolific and successful authors of his time, one of the most committed social reformers, and one of the most Successful Lawyers in the New History of Parliament”. Lubbock's scientific interests extended to paleontology, animal psychology, and entomology—he invented the ant farm—but his most permanent work was archeology. His work popularized the terms Paleolithic and Neolithic, which are still used by archaeologists today. His purchase of Avebury, an ancient settlement southwest of London, kept the local stone monuments from being destroyed by builders. Today it is comparable in popularity and archaeological importance to Stonehenge, and the preservation of the site earned him the title of Baron of Avebury in 1900.

Lubbock's achievements are not limited to science. From his father, he inherited a prosperous bank, and turned it into a real force in the financial world of the late Victorian period. He helped modernize the British banking system. He spent decades in Parliament, where he was a successful and respected legislator. His bibliography includes 29 books, many of which have become bestsellers and have been translated into many languages. The exorbitant volume of his labors did not lose comparison even with his most successful contemporaries. “How you find time” for science, writing, politics, and business “is a mystery to me,” Darwin told him in 1881.

It's tempting to imagine Lubbock as the equivalent of a modern, highly motivated alpha male, something like Tony Stark in a steampunk entourage. But here's the catch: his political fame was based on promoting recreation. The British bank holidays - four public holidays - were invented by him, and they, coming into force in 1871, cemented his reputation. They were so loved and associated with him so strongly that they were nicknamed "St. Lubbock". For decades, he fought for the adoption of the “short working day law”, which limited the working hours of people under 18 to 74 (!) Hours a week; and when it was finally passed in April 1903, 30 years after the struggle began, it was called the "Avebury law".

Lubbock himself behaved according to his convictions. It may have been difficult to keep such a schedule in Parliament, when debates and votes could be delayed well after midnight, but on his estate of High Elms he rose at 6:30, and, after prayers, riding and breakfast, began work at 8: thirty. He divided the day into half-hour blocks, a habit he picked up from his father. After much practice, he could turn his attention from the "twisted financial question" of his partners or clients to "such a biological problem as parthenogenesis" without batting an eyelid. Around noon he spent a couple of hours outdoors. He was an enthusiastic cricketer and regularly invited professional players to his estate as coaches. His younger brothers were playing football; two of them took part in the final of the very first FA Cup in 1872. He was also very fond of playing "fives", a handball-like game in which he excelled at Eton. Later, after taking up golf, Lubbock replaced the cricket pitch on his estate with a 9-hole golf course.

It turns out that, despite differences in character and achievement, both Darwin and Lubbock were able to do what today is considered increasingly unusual. Their lives were full, their works were amazing, and yet their days were filled with inactivity.

It looks like a contradiction, or a balance, unattainable for most of us. But it's not. As we shall see, Darwin, Lubbock, and other creative and prolific personalities did not achieve success in spite of free time; they were successful because of him. And even in today's world of 24/7 presence, we can learn how to balance work and play in a way that makes us smarter, more creative, and happier.

According to famous study, the best students the violin was played not by those who practiced the most, but by those who knew when to stop.

Darwin is not the only famous scientist who has combined a lifetime of dedication to science with a short day's work. Similar cases can be traced in many other careers, and for several reasons it is better to start with scientists. Science is a highly competitive and all-consuming occupation. The achievements of scientists - the number of articles and books, awards, the number of citations of works - are strictly documented, and they are easy to measure and compare. As a result, their legacy is easier to define than that of business leaders or celebrities. At the same time, scientific disciplines differ from each other, which gives us a useful variety in work habits and personality traits. In addition, most scientists were not subject to the emergence of myths that usually surround business leaders and politicians.

Finally, some scientists themselves have been interested in how work and leisure affect thinking and inspiration. One example of such scientists is Henri Poincaré, a French mathematician whose social position and achievements place him on a par with Darwin. His 30 books and 500 papers cover areas such as number theory, topology, astronomy and celestial mechanics, theoretical and practical physics, and philosophy. The American mathematician Eric Temple Bell described him as "the last universalist". He participated in the standardization of time zones, in the construction railways in the north of France (he was a mining engineer by training), served as the chief inspector in the technological building and was a professor at the Sorbonne.

Poincare was not just famous among his colleagues. In 1895, along with the writer Emile Zola, the sculptors Auguste Rodin and Jules Dalou, and the composer Camille Saint-Saens, French psychologist Edouard Toulouse studied him as part of his work on the psychology of genius. Toulouse noted that Poincare worked on a very even schedule. He spent the most difficult reflections from 10:00 to 12:00, and then from 17:00 to 19:00. The greatest mathematical genius of the 19th century spent no more time working than was necessary to understand the problem - about 4 hours a day.

We observe the same pattern in other mathematicians. Godfrey Harold Hardy, one of Britain's leading mathematicians in the first half of the 20th century, started the day with a leisurely breakfast and reading the results of cricket matches, then plunged into mathematics from 9 to 13. After dinner he went for a walk and played tennis. “Four hours of creative work a day is the maximum for a mathematician,” he told his friend and colleague, Oxford professor K. P. Snow. A longtime colleague of Hardy's, John Edensor Littlewood, believed that the concentration required for serious work meant that a mathematician could work "four, maximum five hours a day, with breaks every hour (for example, for a walk)". Littlewood was known for always taking Sunday offs, stating that this ensured he had new ideas when he returned to work on Monday.

Observation of the scheme of work of scientists, carried out in the early 1950s, showed approximately the same results. Illinois Institute of Technology professors Raymond Van Zelst and Willard Ker observed their colleagues, recording their work habits and schedules, and then plotted the number of hours spent in the office against the number of articles published. You might think that such a graph looks like a straight line showing what more hours the scientist works, the more articles he publishes. But it's not. The data looked like an M-shaped curve. It grew rapidly at first, and experienced a maximum between 10 and 20 hours per week. Then she went down. Scientists who worked 25 hours a week were no more productive than those who worked 5. Scientists who worked 35 hours a week were half as productive as those who worked 20 hours.

Then the curve started to grow again, but not so fast. Workaholic researchers who spent 50 hours a week in the lab were able to pull themselves out of the 35-hour valley. They were just as productive as those who spent five hours a week in the lab. Van Zelst and Kerr felt that this 50-hour hill was concentrated in "physical research requiring the constant use of bulky equipment," and that most of these 10-hour workdays were occupied by people servicing machines, sometimes taking measurements.

After that, the graph went down. Scientists who worked 60 hours a week or more were the least productive.

Van Zelst and Kerr also asked colleagues “how many hours on a typical workday are devoted to homework that contributes to the effective performance of your job,” and plotted the responses. This time they saw not M, but one maximum in the region of 3 - 3.5 hours a day. Unfortunately, they didn't say anything about the total number of hours they worked at the office and at home. They only mentioned the possibility that the most productive researchers "do most of their creative work at home or elsewhere" rather than on campus. Assuming that the most productive scientists work equally at home and in the office, it turns out that they work from 25 to 38 hours a week. For a six-hour work week, this translates into an average of 4-6 hours a day.

Similar statistics of working 4-5 hours a day can be found in the lives of writers. The German writer and Nobel laureate Thomas Mann worked out his daily schedule by 1910, when he was 35, and published the famous novel The Buddenbrooks. Mann started his day at 9, was located in the office with strict rule for the household did not distract him, and at first he worked on stories. After dinner, "the daytime was for reading, handling mountains of correspondence, and walking," he said. After an hour's sleep in the afternoon and subsequent tea, he spent an hour or two working on small pieces and editing.

Anthony Trollope, the great English writer of the 19th century, also kept to a strict schedule. This is how he described his work schedule at Waltham House, where he lived from 1859 to 1871. At 5 o'clock in the morning a servant came to him with coffee. First he read everything he had done the previous day, then at 5:30 he wound up the clock on the table and began to write. He wrote 1,000 words an hour, averaging 40 pages a week, until 8 o'clock when it was time to go to his regular job. Working in this way, he published 47 novels before his death in 1882 at the age of 67, although he did not make it clear that he regarded his achievements as anything out of the ordinary. After all, his mother, who began for financial support family writing over the age of 50, has published more than 100 books. He wrote: "I think all those who lived as writers - working on a literary work every day - will agree with me that in three hours a day you can write everything that a person is capable of writing."

Trollope's precise schedule is comparable to that of his contemporary, Charles Dickens. After in his youth Dickens did not lie down until deep night, he settled on a schedule "as methodical or precise" as that of a "town clerk," according to his son Charlie. Dickens closed in his office from 9 to 14, with a break for lunch. Most of his stories were serialized in magazines, and Dickens was rarely more than a chapter or two ahead of the publication schedule and the illustrator. And yet, after working for five hours, Dickens ended there.

This discipline may seem to you the result of Victorian austerity, but many of the most prolific writers of the 20th century worked the same way. The Egyptian writer Naguib Mahfouz worked as a government official, and usually wrote fiction from 4 to 7 pm. Canadian writer Alice Munro, winner of the 2013 Nobel Prize in Literature, wrote from 8 am to 11 am. Australian novelist Peter Carey said of working every day: "I think three hours is enough." Such a schedule allowed him to write 13 novels, including two that won the Booker Prize. William Somerset Maugham worked "only four hours a day" until 1 pm - but "never less", he added. Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote every day for five hours. Ernest Hemingway started work at 6 am and finished no later than noon. In the absence of serious deadlines, Saul Bellow went to the office after breakfast, wrote until lunch, and then reviewed what he had done in the morning. Irish writer Edna O'Brien worked in the morning, "stopped at 1:00 or 2:00 pm, and spent the rest of the day in the care of the world." Stephen King describes a day in which he writes and reads for 5-6 hours as "tense".

Carl Anders Erickson, Ralf Kramp, and Clemens Tesch-Röhmer observed similar results when they studied how violin students studied at the Berlin Conservatory in the 1980s. Scientists were interested in what distinguishes outstanding students from the crowd of just good ones. After talking to students and their teachers, and looking at student work diaries, they found that there was something that stood out to the best students.

First, they didn't just practice more, but they did it consciously. In the words of Erickson, during mindful training, you are “engaging with full concentration in activities that improve your technique.” You are not just repeating scales or practicing movements. Mindful activities involve structure, concentration, clear goals, and feedback. They require paying attention to what you are doing and seeing how you can improve your performance. Students can engage in this way when they have a clear plan for greatness, defined by an understanding of what separates brilliant work and good, or winners from losers. Such activities, in which it is necessary to complete the task in the shortest time, with the highest score, or by solving the problem in the most elegant way, constitute conscious practice.

Secondly, you must have a goal for which you are ready to practice daily. Deliberate practice is not a very interesting activity, and the return does not come immediately. It involves getting to the pool before dawn, working on your swing or gait when you can hang out with friends, practicing finger work or breathing in a windowless room, spending hours perfecting details that almost no one will notice. There is no instant gratification in conscious practice, so you need to feel that this long-term work is paying off and that you are not just improving your career opportunities, but are building a professional personality. You don't just do it for a fat wad of money. You do it because it enhances your sense of yourself and the sense of who you want to be.

The idea of ​​deliberate practice and Erickson's measurements and other amounts of time that world-class performers spend on practice has attracted a lot of attention. This research is at the heart of Malcolm Gladwell's argument in Geniuses and Outsiders that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to achieve perfection, and that all great men from Bobby Fischer to Bill Gates to the Beatles have worked their 10,000 hours before until the world heard about them. For coaches, music teachers, and parents, this number promises a paved road to the NFL, Juilliard, or MIT: start with young years keep them busy, don't let them give up. In a culture that views stress and overwork as virtues, 10,000 is an impressive number.

But Erickson and others noted something else in their study, something that almost everyone did not pay attention to. “Deliberate practice requires effort that can be sustained for a limited number of hours a day.” If you practice too little, you will never reach world class. If you practice too much, you risk injury, burnout, or exhaustion. To be successful, students need to "avoid exhaustion" and "limit practice to a period of time after which they can fully recover daily and weekly."

How do the greatest students make use of their limited hours of practice? The rhythm of their classes is subject to a clear pattern. They work more hours a week, but not at the cost of longer daily sessions. They do more frequent and shorter sets, 80-90 minutes, with half-hour breaks.

If we add up such a schedule, we get 4 hours a day. About the same amount of time Darwin spent on his hard work, Hardy and Littlewood on mathematics, Dickens and King on writing books. Even the most ambitious students in best schools of the world, preparing to fight in a competitive field, are able to concentrate and give all the best for no more than 4 hours a day.

The upper limit, according to Erickson, is determined not "by available time, but by available mental and physical resources." Students did not just study for 4 hours and finish. lectures, auditions, homework and everything else occupied them all day. In an interview, they said that "the limit to the time of daily work was their ability to maintain concentration." Therefore, it takes ten years for 10,000 Gladwell hours. If you can only focus for 4 hours a day, you get 20 hours a week (excluding weekends), and 1,000 hours a year (with two weeks off).

The importance of deliberate practice is not only illustrated by the lives of musicians. Ray Bradbury took up writing seriously in 1932 and wrote 1,000 words a day. “For ten years I wrote at least one story a week,” he recalls, but they did not want to team up with each other. And finally, in 1942, he wrote The Lake. Years later, he still remembers that moment.

“Ten years of wrong work suddenly turned into the right idea, the right scene, the right characters, the right day, the right time to be creative. I wrote a story sitting outside on the lawn with my typewriter. By the end of the hour the story was over, my hair was on the back of my neck and I was in tears. I realized that I had written the first really good story in my entire life.”

Erickson and colleagues also observed something else that separates great students from just good ones, except more class hours. This point has since been almost completely ignored. This is how they rested.

Top performers slept an hour more on average than average performers. They didn't get up later, they slept during the day. Of course, it was different for different people, but the best students they usually practiced the hardest and longest in the morning, slept in the afternoon, and then practiced again in the afternoon.

The researchers also asked students to note the amount of time spent on practice, classes, and everything else, and keep a diary for a week. By comparing the results of the interviews with the diaries, they discovered an interesting anomaly.

It's just that good violinists underestimated the number of hours they spent in a state of relaxation. They believed that they were resting 15 hours a week, when in fact they were resting almost twice as much. The best violinists, on the other hand, could quite accurately estimate the time they spent on rest, about 25 hours. Top performers put more effort into organizing their time, thinking about how they would spend their time and evaluating what they had already done.

In other words, the best students practiced the habits of deliberate practice—concentration, the ability to evaluate their own performance, a sense of the value of their time and the need to spend it wisely. They discovered great value conscious rest. They learned early on its importance, that the best creative work goes best when our breaks allow the subconscious mind to shut down, and that we can learn to rest better. At the conservatory, conscious rest is a partner of conscious practice. And also in the studio, in the laboratory and in the publishing house. As Dickens, Poincaré and Darwin discovered, everything matters. Both of these activities are halves of a whole creative life.

And, despite all the attention devoted to the study of the students of the Berlin Conservatory, its part related to sleep, attention to rest, the application of conscious growth as a necessary part of conscious practice, is not mentioned anywhere. Malcolm Gladwell's "Geniuses and Outsiders" focuses on the number of hours spent in practice, and says nothing about the fact that successful students also slept an hour more, that they slept during the day and took breaks.

This is not to say that Gladwell misread the study. He just missed part of it. And he is not alone. Everyone skips the discussion of sleep and rest and concentrates on 10,000 hours.

This blind spot is shared by scientists, humanists, and almost all of us: the tendency to focus on work, on assumptions that the path to improvement consists of tricks, eccentric habits, or Adderall / LSD. World-class performer researchers only focus on what people do in the gym, on the track, or in the practice room. Everyone focuses on the most obvious and measurable forms of work, trying to make them more efficient and productive. But no one asks if there are other ways to improve efficiency and life.

That's how we came to believe that world-class performance is achieved with 10,000 hours of practice. But it's not. It is achieved with 10,000 hours of mindful practice, 12,500 hours of mindful rest, and 30,000 hours of sleep.

The second part can be a conclusion, i.e. not a report of facts or a situation as a consequence of previous phenomena, but a conclusion general. However, the union can only be attached to a conclusion of a certain nature, which is an inference about a consequence, a result, and not an inference about a cause. Relationships between proposals are specified introductory word hence consequently there is no special union that joins the conclusion.

The second part can also be a presentation of the result, i.e. a consequence presented to its final, final, “resultative” side. With an increase in food excitability, a sharply excited subcortex strongly charges the cortex, increases cell lability, and strong stimuli become supermaximal under these conditions, causing inhibition.(Pavlov, "To Physiology and Pathology").

Meanwhile, this writer(Alexandr Duma) no doubt endowed by nature with a very great talent, but this talent remained alien to the aspirations of the age, – and the result was the insignificance of his works(Chernyshevsky, "Essays on the Gogol period").

As you can see, sentences connected by the union and, by the nature of their internal semantic relationships, can in no way be considered either homogeneous or independent, much less “reversible”. It is impossible not to take into account their internal semantic connection, since it lies at the basis of their connection, and it finds expression both in the grammatical forms of sentences and in their lexical composition.

3) Another type of semantic dependence between connected sentences is also widespread in the scientific and business language - a dependence that can be conditionally called "composing-relative" or "relative-defining". The nature of the semantic relationships between the composed sentences is such that the second of them contains some kind of statement either about the entire content of the first as a whole or about some of its members.

In the first case, the content of the previous message is, as it were, included in the second and is indicated in the second sentence by the pronoun "this", which plays the role of a subject or object. Without the first utterance, the second is empty, since its subject of speech, whether it be subject or object, remains undisclosed. However, the first message is not complete without the second one, since the task of the whole combination of sentences as a whole is to communicate something about the content of the first sentence.

Pronoun this is usually stands at the beginning of the second part, after the union, and is a substitute for the subject of the statement, even when it acts as a secondary member of the sentence - the addition. The real subject is the first part of the combination of sentences, in relation to which the second is its predicate. I give examples:

As you know, the most brilliant biologist of our century, Darwin, was distinguished, almost all his life, by poor health, and this did not prevent him from being the first in terms of the quality and intensity of mental labor.(Mechnikov, "Forty years...").

The bourgeoisie rejected the project of the Union of Soviets on general disarmament, and onethis enough to say: the capitalists – socially dangerous people, she is preparing a new worldwide slaughter(M. Gorky, “Who are you with, masters of culture?”)

The sentences under consideration can be compared with relative sentences with the allied word "what", which can be replaced without a significant change in the nature of syntactic relations. Indeed, replacing in the above examples the second parts of the combinations containing the pronoun this is, relative clauses with that: that did not prevent him from being; which is enough we will see that the nature of their relationship has remained basically the same. As before, the content of the first sentence reveals the content of the pronoun, but no longer the pronoun this is, a relative what of the second sentence, and is still the subject of this second sentence. Although formally the second part of the combination of sentences is a subordinate clause, since it is framed by a union word, however, it is this subordinate clause that is served by the sentences of the first part and is revealed by them. Thus, the relations and the order of the sentences characteristic of the composition are also preserved; only the form of connection and the nature of syntactic dependence expressed by it change - the result is an essay in the form of subordination.

When transforming a coordinative-relative or relative construction into a self-subordinating one, the syntactic relations change dramatically. Sentences with a demonstrative pronoun this is or with the relative that replaced it what(station and as a result of the replacement by “subordinate clauses”), which required other sentences to disclose their content, are formally made the main ones. The similarity of their fate indicates that sentences with a relative "what" are close in the nature of their syntactic functions to composing sentences with "this" and that they really represent a composition in the form of subordination.

If the statements contained in the second part do not refer to the entire content of the sentences of the first part, but to some of their members, then in the second part we have either the pronoun this in combination with a defined word borrowed from the previous sentence, or instead of such a combination, a personal pronoun replacing it. I give examples: This association had Prince Majak,and this all the other princes obeyed the prince(Grekov, "The Struggle of Russia for Independence").

The performance felt certain remnants of Okhlopkov's past anti-realist views, and they reduced the performance.(Fadeev, Literaturnaya Gazeta, 22/XII 1948).

When converting composed sentences with demonstrative or personal pronouns into subordinate clauses with a relative pronoun “which”, we get a sharper change in the nature of syntactic relations than when converting sentences with “this” into sentences with a relative “what”: the second part will almost lose the character of an independent statement, turning into a "subordinate definitive", and in a greater or lesser degree, depending on its real content, will receive the function of a simple definition.

Form of clauses with which the actually combines two types of syntactic relations: purely attributive, and thus subordinating, in those cases when the content of the clause really characterizes, defines the subject, and relative, when the clause contains some message about the defined subject, which is not its characteristic, but only related to it. In the latter case, we have a relation close to composition in the form of subordination. For example: A field aheadwhich the forest strip darkens.

The functions of connecting sentences in the language of fiction are much wider, more complex and diverse.

The main grammatical relations expressed by the combination of sentences remain, of course, the same as in the scientific and business language, but here they are enriched with additional expressive distillations and are themselves intricately intertwined.

Union and is widely represented in the language of fiction as an exponent of purely connecting relations, relations between homogeneous messages, i.e. in its function, in which it almost does not appear in the language of scientific and business.

The widespread use of the union in its purely connecting meaning in the language of fiction is explained by its genre features: the presence of descriptions of various kinds, characteristics, images of pictures of nature, etc.

The very real content, the target setting of poetic speech and the techniques of artistic representation caused by it contribute to the formation of complex syntactic wholes of a descriptive nature, consisting of homogeneous statements or including them in their composition.

These homogeneous utterances are characterized by the parallelism of the internal structure, to some extent expressed in the parallelism of their external syntactic construction.

Union and, which connects such statements, homogeneous by virtue of their identical relation to the whole, of which they are constituent elements, acts in a purely connecting sense, expressing in such cases the “pure idea of ​​connection”.

However, even with the general homogeneity of statements on the basis of their identical relationship to the common whole, it is still impossible to liken them to homogeneous members of a sentence and talk about the complete reversibility of relations and the possibility of rearranging sentences. There is almost never such a reversibility between sentences. Being homogeneous syntactic elements in relation to the whole, sentences are constantly still connected with each other in the order of a kind of stepped "relative" connection. Thus, the second message is usually associated with some members of the first and thus depends on the first in that either the words common to both sentences are replaced by pronouns, or in the second they are not named in any way and are mentally replaced by their names from the first message. Thus, the order of sentences, their internal relationships, can almost never be changed without violating the meaning and structure of the whole.

If the predicates of combined sentences are verbal, then they are usually expressed in forms of the same form, tense and mood, denoting action-states as would be located in the same plane, simultaneous or timeless, as permanent signs and properties. Union and or connects two sentences or acts as a "closing" before the last of the group (most often three) connected sentences.

I give examples:

I took a look at her(Zinaida): her eyes shone softly, and her face smiled as if through a mist(Turgenev, "First Love").

Had a strange influence on me, father, and our relationship was strange(Turgenev, "First Love").

The swimmer was brave, who decided on such a night to set off across the strait at a distance of twenty miles, and there must be an important reason that prompted him to do so.(Lermontov, "Taman").

her heart(Kitty) it was beating hard, and thoughts could not stop at anything

Spring - she does not know about you,

About you, about grief and about evil,

Her gaze shines with immortality,

And not a wrinkle on the forehead

(Tyutchev, "Spring").

The forms of time can be different, but used in a given context and have almost the same meaning. So, the past perfect, used and perfective meaning 9, is combined with the past imperfect as homogeneous with it in time, denoting a continuing action - a state as a result of a completed action. For example:

The dawn has long gone out, and its last trace was barely white in the sky.(Turgenev, "Singers").

The purely connective composition of sentences is especially widely used when describing nature in this relatively new literary genre, a kind of "landscape painting". The composition of sentences, preserving its self-sufficient significance for each message, without subordinating it to another, thereby allows you to draw more clearly, “depict” picture after picture. But here, too, the sequence of sentences that draw pictures of nature is not indifferent and arbitrary, but is determined either by the real arrangement of objects in space and, accordingly, the order of their perception and description, or by the poetic intention of the author. Both of these, reflected in the structure of sentences, prevent their rearrangement.

Dark, mysterious abysses loomed right and left, and the mists, swirling and wriggling like snakes, slithered there along the wrinkles of neighboring rocks.(Lermontov, "Bela").

Sentences, largely representing "single-term statements" - in the understanding of this term Acad. Shcherba 10 , - are undivided messages about an object with all its properties, drawing this object or image and a number of others that make up the overall picture. Hence the frequent inversion of the subject and the predicate: in the first place are circumstantial words that describe the background, then the undivided image of the object in its action, state, which is expressed by the following first of the predicate, then the subject.

Below, the Donets shone and reflected the sun in itself, at the top the chalky rocky shore was white and the young green of oaks and pines was brightly green on it.(Chekhov, "Tumbleweed").

Ahead, against the background of the night, crimson columns of fires rose along the entire horizon, and somewhere above, in the black sky, crimson reflections danced, reflected in it.(Simonov, Days and Nights).

Hazy noon breathes lazily,

Lazily rolling river -

And in the fiery and pure firmament

Clouds drift lazily.

(Tyutchev, Noon.)

Especially great in the language of fiction is the role of the connecting composition of sentences by the union and to express temporal relationships.

Each action or each stage in the development of the action is presented in the essay by a sentence that has not lost the meaning of a separate message.

The combination of such statements either depicts the phenomenon at a certain moment of its development, or depicts the stages of the development of the process in their natural sequence and thereby, as it were, reproduces individual moments of the development of the action before the eyes of the reader or listener. This achieves greater figurativeness, almost visibility in the description of the action, which meets the objectives of artistic narration.

In the expression of temporal relations - the simultaneity or sequence of events referred to in the connected sentences, the main role is played by their general meaning, their real content, which is reflected in the ratio of time and types of their predicates and in the lexical meaning of these predicates; for expressing the sequence of events, the order of sentences plays the most important role. Union and at the same time, it does not in itself express either the meaning of simultaneity or the meaning of succession; it indicates only the presence of a semantic connection between the connected sentences, the nature of the connection is determined by the meaning, the content of the combined sentences and, most importantly, the meaning arising from it, the meaning of their combination. Union and only, as it were, connects the meaning of statements, and from this connection the meaning of their combination is born.

At the same time, neither the simultaneity nor the sequence of phenomena in themselves can be the basis for combining reports about these phenomena. Such a basis should be the semantic connection of phenomena occurring simultaneously or sequentially.

When phenomena are simultaneous, the basis for their association may be their common relation to a certain whole, the elements of which they constitute, which takes place, for example, in the description. In this case, we have a complex syntactic whole, consisting of homogeneous statements and similar in structure to the syntactic whole of a descriptive nature just considered.

The predicates of such sentences are usually expressed in the same forms of tense, mood and aspect, and the aspect is predominantly imperfect. I give examples:

Pigeons cooed somewhere, and bees buzzed, flying low over the sparse grass.(Turgenev, "First Love").

The breeze trembled uneasily in the dark trees, and somewhere far beyond the sky, as if to itself, the thunder grumbled angrily and muffledly.(ibid.).

The flame in the oven still trembles, the baker's shovel scrapes on the brick, the water in the cauldron purrs, and the reflection of the fire on the wall still trembles, silently laughing.(M. Gorky, "Twenty-six and one").

The basis for combining messages about simultaneous phenomena can also be the nature of their course, their compatibility, related to a common person, belonging to a common process.

The pen itself raises the hand,

And the heart boils with song gift.

(Mayakovsky, “Strictly prohibited.”)

In this case, the actions of the two sentences connected by the union and simultaneously proceeding may not be completely equal in meaning. The action of the second sentence can complement, describe and, as it were, accompany the action of the first sentence.

For example: Kartashev hurriedly, convulsively paid off with the driver, and whirlwinds of thoughts rushed through his head.(Garin N., "Students").

He(Kartashev) he spoke, and in his memory everything that was on the other page, and on the third, in which particular corner, and then everything to the end(ibid.).

She is(mademoiselle Linon) walked through the halland bubbles and her face beamed(L. Tolstoy, Anna Karenina).

I know how you will do everything, answered Dolly: you tell Matvey to do something that cannot be done, and you yourself will leave, and he will mix everything up, and the usual mocking smile wrinkled the ends of Dolly’s lips when she said this(ibid.).

He(Emerald) shaking on the go with his fat, broad chest, already darkened with sweat, and damp groins, threw back his front legs, and at every step his spleen throbbed noisily(Kuprin, "Emerald").

Hopes are blooming in autumn cold,

My horse wanders, like a quiet fate,

And catches the edge of the waving clothes

His slightly wet brown lip.

(Yesenin, "Dove".)

The mermaid floated on the blue river,

Illuminated by the full moon;

And she tried to splash to the moon

Silvery foam waves.

(Lermontov, "Mermaid")

The predicate of the second sentence may not be a new, independent action, but only another side of the manifestation, another aspect of the action of the first sentence, and thus can serve as its characteristic, develop and supplement it.

Dear May boy, she said(Zinaida), lean over meand her voice sounded alarmed tenderness(Turgenev, "First Love").

Relations of simultaneity can also be expressed by a combination of sentences with perfect predicates, if the actions they depict are such that the action expressed by the predicate of the second sentence can be fully manifested only to the extent that the first is completed. This occurs when the actions proceed in such a way that their results almost coincide, for example: In itIn an instant another door of the living room was quickly flung open,and a girl appeared on the threshold, whom I saw the day before, in the garden(Turgenev, "First Love"), - or when the second action either accompanies the first, or is only one of the sides of its manifestation. For example:

The sun looked again

Frowningly into the fields,

And drowned in radiance

All the troubled land

(Tyutchev, "Reluctantly and timidly...")

With incomplete semantic homogeneity, equality of messages, the order of sentences is strictly defined and there is no reversibility of relations.

Between the relations of simultaneity and succession in time, it is often impossible to draw a sharp boundary (just as it does not exist in the real perception of phenomena that follow one after another with a certain degree of speed).

A quick change of actions, turning into their coincidence, i.e. at the same time, finds expression in the combination of sentences with perfect predicates. At the same time, since the perfect form of the verb denotes a certain moment of action, devoid of duration 11, their coincidence is drawn as their instantaneous following one after another. The meaning of simultaneity can be found in this lexical expression in adverbs "immediately", etc.

Lightning flashed to the rightand , as if reflected in a mirror, she immediately flashed in the distance(Chekhov, "Steppe").

With difficulty straightening his legs and pouring snow from them, he(Nikita) rose,and immediately an agonizing cold permeated his whole body

A red-bearded yellow face peered into the dormer window above the stairs, convulsively contorted, disappeared, and immediately bloody spears of flame pierced the roof.(M. Gorky, "My Universities").

Particularly rich opportunities are the combination of sentences with an alliance and to express the temporal sequence of phenomena.

Since in the essay each of the sentences does not lose the meaning of a separate statement and since the predicates of the combined sentences also do not lose their modal and temporal independence, i.e. depict the action in the way that the speaker directly represents it - in its relation to a given reality and in relation to a given moment of speech, and not in relation to some other action - then the order of sentences, as if directly reflecting the phenomena of reality, also expresses the order the phenomena themselves. Since verbs, in addition, have a category of aspect that depicts the character, the way the action proceeds, then by combining predicates of different types, tense and mood, both the sequence of the action and the method and nature of their course can be depicted, i.e. the process of action can be depicted in all the diversity and richness of its manifestation.

The language of fiction makes extensive use of the opportunities provided by the composition of sentences to depict the very process of action. A significant part of the sentences with the union also serves in the language of literature, especially in its narrative genres, to express the relations of the temporal sequence.

It is possible to outline in the most general scheme possible combinations of the forms of time and aspect with their main functions in relation to the expression of the temporal sequence.

A combination of sentences with the same or different forms of perfective verbs.

The main function of this combination is to express a sequence of successive actions: We said goodbye againand the horses galloped(Pushkin, "Shot"), or the instantaneous following of one action after another until the coincidence of two moments of action, the simultaneity of their results (see examples above).

A combination of two sentences having: the first - forms of the imperfect form, the second - the forms of the perfect form of predicates. The main function is to depict how a shorter action appears on the foyer: The wind did not decreaseand it snowed(L. Tolstoy, "Master and Worker").

A combination of two sentences, in which in the first - the forms of the perfect form, in the second - the forms of the imperfect form of predicates.

With the aoristic meaning of perfective forms, we have an image of how, at the end of one short action, a long action arises or continues. The applause had long ceased, and now everyone was looking at him.(Kartasheva) (Garin N., "Students").

With the perfective meaning of the forms of the perfect form, we have an image of how, against the background of the persisting results of the actions of the previous predicates, long-term actions arise or continue; the forms of the perfect past and the forms of the present and past imperfective form can, combined, express the simultaneity of actions.

And meanwhile the dawn flares up, golden stripes are already stretching across the sky, vapors swirl in the ravines; larks sing loudly, the predawn wind blew, – and the crimson sun rises softly(Turgenev, "Forest and Steppe").

4. A combination of sentences with forms of an imperfect form.

Main functions: a) expression of simultaneity of phenomena (examples above); b) alternation expression, i.e. repeatability of actions in this sequence: Shells raised pillars of earth near the house, some of them hit the walls with a roar,and then the whole house trembled, as if it were rocked by a great wave(Simonov, "Days and nights"); c) the expression of the sequence - when using the present tense in the description of past phenomena - for the liveliness of the story (real historical): The forest is over, several Cossacks are leaving it for a clearing,and here my Karagez jumps right to them(Lermontov, "Bela").

The above scheme is the most general. Depending on the syntactic and grammatical meaning of the tense form in a given context, on the lexical meaning of the verb, on the general meaning of the sentence, combinations of sentences can express the most diverse shades of the temporal sequence with the forms of their predicates, can depict the course of the process in all the specific variety of its manifestation.

The temporal sequence can be expressed by a combination of sentences with non-verbal predicates or a combination of sentences with verb forms of predicates missing in the order of the poetic ellipse.

Jump, another, third,and finally the horse got out of the snowdrift and stopped(L. Tolstoy, "Master and Worker").

The sound of earth on the lid of the coffin, muffled sobs of the mother, and a new mound grew up in the Rovno cemetery under the wall of a modest wooden church(Korolenko, "The History of My Contemporary").

On horseback rushed to the rubble

Who did not have time to jump off the horse ...

Hooray! -and fell silent. – Out the daggers

In butts! - and the massacre began.

(Lermontov, “I am writing to you.”)

Comrades,

do not stop!

What have become?

In armored cars

and to the post office!

We are not afraid

effort draw,

Rushing forward

locomotive labor, –

And suddenly

hundred pounds message –

with Ilyich

Hit.

(Mayakovsky, Vladimir Ilyich Lenin.)

It is characteristic that Mayakovsky, who indicates the intonation-semantic division of the text with his stepped line, placed both indicators of a sudden transition to a new moment in the development of the action and one line, making one syntagma out of them.

Complex sentences connected by relations of temporal sequence are characterized by a closed construction of several non-union sentences and the last sentence, which contains the entire syntactic whole both in semantic and rhythmic-intonational terms, connected with the previous “closing” union and. Union and serves as an indicator of the transition to the last, final stage in the development of the action-process.

At the 12th hour, the voices began to subside, the rooster crowed, the full moon began to come out from behind the lindens, a bright, white fog rose, dew,and silence reigned over the village and over the house(L. Tolstoy, "War and Peace").

I was born at Shrewsbury on February 12, 1809. I heard from my father that, in his opinion, people with a strong memory usually have memories that go far back, to very early period their lives. This is not the case with me, for my earliest recollection refers only to the time when I was four years and a few months old: we then went on a sea voyage near Abergel, and I remember, albeit very dimly, some events and places associated with being there.

Before I started school, my sister Caroline taught me, but I doubt whether these classes were successful. I was told that I was far less intelligent in teaching than my younger sister Katherine, and I think that in many respects I was not an obedient boy.

By the time I started attending school for incoming students I have already developed a distinct taste for natural history and especially for collecting. I tried to figure out the names of plants and collected all sorts of items: shells, seals, franc coins and minerals.

Wikipedia.org Charles Darwin as a child

...At this early age, I seemed to be interested in the variability of plants! I told a little boy (I think it was Layton, who later became a famous lichenologist and botanist) that I could grow polyanthus and primroses of various colors by watering them with various colored liquids; it was, of course, a monstrous invention, I never even tried to do anything like that.

When I left school, I was neither a very good nor a bad student for my age; it seems that all my teachers and father considered me a very ordinary boy, intellectually, perhaps, even below the average level. I was deeply distressed when one day my father said to me: “You think of nothing but hunting, dogs and rat-catching; You will disgrace yourself and our entire family!”

At the end of my stay at school, I became a passionate lover of gun hunting ...... I remember well how I shot the first snipe - my excitement was so great, my hands trembled so much that I was hardly able to reload the gun. This passion continued for a long time, and I became an excellent shooter.

With some attention, I probably observed insects, for when at the age of ten (in 1819) I spent three weeks at the seaside at Plas Edwards in Wales, I was greatly interested and amazed to find some large black and red hemipteran insect, many butterflies (Zygaena) and what something Cicindela, which are not found in Shropshire. I was almost determined to collect all the insects that I could find dead, because, after consulting with my sister, I came to the conclusion that it was not good to kill insects just to make a collection of them. After reading White's Selborne, I began to take great pleasure in observing the habits of birds and even took notes on my observations. I remember that in my simplicity I was amazed at why every gentleman does not become an ornithologist.

Edinburgh

Since further schooling was useless to me, my father prudently decided to take me out a little earlier than usual, and sent (in October 1825) with my brother to the University of Edinburgh, where I stayed for two years of study.

... Soon after that I came - on the basis of various small facts - to the conviction that my father would leave me a fortune sufficient to lead a comfortable life, although I never even imagined that I would be such a rich man as I have become now; this confidence, however, was sufficient to extinguish in me any serious zeal in the study of medicine.

Cambridge

After I had spent two years of study in Edinburgh, my father realized, or learned from my sisters, that the thought of becoming a doctor did not smile at me at all, and therefore he suggested that I become a priest. ... I asked to give me some time to think, because on the basis of the few information and thoughts that I had on this subject, I could not without hesitation declare that I believe in all the dogmas of the Anglican Church; however, in other respects, I liked the idea of ​​becoming a country priest. ... It did not strike me at all how illogical it is to say that I believe in something that I cannot understand and that in fact [generally] cannot be understood.

The three years I spent at Cambridge were as completely wasted as far as academic pursuits were the years spent in Edinburgh and at school. I tried to study mathematics and even went to Barmouth in the summer of 1828 with a private teacher (a very stupid man), but my studies were extremely sluggish. They disgusted me, mainly because I was unable to see any meaning in the first foundations of algebra. This lack of patience in me was very foolish, and afterwards I deeply regretted that I had not advanced at least so much as to be able to understand at least a little about the great guiding principles of mathematics, for people who have mastered it seem to me endowed with some additional tool of reason.

wikipedia.org Charles Darwin while studying at Cambridge

Public lectures on various branches of knowledge were read at the university, attending which was completely voluntary, but I was already so fed up with lectures in Edinburgh that I did not even go to Sedgwick's eloquent and interesting lectures. If I had visited them, I would probably have become a geologist sooner than actually happened. I attended, however, Henslo's lectures on botany, and I liked them very much, as they were distinguished by exceptional clarity of presentation and excellent demonstrations; but I didn't study botany. Henslow used to take field excursions with his students, including older members of the university, on foot, to distant places in carriages, and down the river by longboat, and during these excursions he lectured on rarer plants and animals, which was able to observe. These tours were amazing.

My passion for shooting and hunting- and if this could not be done, then to horseback rides in the neighborhood - she brought me into a circle of sports enthusiasts, among whom there were several young people of not very high morals. In the evenings, we often dined together, although, it must be said, these dinners were often attended by more efficient people; from time to time we had a decent drink, and then merrily sang and played cards. I know that I should be ashamed of the days and evenings wasted In a similar way, but some of my friends were such nice people, and our mood was so cheerful that I can't help but think of those times with a feeling of great pleasure.

But I am pleased to remember that I had many other friends, of a completely different kind. I was in great friendship with Whitley, who later became a laureate University of Cambridge in mathematics, we constantly took long walks with him. He instilled in me a taste for paintings and good engravings, and I purchased several copies. ... Many paintings in the National Gallery in London gave me real pleasure, and one painting by Sebastian del Piombo aroused in me a feeling of majesty.

I was also in a musical circle, I think it's thanks to my warm friend Herbert, who graduated with the highest honors in mathematics. Associating with these people and listening to them play, I acquired a distinct taste for music and began to arrange my walks quite often so as to listen to carols in the church of King's College on weekdays. I experienced such intense pleasure at the same time that at times a shiver ran down my spine.

...Nothing gave me such pleasure as collecting beetles. It was just a passion for collecting, since I did not dissect them, rarely compared their external features with published descriptions, and set their names at random. I will give proof of my zeal in this matter. One day, while ripping off a piece of old bark from a tree, I saw two rare beetles and grabbed one of them with each hand, but then I saw a third, some new kind, which I could not possibly miss, and I put that beetle, which he held in his right hand, in his mouth. Alas! He released some extremely caustic liquid, which so burned my tongue that I had to spit out the beetle, and I lost it, as well as the third.

My collection has been very successful. moreover, I invented two new methods [of collecting beetles]: I hired a worker, whom I instructed to scrape moss from old trees during the winter and put it in a large bag, and also to collect garbage from the bottom of the barges, which bring reeds from the swamps; in this way I acquired some very rare species. Never was a poet more delighted at the sight of his first printed poem than I was when I saw in Stevens' Illustrations of British Insects the magic words: "Caught by C. Darwin, Esq."

Journey on the Beagle from December 27, 1831 to October 2, 1836

Returning home from my short geologic tour of North Wales, I found a letter from Henslow informing me that Captain Fitz Roy was prepared to give up part of his own cabin to some young man who would willingly and without recompense go with him on the voyage. on the Beagle as a naturalist.

When Fitz Roy and I became close afterwards, he told me that I was in serious danger of being rejected because of the shape of my nose! An ardent follower of Lavater, he was convinced that he could judge the character of a person by the features of his face, and doubted that a person with a nose like mine could have the energy and determination sufficient to make a trip. I think, however, that later he was fully convinced that my nose had misled him.

wikipedia.org Journey on the Beagle

The journey on the Beagle was the most significant event of my life, determined my entire future life path. ... I have always believed that it is to the journey that I owe the first true discipline, that is, education, of my mind; I was forced to work closely with several branches of natural history, and as a result my powers of observation improved, although they had already been well developed up to that time.

Of particular importance was the geological study of all the regions I visited... Another occupation of mine was the collection of animals of all classes, a brief description of them, and a rough dissection of many marine animals; however, owing to my inability to draw and my lack of sufficient knowledge of anatomy, a large proportion of the handwritten notes I took during the trip turned out to be almost useless.

Looking back at the past, I now notice that gradually the love of science prevailed in me over all other inclinations. For the first two years, the old passion for hunting remained in me almost in all its strength ... but little by little I began to hand over the gun to my servant more and more often and, finally, I gave it to him altogether, since hunting interfered with my work ... Primal Instincts savage gradually gave way in me to the acquired tastes of civilized man. The fact that my mind developed under the influence of my studies during the trip seems to me probable on the basis of one remark made by my father ... ... when he first saw me after the trip, he turned to my sisters and exclaimed: “Why, he has completely changed the shape of the head!”

wikipedia.org Beagle Route

Brighter than anything else, the magnificence of tropical vegetation still appears before my mind's eye. But even that feeling of majesty that I experienced at the sight of the great deserts of Patagonia and the forest-clad mountains of Tierra del Fuego left an indelible impression in my memory. The sight of a naked savage in the setting of his native land is a sight that will never be forgotten.

... I worked during the journey with the greatest exertion of my strength simply because the process of investigation gave me pleasure, and also because I passionately desired to add a few new facts to the great number of them that natural science possesses. But in addition, I had an ambitious desire to take a worthy place among the people of science - I do not presume to judge whether I was more or less ambitious than most of my fellow scientists.

Religious views

During these two years I had to think a lot about religion. During the voyage on the Beagle I was quite orthodox; I recall how some officers (although they themselves were orthodox people) laughed heartily at me when, on some issue of morality, I referred to the Bible as an indisputable authority ... However ... I gradually came to realize that Old Testament with his obviously false history of the world, with his Tower of Babel, the rainbow as a sign of the covenant, etc., etc., and with his attribution to God of the feelings of a vengeful tyrant, no more trustworthy than the sacred books of the Hindus or the beliefs of some savage .

Reflecting further on the fact that it would take the clearest evidence to make any normal person believe in the miracles that confirm Christianity; that the more we know hard laws nature, the more incredible miracles become for us; that in those [remote] times people were ignorant and gullible to a degree that is almost incomprehensible to us... ...I gradually stopped believing in Christianity as a divine revelation.

wikipedia.org Annie's daughter, whose death in 1851 turned Darwin away from the idea of ​​an all-good God.

But I was by no means inclined to give up my faith...... I returned again and again to fantastic dreams of discovering in Pompeii or somewhere else old correspondence between some prominent Romans or manuscripts that would most amazingly confirm everything that is said in the Gospels. But even with the full freedom that I gave my imagination, it became more and more difficult for me to come up with such a proof that would be able to convince me. So little by little disbelief crept into my soul, and in the end I became completely unbelieving. ... The uncomplicated text [of the Gospel] shows, apparently, that people who do not believe - and one would have to include my father, my brother, and almost all of my best friends - will suffer eternal punishment. Disgusting teaching!

Everything in nature is the result of fixed laws.... To choose the type of action that is most beneficial for the species, the animal can be motivated by both suffering, such as pain, hunger, thirst and fear, and pleasure, such as food and drink, as well as the process of reproduction of the species, etc., or a combination both, such as searching for food. But pain or any other suffering, if it lasts for a long time, causes depression and lowers the capacity for activity, although they serve well to induce the living being to guard against some great or sudden evil. On the other hand, pleasurable sensations can last for a long time without exerting any overwhelming effect; on the contrary, they cause increased activity of the whole system. Thus it happened that most or all sentient beings developed in this way natural selection that pleasant sensations serve as their habitual guides.

A being so powerful and so full of knowledge as a god who could create the universe appears to our limited mind as omnipotent and omniscient, and the assumption that the benevolence of a god is not unlimited repels our consciousness, for what advantage could the suffering of millions of lower animals during an almost infinite time?

wikipedia.org

... The sun and all the planets will eventually become too cold for life, unless some large body collides with the sun and communicates to it in this way new life. If one believes, as I believe, that in the distant future man will become a much more perfect being than he is at present, then the thought that he and all other sentient beings are doomed to utter annihilation after such a long slow progress becomes unbearable. To those who unconditionally admit the immortality of the human soul, the destruction of our world will not seem so terrible.

Another source of belief in the existence of God, a source connected not with the senses, but with the mind, makes a much stronger impression on me. It lies in the extreme difficulty or even impossibility of imagining this vast and wonderful Universe, including here man with his ability to look far into the past and future, as a result of blind chance or necessity. Thinking in this way, I feel compelled to turn to the First Cause, which has an intellect somewhat analogous to that of man...

I have not committed any serious sin and therefore do not feel any remorse, but I very, very often regretted that I did no more immediate good to my fellow men. The only but insufficient excuse for me is the fact that I was ill a lot, as well as my mental constitution, which makes it extremely difficult for me to move from one subject or occupation to another.

There is nothing more remarkable than the spread of religious unbelief, or rationalism, during the second half of my life. Before my pre-wedding engagement, my father advised me to carefully hide my doubts [in religion], for, he said, he had seen what exceptional misfortune this kind of frankness brought to married persons.

Life in London

From my return to England, October 2, 1886, to my marriage, January 29, 1839. Having traveled back and forth several times between Shrewsbury, Mayor, Cambridge and London, I settled on December 13 in Cambridge, where all my collections were kept under the supervision of Henslow. Here I lived for three months and, with the help of Professor Miller, determined my minerals and rocks.

wikipedia.org Scientist's wife Emma Darwin

... She is my greatest happiness, and I can say that in all my life I have never heard from her a single word of which I could say that I would rather not have uttered it at all. Her sympathetic kindness to me was always unfailing, and she endured my eternal complaints of ailments and inconveniences with the greatest patience. I am sure that she never missed an opportunity to do a good deed for one of those who surrounded her. I am amazed at the exceptional happiness that she, a person who, in all her moral qualities, is immeasurably superior to me, agreed to become my wife. She was my wise adviser and bright comforter all my life, which without her would have been for a very long period of time miserable and unhappy due to illness. She won the love and admiration of all who were close to her.

With regard to my family, I was really extremely happy, and I must tell you, my children, that none of you has ever given me any trouble, except for your illnesses. I believe that there are few fathers who have five sons and who can make such a statement with complete truthfulness. When you were very young, I enjoyed playing with you, and I think with anguish that those days will never return.

Life in Down

There are probably few who have led such a solitary life as we have. Except for short trips to visit relatives, occasional trips to the seaside or somewhere else, we hardly went anywhere. During the first period of our stay [at Down] we were occasionally in society and received a few friends at home; however, my health always suffered from any excitement: I would have fits of violent trembling and vomiting. ...While I was young and healthy, I was able to establish very warm relations with people, but in later years, although I still have very friendly feelings towards many people, I have lost the ability to deeply attach to anyone and even to my good and dear friends Hooker and Huxley I am no longer attached as deeply as in former years. As far as I can judge, this unfortunate loss of feeling [attachment] developed in me gradually, due to the fact that I feared fatigue, and then also due to [actually occurring] exhaustion ...

My main pleasure and only occupation throughout my life was scientific work, and the excitation it causes makes me forget for a time, or completely removes my constant ill-being. ... In June 1842, for the first time, I decided to give myself satisfaction and sketched in pencil on 35 pages a very brief summary of my theory; during the summer of 1844 I expanded this summary into a 230-page essay, which I painstakingly rewrote and keep with me to this day. A book titled The Origin of Species was published in November 1859.

wikipedia.org "The Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favorable Races in the Struggle for Life"

There is no doubt that this book is main work of my life. From the first moment [of her appearance] she enjoyed an extremely great success. The first small edition of 1250 copies sold out on the day of publication, and shortly after [it was sold out] the second edition of 3000 copies. So far (1876) sixteen thousand copies have been sold in England, and, considering how difficult this book is to read, it must be admitted that this is a large number. It has been translated into almost all European languages, even into Spanish, Czech, Polish and Russian. According to Miss Baird, it has also been translated into Japanese and is widely studied in Japan. Even an essay about her appeared in Hebrew, proving that my theory is contained in the Old Testament!

... The greatest consolation for me were the words that I repeated hundreds of times to myself:“I have worked my hardest and tried my best, and no man can do more than that.” I remember how, while in the bay of Good Success in Tierra del Fuego, I thought (and I think I wrote home about it) that I could not use my life better than trying to make some contribution to natural science. This I have done to the best of my ability, and let the critics say what they please, in this they cannot dissuade me.

wikipedia.org Caricature of Darwin, 1871.

My work The Descent of Man was published in February 1871. As soon as I came to the conclusion, in 1837 or 1838, that species were the product of change, I could not avoid thinking that man must have come into being by virtue of the same law. ... I wrote The Descent of Man for three years, but this time, as usual, part of the time was lost due to illness, and part was spent on preparing new editions [of my books] and other works of a smaller volume.

... For many years now, I have not been able to force myself to read a single line of poetry; Recently I tried to read Shakespeare, but it seemed to me incredibly, disgustingly boring. I also almost lost my taste for painting and music. ... My mind has become some kind of machine that grinds large collections of facts into general laws, but I am unable to understand why this should lead to the atrophy of that part of my brain alone, on which higher [aesthetic] tastes depend. ... The loss of these tastes is tantamount to the loss of happiness and, perhaps, has a harmful effect on mental abilities, and more likely on moral qualities, as it weakens emotional side our nature.

I am not distinguished by either great speed of thought or wit.- qualities that are so remarkable for many intelligent people, for example Huxley. ... The ability to follow a long chain of purely abstract ideas is very limited in me, and therefore I would never have made progress in philosophy and mathematics. My memory is extensive, but not clear... ...I have never been able to remember any particular date or line of verse for more than a few days.

Finally, thanks to the fact that I did not have to earn my own bread, I had enough leisure. Even ill health, although it robbed me of several years of my life, [benefited me, because] saved me from secular society and from entertainment.

Thus my success as a man of science, whatever the extent of that success, has been the result of as far as I can tell, complex and varied mental qualities and conditions. The most important of these were a love of science, boundless patience with long deliberation on any subject, diligence in observation and collection of facts, and a fair amount of ingenuity and common sense. It is truly amazing that, with such mediocre abilities, I could have a fairly significant influence on the beliefs of men of science on some important issues.

The intensified search for truth in life, the desire to coordinate actions with the basic theoretical principles, is, as has long been noted, one of the most characteristic features of the Russian spirit. At the lower levels, it is expressed in a peculiar attitude towards religious teaching, especially in such a diverse and widespread sectarianism; in the higher stages, it manifests itself in the form philosophical teachings which are obviously practical. Although these teachings are usually brought to us from the West more or less ready, it is nevertheless impossible not to notice the peculiar attitude of the Russians towards them. thinking people, which is expressed mainly in the desire to put the theoretical principles into practice as fully and quickly as possible.

Observing Russian peasant life, you are struck by the important role played by the interpretation of St. scriptures. It is easy to be convinced of this by listening to the conversations of Great Russian peasants who have accidentally gathered somewhere idle, for example, on the deck of a steamer sailing along the Volga. Conversations on the most diverse topics soon turn into lively debates on questions of a religious nature, and a wealth of knowledge on this part, as well as a subtle dialectic, is revealed.

Whatever the conversation turns to among young students and in general in more educated circles, it quickly jumps from particular questions to the most general ones and is considered insipid and uninteresting if it does not touch on the basic principles of human actions and their integral implementation in life. The same is reflected in literature and science. The most outstanding works of fiction exhibit leading figures who develop their views on these topics. On the part of connoisseurs, the demand is loudly stated that in modern novel, in a popular article or at a public lecture, the author's view on the main questions was exposed: what to do and how to harmonize behavior with the principles of truth?

It is not surprising that with such a demand, the entire thinking Russian society reacted with particular interest to the narratives of gr. L. Tolstoy about the search for truth by the heroes of his brilliant novels and stories. This interest was even more intensified when it turned out that the author himself was hiding behind these heroes, and when the latter thoroughly and frankly revealed to the readers the history of his own attempts to solve one of the most difficult problems that appear to the human mind.

The impression and influence made by the sermons of c. L. Tolstoy, turned out to be all the stronger because in his teachings the applied side was especially put forward and it was directly said how behavior should be arranged in all the main cases of life. Seekers of truth not only read gr. Tolstoy, discussed and defended the provisions of his teachings, but also put the latter into practice, founding special hostels and brotherhoods. The teaching went so far in some cases that young scholars abandoned science, burned prepared dissertations and entered communities for a renewed life in the sphere of almost exclusive physical labor.

II

Despite the difficulty of the task - in view of the scattered, nervous nature of the presentation and frequent contradictions, c. L. Tolstoy, - let's try to find the fundamental essence of his views, the kind of key with which it would be possible to reveal this complex construction.

That's the only reason why I decided to talk about the teachings of Count. L. Tolstoy, that they are based on a purely rationalistic, natural-historical principle: a person is an animal machine, uniquely arranged and suitable for very specific actions. If the latter strictly correspond to the mechanism of this machine, then the result is happiness, and with it a feeling of contentment and satisfaction; if there is no such correspondence and the departure does not sufficiently correspond to the device of the mechanism, then misfortune is obtained, accompanied by painful sensations. This principle is erected on purely zoological soil and reinforced by gr. L. Tolstoy with examples from the animal world. “A bird,” he says, “is so arranged that it needs to fly, walk, peck, think, and when it does all this, then it is satisfied, happy - then it is a bird. In the same way, a person, when he walks, tosses , lifts, drags, works with fingers, eyes, ears, tongue, brain, then only he is satisfied, then only he is a man "(Works, ed. 1887, part XII, p. 442). Gr. L. Tolstoy repeats the same basics many times and directly states that “to fulfill the law of life is to do what is characteristic not only of man, but also of an animal” (p. 436), i.e., an animal in the sense of a complex mechanism. Even in one of the latest works their own - "Kreutzer Sonata" - where gr. Tolstoy departs from his former views in so many ways, he more than once measures the actions he analyzes with the same scale of "naturalness".

Gr. L. Tolstoy came to the principle formulated by him through prolonged mental labor and, once dwelling on it, assumed that he had discovered a new and, moreover, very clearly expressed law, as can be seen, by the way, from the following passage: “And when I clearly understood all this I began to laugh, I came to that extraordinary truth through a whole series of doubts, searches, a long train of thought, that if a person has eyes, then in order to look with them, and ears to hear, and legs to walk, and hands, and back to work. And that if a person does not use these members for what they are intended, then it will be worse for him "(XII, 436).

Having found this basic principle and established itself on it as an axiom, gr. It was not difficult for Tolstoy to deduce from it a number of guiding rules for practical life.

First of all, he became convinced of the natural-historical necessity of significant physical labor as one of the basic elements of happiness. What is said in the Bible "as the law of man" in "the sweat of your brow, take bread" found a clear confirmation in the principle defined by it.

The mere bringing to the forefront of physical labor as a natural-historically necessary guarantee of happiness significantly changes the views and actions of people from the so-called intelligent circle, one-sidedly carried away by mental labor. It immediately, and, moreover, to a large extent, reduces the division of labor between people and thereby eliminates one of the main causes of injustice and misfortune. When people follow Mr. Tolstoy, "then only the false division of labor that exists in our society will be destroyed, and that just division of labor will be established that does not violate human happiness" (XII, 441).

Everywhere, where only gr. Tolstoy touches upon the question of labour, he returns every time to the same basic principle and derives from it the same practical results.

In the question of the appointment and behavior of women, he follows the same path. From the law of natural history, according to which a woman is an animal mechanism adapted to the birth of children, it follows that all her activity should be directed towards this goal. "A woman," says Count Tolstoy, "by her structure is called, inevitably drawn to that service, which alone is excluded from the field of men's ministry" (XII, 467). This basic position, based on anatomical data, is repeated by him many times and developed into a number of further conclusions. “The ideal woman,” according to Count Tolstoy, “will be the one who, having mastered the highest worldview of the time in which she lives, gives herself to her feminine vocation, irresistibly invested in her, will give birth, feed and educate the largest number of children capable of working for people according to the world outlook she has acquired. In order to assimilate a higher world outlook, it seems to me that there is no need to attend courses, but you only need to read the gospel and not close your eyes, ears and, most importantly, your heart "(XII, 470).

Although when looking for a guiding rule in relations with people, gr. L. Tolstoy more followed direct feeling, nevertheless, here we see the desire to bring this rule under basic formula his rationalist ethics. Thus, he considers it beyond dispute, "that not only torturing or killing a man, but torturing a dog or killing a chicken and a calf is disgusting and painful to the nature of man" (What is my faith, p. 37).

It would seem that, having come to views based on natural historical data, gr. L. Tolstoy should have looked at exact science and its conclusions as the true foundation of the doctrine of human actions. Therefore, at first glance, his completely negative and, moreover, extremely passionate attitude towards modern positive knowledge may seem very inconsistent and strange. From the fact that in their attacks c. Tolstoy sometimes seems to shield "true science and true art", which are "just as necessary for people as food, and drink, and clothing, even more necessary" (XII, 408), one might perhaps think that his indignation is directed exclusively against guild science and guild art, which so often actually hinder the progress of these higher branches of human activity. But a close acquaintance with the polemics of Count Tolstoy convinces us that he is attacking the very real science which for so long and so stubbornly had to defend itself in the struggle against guild science. Thus, for example, he bursts into anger against the theory, now at last generally recognized, of the gradual origin of organic species by the accumulation and strengthening of minor differences (XII, 382) and contemptuously mocks the doctrine of the cell and protoplasm (XII, pp. 398, 399 and etc.), which received in modern science about organisms a leading role. Treating thus the most outstanding and most firmly established generalizations of modern biology, c. Tolstoy does not find enough caustic words to express his contempt for actual work, such as, for example, the study of worms or insects (XII, 399, 414, etc.). In his opinion, true science can be recognized as such only if it immediately raises and decides the question, "what is the purpose and good of all people"; and since for this there is no need (Count Tolstoy forgets that his own main principle of behavior is based precisely on comparison with the functions of animals) in the study of insects, worms, protoplasm, etc., he recognizes the study of these subjects as "idle and harmful fun" (XII, 411).

We will not give here more details of the attacks of gr. Tolstoy on science, since they all represent the development of the same basic proposition; we will have to meet the author's argument more than once. Let us just say in general that, feeling himself on the firm ground of the "law of life" established on a rationalistic basis, c. Tolstoy worked out for himself a code of conduct in detail, and noticing the discord of the latter with certain provisions of science and modern culture in general, took up arms and began to preach crusade against these latter.

III

Having determined, as far as possible, the basic character of the principle of practical philosophy, gr. Tolstoy and some of the conclusions drawn by him from him, we will try to take a closer look at this doctrine, while applying the method and techniques of exact natural science. In cases where the latter encounters a complex problem, it always tries to simplify its solution by tracing the historical course of the phenomenon under study.

Since the attempts to build the principles of human morality on a rationalistic foundation have arisen, they have been constantly trying to derive them from the properties of human nature. So it was in ancient Greece, where philosophers preached that "happiness lies in the fulfillment of all natural actions and states," and where the metriopathic doctrine of the conformity of moral life with human nature developed.

More than thirteen years ago I published (Vesti. Evropy, 1877, April) "Essay on views on human nature", in which the reader can find a summary of moral teachings based on the natural nature of man. In the same place, it was pointed out that the view so widespread among the Greeks and passed into modern times on the harmonious development of all natural human abilities as the goal of truly moral behavior. Along with the doctrine of the natural properties of man, as sources of moral duties, the theory of "natural law" arose. This connection has been recognized for a long time, as can be seen from the following passage, borrowed by Bockle from Hutchison: "Since, in essence, all our natural desires and aspirations, even of the lowest order, are given to us for the good, then it is right to satisfy them so much that they do not interfere with nobler pleasures and are sufficiently subordinate to them; all of them seem to be associated with the natural concept of law" (Bockl, II, note 28 to p. 372).

Writers of modern times and, by the way, naturalists, despite the accusation of their gr. Tolstoy in that they do not at all deal with the question of the purpose and good of man, they have repeatedly tried to solve it and, moreover, in the same spirit as the ancient philosophers. In my above-mentioned article, I, by the way, cited the views of the zealous Darwinist, naturalist Georg Seydlitz, who in 1875 put forward the following proposition: "Rational and moral life consists in the satisfaction of all the functions of the body in due degree and in mutual relation to each other." From this general principle to the basis developed by gr. L. Tolstoy, one step, and if it is impossible to draw a direct conclusion from it about such a distribution of physical and mental labor, which is proposed by Count. L. Tolstoy, then in any case it clearly follows from him the need for a more or less even exercise of these two types of functions. Although gr. Tolstoy, obviously, did not conform either with these views of the latest writers, or with the teachings of the Greek philosophers and rationalists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, reaching his decision in a more independent way, nevertheless, the connection of his foundations with these teachings cannot be doubted. This connection is even more proved by the fact that objections against the latter can be put forward with equal right against the views of Count. Tolstoy. First of all, it should be noted that all these foundations and theories touch the issue only from the surface and, moreover, suffer from too much uncertainty. Thus, for example, when discussing Seydlitz's position, the absence of signs of that "proper degree" in which the functions of the human body must be satisfied is striking. And as to what is “proper” to human nature, opinions can differ to such an extent that from this principle one can come to the most opposite conclusions. So it has always been. The Greek schools, agreeing that one must live in accordance with human nature, were of a completely opposite opinion about the naturalness of pleasure. The Epicureans considered the latter to be a natural good, that is, a condition consistent with nature and satisfying in itself the state of every being, while the Stoics taught just the opposite.

At the present time, positive knowledge has advanced so much that much more definiteness and clarity can and should be introduced into the question of "Life in accordance with nature". It can no longer be satisfied with that superficial fluttering of thought, which seemed sufficient before. And gr. Tolstoy, in his main argument, touches only lightly on the main issue. Wanting to establish the principle of moral behavior on rationalistic grounds, he says: "The bird is so arranged that it needs to fly, walk, peck, think, and when it does all this, then it is satisfied, happy, then it is a bird." This is true only at the first, most cursory glance. You don't have to be a zoologist to know that you can be a bird and not fly at all. These are ostriches, cassowaries, penguins. But, it will be said, these are extremes, since the wings of these exceptional birds are not sufficiently developed. Therefore, it does not hurt to recall the numerous representatives of chicken birds, which, despite the presence of sufficiently developed wings, prefer to use their legs and fly only in exceptional cases. The following example is especially instructive. The South American bighead duck, despite the presence of developed wings, uses them only to fly over the surface of the water. The proof that it has lost the ability to really fly is the fact that in its youth this breed of ducks flies as well as other representatives of ducks.

Not infrequently, the full use of the wings, while providing the animal with some transient "satisfaction," leads, however, to disastrous consequences for it, as a result of which such an animal cannot be "happy." Similar examples are found especially in insects. Scientists have been amazed by the fact that among the beetles of the oceanic islands, very many are devoid of wings, despite the fact that their mainland relatives are completely supplied with them. This fact is explained, according to Darwin's theory, by the assumption that insects flying near the ocean were often carried into the sea and died in it, and that therefore beetles that retained the ability to fly must have died out on oceanic islands, and survived mainly those that, according to the words Darwin, "either from the slightest lack of development of the wings, or from innate laziness, they were subjected to a lesser degree of danger of being brought into the sea" (Origin of Species, Russian translation, 1873, p. 108).

Suppose, for convenience, that the beetles of the oceanic islands could reason about their actions in the same way as people. If there were followers of the teachings of gr. Tolstoy, they should have decided that since they have wings and are therefore "so constituted that they need to fly," it is "unnatural" to refrain from air wanderings and to undertake them without any further reflection. The result would have been that most of these followers would have been swept into the sea, and the happier beetles would have been in opposition and decided that, in spite of their natural constitution, they should use their wings as little as possible. Walleston, who observed the mode of life of insects in Madeira, noted the fact that the winged beetles there mostly hide until the sun shines and the wind subsides, i.e., that they developed a special caution in using wings, thanks to which they could resist despite the proximity of the ocean.

All these are not randomly snatched examples in order to show the inconsistency of the zoological argumentation of Gr. Tolstoy, but only an illustration of the most general proposition that the animal organism is not something solid, this time forever, but, on the contrary, something very changeable and, moreover, changeable under the influence of habits, sometimes going even contrary to the anatomical device. Since the organism is changeable, then what is “proper” to it is also changeable.

Let's apply these findings to humans. According to gr. Tolstoy, just as a bird is happy only when it exercises all its organs, "in the same way a person; when he walks, turns, lifts, drags, works with his fingers, eyes, ears, tongue, brain, then only he is satisfied then only he is a man. This must be understood precisely in the sense of the doctrine of the harmonious function of all organs as solid foundations that constitute a permanent and inalienable property of human nature. Let us see what the science of man teaches. It turns out that a person, being the result of a very long and, moreover, one-sided genetic process, has a whole sum of organs that have already lost their significance, and not a few that, although they can perform their function, are apparently going to a complete decline. These organs are doubly interesting, since, on the one hand, they show the groundlessness of admiring a given organization and drawing from it the foundations of behavior, and on the other hand, they are irrefutable evidence of the origin of man from other, lower organisms.

In a child who has not yet learned to walk, the foot and toes are capable of much more varied movements than in an adult; flexion movements of the foot and grasping movements - with the toe - are easy for him. These movements are based on muscles that can be developed by exercise, as we see in those armless ones who learn to write and draw with the hand of the foot. With some "savages", whose feet are never constrained by shoes, the movements of the feet and toes are much freer. In general, the leg of an adult, becoming an organ for maintaining the body in an upright position and moving it, gradually loses the various movements of the foot and fingers, and some muscles are also lost (to a more or less complete extent).

From the point of view of the teachings of L. Tolstoy should also develop various movements of the foot, since they are an innate "property" of the human body and therefore completely "natural". Shoes, on the other hand, which fetter the foot, preventing the movement of its parts, are, therefore, an unnatural invention of culture that must be eliminated. (The famous boots, about which Count L. Tolstoy was so often spoken about as a shoemaker, must be unconditionally rejected, on the basis of his own teaching.)

The anatomical structure and development of the human leg clearly indicate that it developed from a limb similar to a hand, that is, that human ancestors could wrap their feet around various objects and move their toes in much the same way as many monkeys. These complex and varied movements were gradually lost, and the foot, becoming more and more simple, turned into an integral, inactive organ. Despite the inclinations of a more complex development of the foot, there is not the slightest need to develop it, a person exercises his foot, and even then not for the sake of satisfying the immediate need for action with an existing organ, but for the sake of striving to fill life with complexity. mechanical work(write, sew, draw).

Not only the feet and lower limbs in general, but the whole human organism is overflowing with organs which, although they can still function, nevertheless tend to a clear decline, and also - and, moreover, to an even greater extent - organs that have already completely died out, the so-called residual or rudimentary. The well-known anatomist Wiedersheim collected in a very interesting essay * all the data relating to this subject. From the list he attached, it turns out that nine organs representing a person clear traces progressive development (the brain, muscles of the arms and face, sciatic muscles, expansion of the sacrum and the entrance to the pelvis, as well as the shoulder blades), there are twelve organs that are going to decline, although they are still capable of performing their functions (simplification of the muscles of the legs and feet, as well as pyramidal muscles, 11th and 12th pairs of ribs, olfactory tubercles and nasal conchas, caecum, fangs, etc.) and seventy-eight vestigial organs, either completely inactive, or capable of administration only to a very weak degree. The organs of this last category, representing the remains of animal ancestors of varying degrees, are scattered throughout almost all organic systems of man. Here we find the remains of the tail with its muscles, and a few extra pairs of ribs, as well as ear and occipital muscles and nerves, the appendix of the caecum, wisdom teeth and adnexal teeth, remnants of wool, etc., etc. In a word, these numerous organs clearly testify that in the human body there is a remnant of a whole series of purely animal ancestors, some of whose heritage has not yet completely died out and makes itself felt in one form or another.

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* Der Bau des Menschen. Freiburg, 1887.

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This is what, therefore, is human nature, which is put at the basis of moral life. The lower animal sits in it, far from being stifled, but capable, on the contrary, of breaking out. Just let it develop freely on the grounds that it is a "natural property" of our organism, and it will not be slow to break out.

Human nature, such as science reveals it to us, also does not indicate the existence of a special law of the harmonious development of individual parts. Along with the progressive development of only a few organs, there is a regression in the field of a much larger number of apparatuses. Man appeared as a result of one-sided, and not all-round improvement of the organism, and he adjoins not so much to adult monkeys as to their unevenly developed embryos. From a purely natural-historical point of view, a person could be recognized as a monkey "freak" with an exorbitantly developed brain, face and hands.

Without revealing traces of the uniform development of all organ systems, human nature does not present us with sufficient harmony with our aspirations and demands from it. This position, developed by me in several articles*, is best illustrated by examples from the field of reproductive organs, as one of the most complex organic systems. The various apparatuses included in this system do not develop hand in hand, as it should from the point of view of human aspirations and interests. The sensitive part of the apparatus develops much earlier and often lasts much longer than the most essential of this organ system. Hence the wide discord between the departments of the mechanism, which should have acted in strict harmony, and the source of much suffering and so-called "unnatural" actions.

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* Vestn. Europe. 1871, I; 1874, I; 1877, II.

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The study of other human organs also convinces how far their device is from the ideal that science can formulate. In one of my cited articles, I already cited the opinions of I. Müller and Helmholtz about the imperfection of our eye, in the construction of which "nature, as it were, deliberately accumulated contradictions in order to eliminate all the foundations of the theory of pre-existing harmony between the external and internal world."

One of the main sources of discord and disharmony is that man, descended from animals living alone or in small herds, had to develop into a being with the widest possible community. In this point lies the most painful place of his nature, which in this direction is subject to the most fundamental alteration.

As a result of all this series of considerations, it is concluded that the zoological principle, according to which the structure of the body should serve as a criterion of behavior, cannot be recognized as a basis for moral life suitable for guidance. By acting with the totality of ready, capable organs, we thereby sanction the conservative principle, regardless of the non-profits that may arise from this. Such is, for example, flying, in cases where wings are developed, but when this movement leads to trouble. By developing all the "natural, innate properties," even those that are already declining, we can cause a recurrent development, i.e., return to such animal properties that have already been more or less eliminated. Thus, a person could return to the level of a four-armed animal if he began to intensively develop the makings of the foot muscles "naturally characteristic" of him.

IV

In order to better understand the meaning of the above criticism, let us try to apply it to the particular provisions of the teaching of Count. Tolstoy.

One of the main provisions of this teaching is the preaching of physical labor, to which every person must indulge in an increased degree in order to follow the path to true happiness, obeying the only reasonable and true "law of life". Hands and feet should serve for physical labor, that is, for what they are "given", "and not for them to atrophy" (XII, 450). Following this rule, Mr. Tolstoy decided that a person who is fully capable of mental labor should first of all do with his own hands all the work necessary to satisfy his physical needs. Therefore, "to the question of what needs to be done, the most undoubted answer came: first of all, what I myself need - my samovar, my stove, my water, my clothes - everything that I can do myself" (XII, 432). As a result, such a distribution of time was obtained that out of sixteen hours of daily wakefulness, gr. Tolstoy began to use eight for physical labor (4 for handicraft, 4 others for coarser work), four for mental labor and the same amount for communication with people. The consequence of such a change in lifestyle, which introduced the correct alternation different kinds labor, there was a feeling of well-being and contentment that had not been experienced until then, reflected on the estate of c. Tolstoy, and on the quality of the works of his mental work.

If all people follow this example and begin to live in accordance with the "law of life", then "that false division of labor that exists in our society will be destroyed, and that just division of labor will be established that does not violate human happiness" (XII, 441). The opposite opinion of the men of science proves only that the latter follow a completely false path under the influence of the desire to free themselves from all work and justify the unnatural and unjust absorption of the labor of others. Science in general, such as it is for the most part in our time, does not deserve any attention and respect, since it, clinging to strong of the world of this, goes against common sense and seeks only excuses for parasitism and idleness.

Although many organs of man and animals are "given" precisely "to atrophy", i.e., in other words, that man and animals have inherited from their ancestors, by the way, such organs that for their own well-being had to or must atrophy, and although in man such atrophic phenomena have occurred to a large extent in the legs (as we saw in the previous chapter), nevertheless no one will seriously assert that the fore and lower limbs should have atrophied completely or to a large extent. But from this to the need for people capable of mental work to exercise them for eight hours daily is a whole abyss. Many types of mental work in themselves already require muscular labor. Thus, it is precisely the occupation of most of the natural sciences that is often associated with a significant exercise of the muscles of the limbs, especially the arms. Laboratory technique, with all its complications and improvements, in itself already provides the scientist from excessive weakening. muscular system. If it is said to this that studies in many sciences do not offer such a guarantee, then it can be objected that if part of the time is to be devoted to the exercise of muscles, then let such scientists study physics, chemistry or biology, since these specialties, associated with physical labor , will be much more useful for them than the ability to set up samovars, sew boots, etc. classes.

Without any doubt that some physical work is very desirable, and sometimes simply necessary for people of mental labor, it should, however, be recognized as exaggerated by the often repeated opinions about the incompatibility of serious and persistent mental labor with the inactivity of the muscular system. There is no such close relationship between the cerebral hemispheres and muscles that underdevelopment or disease of one of these organs necessarily causes a corresponding change in others. Between these organs there is no similarity of such a relationship as, for example, between the genital organs and facial hair, when the underdevelopment of the former necessarily affects the development of the beard and mustache. Between the nervous and muscular systems, even an inverse relationship is sometimes noticed, that is, an increased development of one next to the weakness of the other, just as often underdeveloped or completely atrophied organs are replaced in their administration by others. This is observed precisely in the muscular and glandular systems; Thus, a healthy kidney develops intensively, taking on the role of a diseased organ.

Damage to the organ of mental activity, leading to a complete loss of reason, is often combined with a very significant development of the muscular system and, in general, with a flourishing physical condition. And vice versa, the most intense mental work is associated with poor health in general and soreness of the nervous and muscular systems in particular. As you know, the most brilliant biologist of our century, Darwin, was distinguished almost all his life by poor health, and this did not prevent him from being the first in terms of the quality and intensity of mental labor. Since this argument may seem powerless precisely in the eyes of Mr. Tolstoy, who considers Darwin a scientist beyond all criticism, I will try to give another example.

According to gr. Tolstoy, only he can be recognized as a real scientist who works "for the benefit of the people" and directs his activity to "participation in the struggle against nature for his life and the lives of other people." These requirements can be fully satisfied by the most brilliant living biologist, Pasteur. Although he is in the eyes of gr. Tolstoy and is sinful in that he dealt a lot with the question of arbitrary generation (which is attributed by Count Tolstoy - XII, p. 393 - to the number idle questions ), but on the other hand, he taught how to get rid of the silkworm disease that ruined many French and Italian peasants, found a way to protect domestic animals from anthrax and some other diseases, and finally came up with a preventive treatment for rabies, saving mainly for poor people in general (who are more likely to be bitten by rabid animals) and for peasants, even Russian peasants in particular. Moreover, this treatment, suitable not only for “those people who do nothing” and “who all can get for themselves” (vol. XII, p. 401), since it is provided free of charge, was invented by a scientist who does not belong to the medical class and often in opposition to the latter, which should also increase his weight in the eyes of gr. Tolstoy. And what? Pasteur made most of these ingenious discoveries without even being able to do laboratory work himself, since for more than twenty-two years he had been paralyzed on the whole half (left) of his body. In general, his mechanical activity was reduced only to walks for the purpose of relaxation and occasionally to playing billiards. Despite his physical weakness, Pasteur, however, solved many of the most important problems of theoretical and applied science, and, moreover, he solved it not only by the ability to ingenious intuition, but by persistent, tireless mental work. What did not happen to him is what Mr. L. Tolstoy about the most educated member of a community he knew, a member who had to prepare for evening lectures during the day. “He did it with joy, feeling that he was useful to others and doing a good job. But he was tired of exclusively mental work, and his health became worse. Members of the community took pity on him and asked him to go work in the field” (XII, 444). In addition to the above, numerous examples of people with paralysis of the legs, who continue to work with the brain and hands, as well as those without arms, who work with their legs and achieve significant mental development, convince us that the doctrine of the need for increased physical labor for mental activity should be limited. I will refer, as an example, to one particular case, which presents us with an extreme underdevelopment of the body*. A few years ago, an old girl, 50-60 years old, was put up for public display, having a height of no more than half an arshin, and her head, of normal size, occupied about half the length of the entire body. Small hands were attached to the insignificant twisted torso, of which the right could not move without the help of the left; the legs, greatly atrophied, remained in a horizontal position and were completely motionless. Despite the striking underdevelopment of the skeletal and muscular systems, the described subject has "all the senses, as well as mental capacity, memory and judgment were excellently developed. "It must also be borne in mind that, on the other hand, the requirements of serious mental labor do not allow spending a significant amount of time on muscular work. The achievement of those practically so important results of Pasteur and his laboratory, about which I have just mentioned, was conceivable only by hard and uninterrupted labor, often lasting twelve hours a day.Scientists pursuing some serious task can at best take a short walk in the form of rest and often do not have time to respond to all that is done. What is the possibility of limiting mental work to four hours a day, while giving eight hours to physical labor and another four hours to socializing? that every man "devote four or five hours a day to the diligent labor", i.e. "for production necessary accessories life, the delivery of raw material and education", all the more so since the authors of such a project themselves admit that "under similar conditions, we may have less Darwins, that is, less than those geniuses who, by the labors that are the fruit of thirty years of work, produce a revolution in science and create new branches of knowledge. "They are still too few, these geniuses, but what will happen if the projected reform is actually carried out?

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I closely know a Russian scientist who, as a very young man, in the sixties (hence, long before the sermons of Count L. Tolstoy), decided to combine studies in the natural sciences with a way of life based on the theory of "harmonic administration of parts for the good of the whole" . To this end, he began to live alone, without servants, trying, as far as possible, to satisfy his own needs, completely in the way that later Count. L. Tolstoy, when he decided that he should do everything that he "himself needs - my samovar, my stove, my water, my clothes" (XII, 432). Only my scientist did without a samovar at all and tried, as much as possible, to simplify everyday life, only in rare cases cleaning the dress and boots, cleaning the room, etc.

Despite the fact that very sensitive inconveniences from such a “combination of labor” soon began to affect, nevertheless, the young natural scientist remained true to the principle and strengthened himself as much as he could. But one day, in late autumn, he fell seriously ill and, being in a helpless state, was transported by friends to their apartment and taken into their good care. Since then, he has not returned to the "natural" and "harmonious" way of life.

His conclusion about the possibility of reducing mental work to four hours a day gr. L. Tolstoy obviously bases it on incorrect data. So, for example, he speaks of "ten free hours a day for every mental worker" (XII, 454) and asserts that "the servant of science, that is, the servant and teacher of the truth, forcing other people to do for himself what he he can do it himself, spends half his time in sweet food, smoking, chatting, liberal gossip, reading newspapers, novels and visiting theaters" (XII, 395). I have no doubt that Mr. L. Tolstoy took these examples from real life, since I myself know similar cases (moreover, "chatter" and "gossip" are often of a completely illiberal nature), but I resolutely do not recognize that it is possible to base an assessment of people seriously engaged in science on them. and moving it forward. A somewhat close acquaintance with many Russian and Western European scientists is enough to firmly assert that they are in no way guilty of such idleness and that their way of life is by no means reconciled with the exception of eight hours a day for muscular work and four for communication. with people. Cases, really striking, in which gr. Tolstoy based his incorrect conclusion, they only prove that there are people who have completely vainly and unfairly attached themselves to science and for whom it would be very desirable that they not even devote four hours a day to mental labor, but would be engaged exclusively in physical. The only trouble is that such people will always remain deaf to the sermons of Count. Tolstoy and that their conscience cannot be shaken by anything at all.

Speaking about the need for prolonged physical labor, gr. L. Tolstoy often refers to his own example. Nobody doubts that Mr. Tolstoy is a brilliant novelist who brought people innumerable benefits, but it is precisely his example that cannot serve as an argument in favor of his view. For the most part, writing does not require such a long and varied work as other types of mental activity and especially scientific studies. Although gr. Tolstoy and says that he "was engaged in mental labor all his life" (XII, 441), but from his own confessions it is clear that he "used to spend half the day in heavy efforts to fight boredom" (XII, 433) and that the most his dear demands from life, "precisely the demands of vanity and distraction from boredom, came directly from an idle life" (XII, 435). Under such conditions, of course, it is very good that Mr. Tolstoy turned to intensive physical labor, although one cannot help but regret that, while taking on journalistic and philosophical treatises, he did not devote more than four hours a day to mental work. An overly long exercise of the muscular system obviously did not leave him enough time to familiarize himself with many scientific issues, about which he often expresses very sharp and completely incorrect judgments (for example, about Darwinism, about the futility of research, about protoplasm, and many others. ).

The proposed gr. Tolstoy, the project of limiting the division of labor cannot be accepted both because of the precariousness of its natural historical foundation (the need to develop all the parts characteristic of the body), and also because of the impossibility of limiting the requirements of serious mental labor. However, from the fact that the division of labor between people cannot be eliminated, it does not yet follow that human conscience does not resent the injustice of an overly intensified division of labor and does not look for ways to help the misfortune. The solution of this problem, which is the ideal to which many people aspire, will be correct only under the condition that the most essential interests of mental labor, necessary for the struggle with nature in general and with the negative aspects of human nature in particular, do not suffer from it.

V

The reference to the properties of female nature, as proof that all the activity of a woman should be exclusively concentrated around the birth, feeding and raising children, and that therefore the study of the sciences for her is something unnatural and undesirable, has become such a hackneyed place that it is repeated everywhere and everywhere. , here and in the west of Europe, scientists and unlearned people. On the same point of view was also gr. L. Tolstoy with his characteristic passion... Already in the Bible it is said that a woman is given the law of giving birth to children, any deviation from which is unnatural and criminal. For this purpose, there is no need to engage in science, which, under the pretext of development, leads to "stupefaction" and, moreover, prevents the birth of children (XII, 462). “A woman who spends the greater part of her life in her own unique labor of bearing, feeding, and reproducing children will feel that she is doing what she must, and will arouse the respect and love of other people, because she is doing what is intended for her by nature. "(468).

I don't know how gr. looks at all this now. Tolstoy, after he wrote the Kreutzer Sonata and the Afterword to it, but I am all the more willing to dwell on the application of the metriopathic view to the question of women because here, apparently, the most serious difficulty for the views that I pursue in my essays. It cannot really be denied that female nature is specially adapted to the production and upbringing of children, and not to the performance of higher forms of mental work. All attempts to prove the contrary, as, for example, in J. S. Mill's famous treatise on women, only reveal the validity of this proposition with greater force.

The lack of initiative, a quality so essential to the pursuit of the highest kinds of human activity, such as science and art, is one of the outstanding features of the female warehouse. This can be seen even in such a field as music, where, despite an excellent and long school, a woman could not go beyond virtuosity. It would hardly be a mistake to assume that women in general study music much more and longer than men, and, despite this, not a single even minor composer came out of them. Even in the fields of culinary and tailoring, women have shown incomparably less talent than men. And their organism itself represents a kind of arrest in development, as can be seen from a comparison of the female and male skulls and a number of other signs*.

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* See Essay on Marriage. Bulletin of Europe, 1874, I.

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One cannot agree with the opinion of those who think that a purely feminine activity for the maintenance of offspring can be easily combined with a serious occupation in some branch of science or art; the few exceptions invoked in such cases cannot be raised to a general rule. Examples from peasant life, where a woman reconciles the production of often numerous offspring with increased physical labor, are even less convincing, since here, firstly, there is a discussion about physical, and not mental labor, incomparably more whimsical, and most importantly, from this combination it turns out extremely careless cultivation and upbringing of children, coupled with a significant mortality of the latter.

If, on the one hand, it cannot be denied that female nature, adapted more specifically for the purpose of reproduction, is inferior to male in relation to higher manifestations mental labor, then, on the other hand, it is impossible not to see that for quite a long time a serious and firm desire has matured among women for the highest spheres of human activity. This desire seemed unnatural, immature and ridiculous to many, a simple pursuit of some kind of fashion; but hard facts have shown the contrary. Of course; among many women who wished to penetrate into this new and difficult area for them, there were not a few in whom these aspirations were not serious enough and strong enough and who therefore had to stop or step back; but there were those who remained true to their ideal.

At first glance, it may easily seem that there is some basic contradiction in all this; but upon closer examination of the case, this assumption falls away. Obviously, in the so-called women's question, a strong inner, as it were, instinctive desire to get ahead of nature, to step over the narrow limits imposed by the "natural properties" of the female organism is revealed. And there is nothing particularly paradoxical in this, since similar phenomena have occurred and are now occurring in the animal world.

Since the higher animals, i.e., vertebrates, do not present us with cases of such a developed society as man, we will inevitably have to descend into the region of lower animals. Fortunately, insects, which provide us with examples of a very complex social life, turn out to be highly gifted in many other ways. Among them, the most developed societies are observed in termites, ants and bees. Although the last two groups of insects belong to the same order (Hymenoptera), nevertheless, there can be no doubt that the society developed among them quite independently of each other. About a completely native origin public forms There can be no question of termites, since these insects belong to another order - Orthoptera. What do we see in them? It turns out that in all these most close-knit and complex animal societies, next to the division of labor between different individuals, sterility has been established in a significant number of individuals, and, moreover, much more among females. Barren males have evolved only in termites. These sterile insects perform all public works, and some of them play the role of warriors, protecting nests from attack and, in turn, attacking other animals.

The fact that with such close social cohesion necessarily and independently (i.e., in addition to hereditary transmission) barrenness of most individuals has developed, in itself indicates the extremely important importance of this phenomenon for the well-being, happiness of the whole community.

When examining questions of human life from a natural-historical point of view, one usually encounters the important inconvenience that in humans we find phenomena that are not yet completed, often only beginning, while in animals, which we take for comparison, the processes are presented in their finished, final form. So it is in this case. While in humans only the first steps towards sterility are noticed, in social insects, like ants, bees and termites, such a division of functions has already been fully established, in which only a few members of the community serve for reproduction, while the vast majority of them, unusable for procreation (except perhaps in some special cases), does all the work and guards the safety of the community. It would therefore be very interesting if a more suitable example could be found, i.e., if a case could be found that would allow us to penetrate a little closer to the very process of the emergence of sterility in female social insects.

For this purpose, let us turn to a species of wasp found in France and Southern Germany, known as the "Gallic wasp" (Polistes gallica) and excellently studied by the late zoologist Siebold*. This wasp has not yet had such a deep separation of individuals as bees, ants and termites. In addition to males, she has females that differ in size: larger and smaller females. In both these forms, the reproductive organs are fully developed, and small females, like large ones, have everything that is necessary for fertilization and egg laying. In this respect they differ from the worker bees, since the reproductive apparatus of the latter is underdeveloped and they are deprived of the organs that make fertilization possible.

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* Beitrage zur Parthenogenesis des Arthropoden. Leipzig, 1871.

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But between the larger and smaller females of the Gallic wasp, significant differences in lifestyle and instincts have already been established. Only large females overwinter, and they also form the beginning of a community. Usually, at the beginning of spring, one such female builds herself a small nest of chewed wood, from which she prepares a mass like papier-mâché. Soon she lays an egg in each cell of the nest, from which helpless worm-like larvae emerge. "Further development of these larvae," says Siebold, "is slow, because the female queen, forced to single-handedly take care of the whole nest, is not able to deliver a sufficient amount of food for her hungry larvae" (p. 18). In June, a whole small swarm of wasps hatch from such underfed larvae, which turn out to be the aforementioned small females. These latter immediately set to work, enlarge the nest and deliver plentiful food to the new generation of larvae, as a result of which "the larvae grow faster, become larger and finally turn into larger wasps, which are not inferior in size to the female queen" (21). Thanks to the useful work of small females, nests are carefully guarded from numerous nocturnal enemies (such as spiders, earwigs, wood lice, etc.), which often destroy all larvae at a time when small females have not yet hatched, and the queen female is sleeping peacefully, not caring about the fate of their offspring. So active in working for the common good of the colony, the little females are very insensitive in love. "Small females do not pay the slightest attention to the courtship of males that have hatched and matured during the summer. They are too busy caring for larvae and usually drive out importunate courtiers" (p. 41). These females, however, retain the ability, in case of need, to lay unfertilized eggs, from which only males can hatch.

In this example we thus see one of the first steps in the division of labor between females and the acquisition of barrenness among social animals. The female queen is still doing the work, but she can no longer cope with all the offspring herself, and the whole community is in danger if small females do not appear in time, occupied mainly with work for the “common good”. The nature of these females is arranged in such a way * that they could easily enter into marriage. From a metropathic point of view, it should be so. Admirers of conformity with "natural properties" should have been indignant and rebelled against the "unnatural" act of small females who reject suitors, preferring to remain in virginity their whole life and devote the last to caring for other people's children. The same preachers should have been no less indignant at the behavior of the female queen, who gives birth to many children, whom she herself is not able to protect and feed, but transfers them into the wrong hands for this. If both forms of females listened to the voice of such moralists and ceased to follow their aspirations, then, as is easy to foresee, the community would fall apart and its individual members would suffer. Obedience to such instinctive urges, despite its seeming unnaturalness, led to the development of social life, such as we see, for example, in bees.

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* Siebold several times (pp. 17, 20, 56) insists with particular emphasis that, in anatomical terms, small females are arranged just as precisely as large ones, and have all the equipment necessary for mating life.

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This whole story of the Gallic wasp convinces us that instinctive, functional changes can go ahead of changes in organs and show them the way. It can be predicted that if the further development of society in this wasp proceeds in the same direction, it will lead to a change in the structure of the reproductive organs in small females and to the establishment of two sharply different forms: workers and queens, similar to how it occurs in bees.

If we apply the obtained data to the women's question, we must first of all note that the natural properties of the female body adapted for childbearing cannot serve as the slightest obstacle to satisfying the desire of some women to devote themselves to the higher spheres of mental labor. For this, it is not even necessary that such women should have the same indifference to marriage as the virgin Gallic wasps, although numerous examples are known of women's aversion to married life. This and many other, generally quite frequent in the human race, deviations of the sexual instincts indicate that the first step on the path to infertility has already been taken. It is quite possible that from this began a process of isolation in human societies, similar to that which moved much further in insects, and that in time there will be established, although not so sharp, a division of people into the most and least fertile, or even completely barren. The latter, having the opportunity to devote themselves exclusively to the higher spheres of human activity, will serve society mainly by mental labor.

The fear that, with such an uneven distribution of reproduction, people who are mentally superior will not leave direct offspring that could maintain and develop the qualities most precious to society, turns out to be untenable on closer examination. The example of insects with extreme isolation of barrenness and division of labor in communities proves quite well that inactive and undeveloped parents (the queen and drones of bees) can produce much more capable and industrious offspring (worker bees) and that the changes observed in these barren insects can be repeated and improved over a number of generations. It can be explained in this way. The female produces a mass of eggs, in which the most varied inclinations are invested; while in some embryos only one of these inclinations has fully developed, in the rest completely others have developed. A queen bee with a poorly developed brain, which produced workers with a very perfect nervous system, itself could have the makings of a very highly gifted brain that did not develop later. Darwin gives another example. There are breeds of winter levkoy with terry, therefore, barren, and simple, seed-giving flowers. The latter will correspond to queen bees, and terry flowers to barren workers. These levkoi reproduce exclusively by seeds, from which, however, they originate, for the most part, double flowers and only in more rare cases, simple, seed-bearing ones. Here, terry is transmitted through non-terry, simple flowers. When applied to humans, this leads to the assumption that fertile people will inherit the traits of their highly gifted, barren relatives. These latter, one must think, proved to be outstanding only as a result of the fact that in them the inclinations were fully developed, which they received directly from their prolific parents. Let us suppose that in some family there is a clearly outstanding but fruitless figure. He himself cannot pass on his traits to offspring, but a similar talent may be found in some other family member, for example, in a nephew, sister or brother. These assumptions, as well as the facts of inheritance in social insects and winter levkoy, are fully consistent with modern ideas about heredity, according to which characters acquired after birth are never transmitted to offspring. The latter, however, receives only inclinations that can be passed on from generation to generation and develop abundantly or stall.

The fear that the establishment of particular barrenness will lead to general extinction must also not be recognized as justified, since in the process of further isolation, next to the barrenness of some individuals, the fertility of others should or at least may increase, just as it happened in world of social insects. Even now we see that in a family in which there are several children, it does not constitute a significant burden to have two or three more, while the life of a childless marriage immediately changes in the most radical way from the moment a child is born in it. It must also be borne in mind that with the advances of culture and, mainly, of scientific medicine, mortality in general, and in childhood in particular, which has already significantly decreased, will become less and less with time. It is even possible that the resulting increase in population will make it necessary to take care of a decrease in the number of births, and then, prepared by development, private barrenness will reveal all its usefulness.

The example of a gradual decrease in the percentage of population growth in France, about which there is so much talk now, after Lagnot's report, proves nothing in our question. In any case, there can be no question of the harmful influence of women's scientific education, since it is almost completely absent among French women. It's rather just the opposite. The dissemination among them of a serious education, capable only of eradicating tastes for luxury and empty pleasures in life in general, can help maintain the necessary level of reproduction.

Without looking too far ahead, one can even now be convinced of the benefits of attending higher courses and, in general, the participation of women in higher mental labor. Not to mention those of them who remain true to their specialty and follow the once chosen path, even those women who later leave the higher spheres of activity still retain a taste for them and support it in people close to them, instead of opposing development. and indulge the desire for an empty and idle life. Although, as was said above, women are musically much lower than men, but how much benefit they have brought with the success of music by developing and maintaining a taste for it in children and in general those close to them! Who does not know in this respect the example of the mother of our brilliant composer and virtuoso A. Rubinstein, who played such a role in the development of the musical talent of her children? The same applies to the scientific field.

We get as a result of this consideration women's issue from a biological point of view, that here, as in many other things, the very interests of development do not fit in with reverence for ready-made and imperfect forms given by the natural structure of the human body, but, on the contrary, require a sensitive and attentive attitude to the manifested aspirations for an ideal that stubbornly breaks through, despite all sorts of pressure from all sides and, by the way, from Gr. L. Tolstoy obstacles.

When considering the women's issue, we had to completely disagree with the views of gr. L. Tolstoy, who in this case consistently stands on the principle of admiration for the ready-made forms of human nature and in its name tramples on the ideal, which is clearly expressed. On the question of mental and muscular labor, we were also forced to object to Count Tolstoy; only here we separated the ideal he professed - preaching against luxury and the desire to prevent the transformation of man into a meaningless machine - from an attempt to prove that it is necessary to push scientific activity into the background and turn to increased muscular labor.

It is impossible not to sympathize with Mr. L. Tolstoy in his preaching of humanity and gentle treatment of people and animals, but not because torturing and killing people and animals was "disgusting and painful to human nature", but despite the fact that torturing people and animals is very characteristic of human nature. Just as young predatory animals play at baiting, and adult animals delight in torturing their victims, so children find most of their greatest pleasure in torturing and killing animals. Such a widespread passion for hunting in children and adults, warlike inclinations and brutality, found in all cases when it is possible free manifestation instincts, serve as a clear refutation of the opinion of c. L. Tolstoy.

It can be assumed that the inclinations of the zoological progenitors of man were very ferocious and that these ancestors in their character resembled a gorilla rather than a chimpanzee. They must have inherited those brutal habits that so often make themselves felt in human world. Despite all this, it is impossible not to wish that in the fight against evil arising from the evil sides of human nature, the mildest possible measures should be used. Of course, it is impossible to agree with Mr. L. Tolstoy, when he allows violence only "in relation to the child and only to deliver him from the evil that immediately awaits him" (What is my faith, p. 195), since in reality an incomparably greater number of exceptions should be recognized, in who need to resort to violence. But here the difference is not fundamental, but purely quantitative, since Count himself. Tolstoy admits that the rule: "do not resist evil with violence" cannot be applied in its entire sequence. On the other hand, one cannot but wish to extend it to the methods of literary criticism and polemics, since too passionate speech with foam at the mouth, stigmatizing opponents with shameful epithets and attributing to them the lowest motives ("stupidity" of opponents, "fooling" opponents, "parasites" scientists and artists, priests of science and art, "the most vile deceivers," and much more than Count L. Tolstoy's articles are sprinkled with) can only damage the cause, perhaps make one think that such devices serve only to cover up the weakness of the main argument.

In which direction we would not pay attention in all these vital matters, everywhere we will see a more or less sharp bifurcation. On the one hand, nature inherited from animal ancestors with all its negative aspects, on the other hand, a strong, irresistible desire for an ideal, for a better future. This latter is expressed either in the form of beliefs in such a state when people will appear in a different image and justice will reign, then in the form of dreams of a golden age that will come true on earth, then in the form of faith in progress and historical justice. Although criticism succeeds in destroying these illusions, nevertheless, in the end, a ray of hope sometimes emerges that the situation may not yet be so desperate. At the same time, it must always be borne in mind that many questions that previously seemed insoluble have given way to the human mind and energy, and that, successfully fighting nature, man has managed to change a lot, if not in his own nature, then in the nature of the creatures around him.

The process by which the development and change of forms in the organic world took place ultimately comes down to natural selection, that is, to the survival of the beings most gifted in the struggle for existence, side by side with the extinction of the least adapted organisms. As a result of this process, many organic species have emerged, bearing clear signs of expediency in the structure of their body. One must think that man too owes his origin to the same force of natural selection, which manifested its effect on some zoological humanoid progenitor.

This view, which is the essence of the Darwinian doctrine, which, during more than thirty years of struggle, withstood the most difficult test, is now Foundation stone of all biology, and not only biology, but also other branches of knowledge that are in contact with it. True, gr. -L. Tolstoy considers it the result of "the idle games of thought of the people of so-called science" (XII, 382) and thinks that it can be got rid of with two or three jokes (for example, like attributing to Darwinism the absurdity that "one animal can become out of a swarm of bees") and the objection "that no one has ever seen how some organisms are made from others" (ibid.), just as if science could be limited only to what can be seen directly with the eyes! I will not dwell here any longer on this "criticism", since it does not contain a single sign of such, and I consider myself all the more entitled to do this, since I have published whole line articles in Vestnik Evropy for 1876, in which I tried to set out in a popular-scientific form the full significance of Darwin's teaching, without hiding, of course, its shortcomings.

In the human world, along with the development of consciousness, "natural" began to give way to "artificial" and natural selection began to degenerate into artificial. This happened because "art" greatly accelerated the process of development, and, therefore, turned out to be very useful in general. Let's explain it last position example. Climate change found both man and animals inadequately adapted to low temperatures; but while in the latter this adaptation could only be accomplished by the development of a copious coat of hair and the deposition of subcutaneous fat, in man it has come about through the art of dressing. Fortunately, our ancestors did not stop at the fact that since nature created them naked, they did not have to cover themselves with "unnatural" clothes; they followed their immediate feeling, prompting them to warm themselves, and as a result turned out to be victorious over nature.

Capturing more and more large area, art began to change the appearance of the organisms that surrounded a person. At the same time, for a very long time, artificial selection entered the scene, through which it was possible to relatively a short time to select and strengthen through heredity many properties precious to man. In those cases where such a selection is made quite consciously, people who have devoted themselves to this specialty begin by setting out, first of all, the goal towards which they should strive. Darwin, summarizing data on the selection of pigeons, puts it this way: "The selection is made methodically in the case when the breeder tries to improve or change the breed, according to a preconceived ideal" *. The establishment of the latter is not a matter of simple fantasy or whim; in order to outline an ideal that would be realizable, an exact knowledge of the nature of the organism and a sufficient amount of initiative are necessary. This ideal will never be a simple copy of reality, but always the result of a synthesis of the latter with human imagination and thinking. That is why, even in a field as narrow and defined as artificial selection of pets, so much data is required from the "idealist" who plans the path. Numerous animal and plant lovers hold meetings at which, after long discussion, they outline the ideal to which they should strive, and express it in a program for the implementation of which a prize is due. This selection process can serve as an example of how "art" in a higher and broader sense of the word should take shape, that is, both as fine art and as everyday art, or practically philosophy. In both, the ideal should be put in the foreground, as a product of the synthesis of the inner and outer worlds. Fine art should not be realistic, in the sense of a slavish imitation of reality; it can and must go beyond the latter. When an amateur horticulturist or animal breeder invokes the ideal he has created in a drawing, the latter depicts the animal or plant not as it really is, but as it should be afterwards. Only if he is a serious "idealist" will he conform in his ideal to nature and its laws, which cannot be circumvented.

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* Domesticated animals and cultivated plants. Russian trans., I, p. 227.

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It is the same in worldly art, or ethics. The moralist must not stop slavishly at ready-made forms, however "natural" or "natural" they may seem. He must try to step over these boundaries in order to move towards the ideal, outlined again on the basis of all the data of reality.

In this whole vast field of art, therefore, an idealism based on exact and comprehensive knowledge is required. If anyone were to take it into his head to set as an ideal the acquisition of wings, according to the ideas of aerial angels and other similar beings, then such an aim would have to be rejected on the basis of the law according to which the development of the flying membrane or real wings hinders the movements of the limbs, which are so important for man, and also on the basis of the fact that one can come closer to the goal by improving aeronautics. If the ideal is, for example, a change in some natural properties that prevent a woman from satisfying her inexorable desire for the highest spheres of human activity, then I see no reason why art should not be directed towards achieving such a goal.

There is no doubt that the transition from natural selection to conscious, artificial selection in application to man must constitute a critical and therefore extremely difficult period in the life of mankind. It requires, on the one hand, free development ideal aspirations to determine that reasonable ideal towards which activity can be directed; on the other hand, it is unthinkable without significant advances in positive knowledge. Since both of these conditions concern the most delicate and tender offspring of human activity, which are easily deafened by a too rough touch of reality, it is not surprising that at times there may be a doubt about the success of further development and the most gloomy look at the future.

The conclusion made more than thirty years ago by Bockle as a result of a review of the path traversed by mankind is confirmed more and more every day. The most enduring successes obtained by men are precisely those made with the help of positive knowledge. The most serious hopes that can be cherished must be placed in further progress in the same field. From this it is clear that our immediate goal should be everything that can most contribute to these successes.

The most passionate protests have more than once been heard against science and the culture that develops under its influence. However, they were unable to stop her movements. No less talented than the controversy of gr. L. Tolstoy, sermon J.-J. Rousseau, who, moreover, acted at a time when knowledge had still put down much smaller roots, and she was not able to slow down its progress in any noticeable way. It is to be hoped that the new sermon of the author of the article "On the Purpose of Science and Art" will not have much influence.

True, we apparently have some special conditions that favor everything that is hostile to science and culture. It is remarkable that, in spite of the inclination towards the search for an ideal, which was mentioned at the beginning of this article, at the same time, doctrines that go against science enjoy special sympathy among us. The desire to join the people, the return to physical work, the "simplification of life", etc. - all these are just various forms in which the need to break the connection with serious scientific work has taken on. Is this phenomenon to some extent explained by an example from the life of that community, about which Count. L. Tolstoy and whose most educated member, after preparing for evening work, "tired of exclusively mental work" (XII, 444)? Perhaps our brains, which have only recently been directed to mental work, simply cannot withstand the stubborn and constant tension that is necessary for the serious pursuit of science, and instinctively drag us back. Some analogy to this phenomenon is provided by examples from the life of more primitive people who, despite their vast natural gifts and the ease with which they assimilate European culture and science, after a certain time break with all this and calm down only when they return to their former lifestyle. If this assumption is correct, then the trouble can be helped by the correct organization of training and the gradual accustoming to persistent brain work. In this case, one can hope that tireless scientific work, combined with an irresistible striving for the ideal, will not be slow to bear abundant fruit.

Mechnikov Ilya Ilyich (1845-1916) Russian microbiologist and pathologist, awarded the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 1908 (together with P. Ehrlich) for studying the nature of immunity, Honorary Member Petersburg Academy of Sciences (1902).