sufficiently powerful microscopes, we will perhaps be able to observe them physically. As to the mechanism that ensures that each creature carries a pair of alleles and passes exactly one of them to the offspring, that is also a physical reality. The power of Mendel’s theory is that it proves that the choice of which allele passes down proceeds according to the laws of probability. For the rest, the only mystery that remains is how God could fabricate machines as utterly complex and fascinating as living creatures surely are. And the question of God’s power will no doubt remain forever beyond our grasp.’
‘You mean that human beings must be content to be satisfied with the physical explanation, as long as it is complete.’
‘For myself,’ he said, ‘between the physical description of the alleles, and the mathematical description of their behaviour, it is the theory that I find the most interesting. Can you imagine that Mendel understood why, when a yellow pea plant is crossed with a purebred green, they will have only green offspring, but exactly one quarter of the grandchildren provided by mating those offspring will be yellow? And how many typical human characteristics of heredity are explained by that same observation?’
‘You’re right – that is striking,’ I said, my thoughts reverting suddenly to Sebastian. ‘I have often heard that many traits are seen to “skip a generation”, and to pass directly from grandparent to grandchild without being visible in the parents. Do you think that Mendel’s theory could really explain it?’
‘But it is certain!’ he said. ‘For one particular example of such a thing, one might say that it could be due to many complex combinations of heredity, but when such a thing is perceived very generally, there is no doubt that it must be interpreted as a consequence of the theory.’
‘This is one of the most fascinating things I have ever heard,’ I declared. I was bemused and seduced by it all: it seemed so very revealing, so daring, so deep and yet so fundamentally simple – and so patently true! ‘But still,’ I went on, ‘there is something I don’t understand. If your theory explains the hereditary transmission of physical features – and I quite understand that human features are subject to a great many more variations than pea plants, and therefore the number of possibilities is gigantic, yet the mathematical laws governing them would be the same – what about the transmission of non-physical attributes?’
‘You mean such as character?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Such as often-noted family tendencies such as a quick temper, or a high intelligence. Or – or musical gifts.’
‘The question is both deep and subtle,’ he said, ‘and I have pondered it myself a great deal. I have finally arrived at the conclusion that, in spite of appearances, there is no way to be certain that these traits are not just as much consequences of a physical disposition as visible features are. Could not a musical talent be a consequence of a physical superiority of the ears, causing more acute appreciation of sounds that already seem beautiful to everyone?’
‘But surely the love of music, the feelings of emotion connected to art and the ability to communicate them are more than just a fine ear,’ I said.
‘Can we be certain? Could not an emotional, artistic temperament be a consequence of a more fragile heart, thus more easily and more strongly moved, again, by visions that are considered lovely by all? Could not a tendency to rage be due to some physical quality of the brain or the body?’
‘We do speak of “hot blood”,’ I replied thoughtfully. ‘Someone, somewhere, must have had an intuition of your claim that character traits are purely physical, to invent such a phrase. Yet it shocks my feelings!’
‘It shocked mine also, at the beginning,’ he said. ‘And, of course, it is true that education can be another powerful vehicle for transmission of
‘You mean that human beings must be content to be satisfied with the physical explanation, as long as it is complete.’
‘For myself,’ he said, ‘between the physical description of the alleles, and the mathematical description of their behaviour, it is the theory that I find the most interesting. Can you imagine that Mendel understood why, when a yellow pea plant is crossed with a purebred green, they will have only green offspring, but exactly one quarter of the grandchildren provided by mating those offspring will be yellow? And how many typical human characteristics of heredity are explained by that same observation?’
‘You’re right – that is striking,’ I said, my thoughts reverting suddenly to Sebastian. ‘I have often heard that many traits are seen to “skip a generation”, and to pass directly from grandparent to grandchild without being visible in the parents. Do you think that Mendel’s theory could really explain it?’
‘But it is certain!’ he said. ‘For one particular example of such a thing, one might say that it could be due to many complex combinations of heredity, but when such a thing is perceived very generally, there is no doubt that it must be interpreted as a consequence of the theory.’
‘This is one of the most fascinating things I have ever heard,’ I declared. I was bemused and seduced by it all: it seemed so very revealing, so daring, so deep and yet so fundamentally simple – and so patently true! ‘But still,’ I went on, ‘there is something I don’t understand. If your theory explains the hereditary transmission of physical features – and I quite understand that human features are subject to a great many more variations than pea plants, and therefore the number of possibilities is gigantic, yet the mathematical laws governing them would be the same – what about the transmission of non-physical attributes?’
‘You mean such as character?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Such as often-noted family tendencies such as a quick temper, or a high intelligence. Or – or musical gifts.’
‘The question is both deep and subtle,’ he said, ‘and I have pondered it myself a great deal. I have finally arrived at the conclusion that, in spite of appearances, there is no way to be certain that these traits are not just as much consequences of a physical disposition as visible features are. Could not a musical talent be a consequence of a physical superiority of the ears, causing more acute appreciation of sounds that already seem beautiful to everyone?’
‘But surely the love of music, the feelings of emotion connected to art and the ability to communicate them are more than just a fine ear,’ I said.
‘Can we be certain? Could not an emotional, artistic temperament be a consequence of a more fragile heart, thus more easily and more strongly moved, again, by visions that are considered lovely by all? Could not a tendency to rage be due to some physical quality of the brain or the body?’
‘We do speak of “hot blood”,’ I replied thoughtfully. ‘Someone, somewhere, must have had an intuition of your claim that character traits are purely physical, to invent such a phrase. Yet it shocks my feelings!’
‘It shocked mine also, at the beginning,’ he said. ‘And, of course, it is true that education can be another powerful vehicle for transmission of
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