reflection: past impressions and images are incessantly and clearly
passing through his mind. Now, with those animals which live
permanently in a body, the social instincts are ever present and
persistent. Such animals are always ready to utter the danger-signal,
to defend the community, and to give aid to their fellows in accordance
with their habits; they feel at all times, without the stimulus of any
special passion or desire, some degree of love and sympathy for them;
they are unhappy if long separated from them, and always happy to be
again in their company. So it is with ourselves. Even when we are quite
alone, how often do we think with pleasure or pain of what others think
of us--of their imagined approbation or disapprobation!--and this all
follows from sympathy, a fundamental element of the social instincts.
A man who possessed no trace of such instincts would be an unnatural
monster. On the other hand, the desire to satisfy hunger, or any
passion such as vengeance, is in its nature temporary, and can for a
time be fully satisfied. Nor is it easy, perhaps hardly possible, to
call up with complete vividness the feeling, for instance, of hunger;
nor, indeed, as has often been remarked, of any suffering. The instinct
of self-preservation is not felt except in the presence of danger; and
many a coward has thought himself brave until he has met his enemy face
to face. The wish for another man’s property is perhaps as persistent a
desire as any that can be named; but even in this case the satisfaction
of actual possession is generally a weaker feeling than the desire:
many a thief, if not an habitual one, after success has wondered why he
stole some article.
REMORSE EXPLAINED.
[Page 114.]
Several critics have objected that though some slight regret or
repentance may be explained by the view advocated in this chapter, it
is impossible thus to account for the soul-shaking feeling of remorse.
But I can see little force in this objection. My critics do not define
what they mean by remorse, and I can find no definition implying more
than an overwhelming sense of repentance. Remorse seems to bear the
same relation to repentance as rage does to anger, or agony to pain. It
is far from strange that an instinct so strong and so generally admired
as maternal love should, if disobeyed, lead to the deepest misery, as
soon as the impression of the past cause of disobedience is weakened.
Even when an action is opposed to no special instinct, merely to know
that our friends and equals despise us for it is enough to cause great
misery. Who can doubt that the refusal to fight a duel through fear
has caused many men an agony of shame? Many a Hindoo, it is said, has
been stirred to the bottom of his soul by having partaken of unclean
food. Here is another case of what must, I think, be called remorse.
Dr. Landor acted as a magistrate in West Australia, and relates that a
native on his farm, after losing one of his wives from disease, came
and said that “he was going to a distant tribe to spear a woman, to
satisfy his sense of duty to his wife.” I told him that if he did so
I would send him to prison for life. He remained about the farm for
some months, but got exceedingly thin, and complained that he could
not rest or eat, that his wife’s spirit was haunting him because he
had not taken a life for hers. I was inexorable, and assured him that
nothing should save him if he did. Nevertheless, the man disappeared
for more than a year, and then returned in high condition; and his
other wife told Dr. Landor that her husband had taken the life of a
woman belonging to a distant tribe; but it was impossible to obtain
legal evidence of the act. The breach of a rule held sacred by the
tribe will thus, as it seems, give rise to the deepest feelings, and
this quite apart from the social instincts, excepting in so far as the
rule is grounded on the judgment of the community. How so many strange
superstitions have arisen throughout the world we know not; nor can we
tell how some real and great crimes, such as incest, have come to be
held in an abhorrence (which is not, however, quite universal) by the
lowest savages. It is even doubtful whether in some tribes incest would
be looked on with greater horror than would the marriage of a man with
a woman bearing the same name, though not a relation. “To violate this
law is a crime which the Australians hold in the greatest abhorrence,
in this agreeing exactly with certain tribes of North America. When the
question is put in either district, is it worse to kill a girl of a
foreign tribe, or to marry a girl of one’s own, an answer just opposite
to ours would be given without hesitation.” We may, therefore, reject
the belief, lately insisted on by some writers, that the abhorrence of
incest is due to our possessing a special God-implanted conscience.
DEVELOPMENT OF SELF-CONTROL.
[Page 115.]
Man, prompted by his conscience, will through long habit acquire such
perfect self-command, that his desires and passions will at last
yield instantly and without a struggle to his social sympathies and
instincts, including his feeling for the judgment of his fellows. The
still hungry or the still revengeful man will not think of stealing
food, or of wreaking his vengeance. It is possible, or, as we shall
hereafter see, even probable, that the habit of self-command may, like
other habits, be inherited. Thus at last man comes to feel, through
acquired and perhaps inherited habit, that it is best for him to obey
his more persistent impulses. The imperious word _ought_ seems merely
to imply the consciousness of the existence of a rule of conduct,
however it may have originated. Formerly it must have been often
vehemently urged that an insulted gentleman _ought_ to fight a duel. We
even say that a pointer _ought_ to point, and a retriever to retrieve
game. If they fail to do so, they fail in their duty and act wrongly.
If any desire or instinct leading to an action opposed to the good of
others still appears, when recalled to mind, as strong as, or stronger
than, the social instinct, a man will feel no keen regret at having
followed it; but he will be conscious that, if his conduct were known
to his fellows, it would meet with their disapprobation; and few are so
destitute of sympathy as not to feel discomfort when this is realized.
If he has no such sympathy, and if his desires leading to bad actions
are at the time strong, and when recalled are not overmastered by the
persistent social instincts and the judgment of others, then he is
essentially a bad man; and the sole restraining motive left is the fear
of punishment, and the conviction that in the long run it would be best
for his own selfish interests to regard the good of others rather than
his own.
It is obvious that every one may with an easy conscience gratify his
own desires, if they do not interfere with his social instincts,
that is, with the good of others; but in order to be quite free
from self-reproach, or at least of anxiety, it is almost necessary
for him to avoid the disapprobation, whether reasonable or not, of
his fellow-men. Nor must he break through the fixed habits of his
life, especially if these are supported by reason; for, if he does,
he will assuredly feel dissatisfaction. He must likewise avoid the
reprobation of the one God or gods in whom, according to his knowledge
or superstition, he may believe; but in this case the additional fear
of divine punishment often supervenes.
VARIABILITY OF CONSCIENCE.
[Page 117.]
Suicide during former times was not generally considered as a crime,
but rather, from the courage displayed, as an honorable act; and it
is still practiced by some semi-civilized and savage nations without
reproach, for it does not obviously concern others of the tribe. It
has been recorded that an Indian thug conscientiously regretted that
he had not robbed and strangled as many travelers as did his father
before him. In a rude state of civilization the robbery of strangers
is, indeed, generally considered as honorable.
Slavery, although in some way beneficial during ancient times, is a
great crime; yet it was not so regarded until quite recently, even by
the most civilized nations. And this was especially the case because
the slaves belonged in general to a race different from that of their
masters. As barbarians do not regard the opinion of their women, wives
are commonly treated like slaves.
* * * * *
[Page 122.]
How so many absurd rules of conduct, as well as so many absurd
religious beliefs, have originated, we do not know; nor how it is that
they have become, in all quarters of the world, so deeply impressed on
the minds of men; but it is worthy of remark that a belief constantly
inculcated during the early years of life, while the brain is
impressible, appears to acquire almost the nature of an instinct; and
the very essence of an instinct is that it is followed independently
of reason. Neither can we say why certain admirable virtues, such as
the love of truth, are much more highly appreciated by some savage
tribes than by others; nor, again, why similar differences prevail even
among highly civilized nations. Knowing how firmly fixed many strange
customs and superstitions have become, we need feel no surprise that
the self-regarding virtues, supported as they are by reason, should now
appear to us so natural as to be thought innate, although they were not
valued by man in his early condition.
* * * * *
[Page 121.]
The wishes and opinions of the members of the same community, expressed
at first orally, but later by writing also, either form the sole guides
of our conduct, or greatly re-enforce the social instincts; such
opinions, however, have sometimes a tendency directly opposed to these
instincts. This latter fact is well exemplified by the _law of honor_,
that is, the law of the opinion of our equals, and not of all our
countrymen. The breach of this law, even when the breach is known to be
strictly accordant with true morality, has caused many a man more agony
than a real crime. We recognize the same influence in the burning sense
of shame which most of us have felt, even after the interval of years,
when calling to mind some accidental breach of a trifling, though
fixed, rule of etiquette.
PROGRESS NOT AN INVARIABLE RULE.
[Descent of
Man, page 140.]
We must remember that progress is no invariable rule. It is very
difficult to say why one civilized nation rises, becomes more
powerful, and spreads more widely, than another; or why the same
nation progresses more quickly at one time than at another. We can
only say that it depends on an increase in the actual number of the
population, on the number of the men endowed with high intellectual and
moral faculties, as well as on their standard of excellence. Corporeal
structure appears to have little influence, except so far as vigor of
body leads to vigor of mind.
It has been urged by several writers that, as high intellectual powers
are advantageous to a nation, the old Greeks, who stood some grades
higher in intellect than any race that has ever existed, ought, if the
power of natural selection were real, to have risen still higher in
the scale, increased in number, and stocked the whole of Europe. Here
we have the tacit assumption, so often made with respect to corporeal
structures, that there is some innate tendency toward continued
development in mind and body. But development of all kinds depends
on many concurrent favorable circumstances. Natural selection acts
only tentatively. Individuals and races may have acquired certain
indisputable advantages, and yet have perished from failing in other
characters. The Greeks may have retrograded from a want of coherence
between the many small states, from the small size of their whole
country, from the practice of slavery, or from extreme sensuality; for
they did not succumb until “they were enervated and corrupt to the
very core.” The Western nations of Europe, who now so immeasurably
surpass their former savage progenitors, and stand at the summit
of civilization, owe little or none of their superiority to direct
inheritance from the old Greeks, though they owe much to the written
works of that wonderful people.
* * * * *
[Page 142.]
The remarkable success of the English as colonists, compared to other
European nations, has been ascribed to their “daring and persistent
energy”; a result which is well illustrated by comparing the progress
of the Canadians of English and French extraction; but who can say how
the English gained their energy? There is apparently much truth in the
belief that the wonderful progress of the United States, as well as the
character of the people, is the result of natural selection; for the
more energetic, restless, and courageous men from all parts of Europe
have emigrated during the last ten or twelve generations to that great
country, and have there succeeded best.
ALL CIVILIZED NATIONS ARE THE DESCENDANTS OF BARBARIANS.
[Page 144.]
The evidence that all civilized nations are the descendants of
barbarians consists, on the one side, of clear traces of their former
low condition in still-existing customs, beliefs, language, etc.;
and, on the other side, of proofs that savages are independently able
to raise themselves a few steps in the scale of civilization, and
have actually thus risen. The evidence on the first head is extremely
curious, but can not be here given: I refer to such cases as that of
the art of enumeration, which, as Mr. Tylor clearly shows by reference
to the words still used in some places, originated in counting the
fingers, first of one hand and then of the other, and lastly of
the toes. We have traces of this in our own decimal system, and in
the Roman numerals, where, after the V, which is supposed to be an
abbreviated picture of a human hand, we pass on to VI, etc., when the
other hand no doubt was used. So again, “when we speak of threescore
and ten, we are counting by the vigesimal system, each score thus
ideally made standing for 20--for ‘one man’ as a Mexican or Carib would
put it.” According to a large and increasing school of philologists,
every language bears the marks of its slow and gradual evolution. So
it is with the art of writing, for letters are rudiments of pictorial
representations. It is hardly possible to read Mr. McLennan’s work and
not admit that almost all civilized nations still retain traces of such
rude habits as the forcible capture of wives. What ancient nation, as
the same author asks, can be named that was originally monogamous? The
primitive idea of justice, as shown by the law of battle and other
customs of which vestiges still remain, was likewise most rude. Many
existing superstitions are the remnants of former false religious
beliefs. The highest form of religion--the grand idea of God hating sin
and loving righteousness--was unknown during primeval times.
Turning to the other kind of evidence: Sir J. Lubbock has shown that
some savages have recently improved a little in some of their simpler
arts. From the extremely curious account which he gives of the weapons,
tools, and arts in use among savages in various parts of the world,
it can not be doubted that these have nearly all been independent
discoveries, excepting perhaps the art of making fire. The Australian
boomerang is a good instance of one such independent discovery. The
Tahitians when first visited had advanced in many respects beyond
the inhabitants of most of the other Polynesian islands. There are
no just grounds for the belief that the high culture of the native
Peruvians and Mexicans was derived from abroad; many native plants
were there cultivated, and a few native animals domesticated. We
should bear in mind that, judging from the small influence of most
missionaries, a wandering crew from some semi-civilized land, if washed
to the shores of America, would not have produced any marked effect
on the natives, unless they had already become somewhat advanced.
Looking to a very remote period in the history of the world, we
find, to use Sir J. Lubbock’s well-known terms, a paleolithic and
neolithic period; and no one will pretend that the art of grinding
rough flint tools was a borrowed one. In all parts of Europe, as far
east as Greece, in Palestine, India, Japan, New Zealand, and Africa,
including Egypt, flint tools have been discovered in abundance; and
of their use the existing inhabitants retain no tradition. There is
also indirect evidence of their former use by the Chinese and ancient
Jews. Hence there can hardly be a doubt that the inhabitants of these
countries, which include nearly the whole civilized world, were
once in a barbarous condition. To believe that man was aboriginally
civilized and then suffered utter degradation in so many regions is
to take a pitiably low view of human nature. It is apparently a truer
and more cheerful view that progress has been much more general than
retrogression; that man has risen, though by slow and interrupted
steps, from a lowly condition to the highest standard as yet attained
by him in knowledge, morals, and religion.
“THE ENNOBLING BELIEF IN GOD.”
[Descent of
Man, page 93.]
There is no evidence that man was aboriginally endowed with the
ennobling belief in the existence of an Omnipotent God. On the
contrary, there is ample evidence, derived not from hasty travelers,
but from men who have long resided with savages, that numerous races
have existed, and still exist, who have no idea of one or more gods,
and who have no words in their languages to express such an idea. The
question is, of course, wholly distinct from that higher one, whether
there exists a Creator and Ruler of the universe; and this has been
answered in the affirmative by some of the highest intellects that have
ever existed.
If, however, we include under the term “religion” the belief in
unseen or spiritual agencies, the case is wholly different; for this
belief seems to be universal with the less civilized races. Nor is
it difficult to comprehend how it arose. As soon as the important
faculties of the imagination--wonder and curiosity, together with some
power of reasoning--had become partially developed, man would naturally
crave to understand what was passing around him, and would have vaguely
speculated on his own existence. As Mr. McLennan has remarked: “Some
explanation of the phenomena of life a man must feign for himself; and,
to judge from the universality of it, the simplest hypothesis, and
the first to occur to men, seems to have been that natural phenomena
are ascribable to the presence in animals, plants, and things, and in
the forces of nature, of such spirits prompting to action as men are
conscious they themselves possess.” It is also probable, as Mr. Tylor
has shown, that dreams may have first given rise to the notion of
spirits; for savages do not readily distinguish between subjective and
objective impressions. When a savage dreams, the figures which appear
before him are believed to have come from a distance, and to stand over
him; or “the soul of the dreamer goes out on its travels, and comes
home with a remembrance of what it has seen.” But, until the faculties
of imagination, curiosity, reason, etc., had been fairly well developed
in the mind of man, his dreams would not have led him to believe in
spirits, any more than in the case of a dog.
The tendency in savages to imagine that natural objects and agencies
are animated by spiritual or living essences is, perhaps, illustrated
by a little fact which I once noticed. My dog, a full-grown and very
sensible animal, was lying on the lawn during a hot and still day;
but at a little distance a slight breeze occasionally moved an open
parasol, which would have been wholly disregarded by the dog had any
one stood near it. As it was, every time that the parasol slightly
moved, the dog growled fiercely and barked. He must, I think, have
reasoned to himself, in a rapid and unconscious manner, that movement,
without any apparent cause, indicated the presence of some strange
living agent, and that no stranger had a right to be on his territory.
The belief in spiritual agencies would easily pass into the belief
in the existence of one or more gods. For savages would naturally
attribute to spirits the same passions, the same love of vengeance,
or simplest form of justice, and the same affections, which they
themselves feel. The Fuegians appear to be in this respect in an
intermediate condition, for, when the surgeon on board the Beagle shot
some young ducklings as specimens, York Minster declared, in the most
solemn manner, “Oh, Mr. Bynoe, much rain, much snow, blow much”; and
this was evidently a retributive punishment for wasting human food.
So, again, he related how, when his brother killed a “wild man,” storms
long raged, much rain and snow fell. Yet we could never discover that
the Fuegians believed in what we should call a God, or practiced any
religious rites; and Jemmy Button, with justifiable pride, stoutly
maintained that there was no devil in his land. This latter assertion
is the more remarkable, as with savages the belief in bad spirits is
far more common than that in good ones.
The feeling of religious devotion is a highly complex one, consisting
of love, complete submission to an exalted and mysterious superior,
a strong sense of dependence, fear, reverence, gratitude, hope for
the future, and perhaps other elements. No being could experience
so complex an emotion until advanced in his intellectual and moral
faculties to at least a moderately high level. Nevertheless, we see
some distant approach to this state of mind in the deep love of a dog
for his master, associated with complete submission, some fear, and
perhaps other feelings. The behavior of a dog, when returning to his
master after an absence, and, as I may add, of a monkey to his beloved
keeper, is widely different from that toward their fellows. In the
latter case, the transports of joy appear to be somewhat less, and the
sense of equality is shown in every action. Professor Braubach goes so
far as to maintain that a dog looks on his master as on a god.
The same high mental faculties which first led man to believe in unseen
spiritual agencies, then in fetichism, polytheism, and ultimately
in monotheism, would infallibly lead him, as long as his reasoning
powers remained poorly developed, to various strange superstitions and
customs. Many of these are terrible to think of--such as the sacrifice
of human beings to a blood-loving god; the trial of innocent persons
by the ordeal of poison or fire; witchcraft, etc.--yet it is well
occasionally to reflect on these superstitions, for they show us what
an infinite debt of gratitude we owe to the improvement of our reason,
to science, and to our accumulated knowledge. As Sir J. Lubbock has
well observed, “It is not too much to say that the horrible dread of
unknown evil hangs like a thick cloud over savage life, and embitters
every pleasure.” These miserable and indirect consequences of our
highest faculties may be compared with the incidental and occasional
mistakes of the instincts of the lower animals.
X.
THE GENEALOGY OF MAN.
[Descent of
Man, page 146.]