Butler tells ("Life and Habit," p. 33) that he sometimes hoped "that
this book would be regarded as a valuable adjunct to Darwinism." He
was bitterly disappointed in the event, for the book, as a whole, was
received by professional biologists as a gigantic joke--a joke,
moreover, not in the best possible taste. True, its central ideas,
largely those of Lamarck, had been presented by Hering in 1870 (as
Butler found shortly after his publication); they had been favourably
received, developed by Haeckel, expounded and praised by Ray
Lankester. Coming from Butler, they met with contumely, even from
such men as Romanes, who, as Butler had no difficulty in proving,
were unconsciously inspired by the same ideas--"Nur mit ein bischen
ander'n Worter."

It is easy, looking back, to see why "Life and Habit" so missed its
mark. Charles Darwin's presentation of the evolution theory had, for
the first time, rendered it possible for a "sound naturalist" to
accept the doctrine of common descent with divergence; and so given a
real meaning to the term "natural relationship," which had forced
itself upon the older naturalists, despite their belief in special
and independent creations. The immediate aim of the naturalists of
the day was now to fill up the gaps in their knowledge, so as to
strengthen the fabric of a unified biology. For this purpose they
found their actual scientific equipment so inadequate that they were
fully occupied in inventing fresh technique, and working therewith at
facts--save a few critics, such as St. George Mivart, who was
regarded as negligible, since he evidently held a brief for a party
standing outside the scientific world.

Butler introduced himself as what we now call "The Man in the