Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics.
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
THE ORIGIN OF THOUGHT AND SPEECH
* * * * *
THE ORIGIN OF THOUGHT AND SPEECH
BY
M. MONCALM
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH
BY
G. S. WHITMARSH
“Language is the autobiography of the human mind.”
_The Science of Thought_ (MAX MÜLLER).
“Language is our Rubicon which no brute will dare to cross.”
_The Science of Language_ (MAX MÜLLER).
LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & CO., LTD.
DRYDEN HOUSE, 43 GERRARD STREET, W.
1905
* * * * *
With the approval of the Author’s representative, the translator has at
times followed the exact words of Max Müller rather than the literal
translation, where the latter has differed slightly from the former.
The thanks of the translator are due to friends who have kindly revised
the MS. and a portion of the proof sheets.
* * * * *
The books used by the Author in this work are:--
MAX MÜLLER.
_Introduction to the Science of Religion._
_Origin and Growth of Religion._
_Chips from a German Workshop._
_The Science of Language._
_The Science of Thought._
_Natural Religion._
_Physical Religion._
_Anthropological Religion._
_Theosophy, or Psychological Religion._
CH. DARWIN.
_Origin of Species._
_The Descent of Man._
_Expression of the Emotions._
L. NOIRÉ.
_Der Ursprung der Sprache._
_Die Lehre Kants, und der Ursprung der Vernunft._
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
CHAPTER I HYPOTHESES 14
CHAPTER II OUR ARYAN ANCESTORS 41
CHAPTER III THE PHILOSOPHY OF LANGUAGE 51
CHAPTER IV ANIMALS 57
CHAPTER V PRIMITIVE HUMANITY 63
The 121 Original Concepts 89
CHAPTER VI ANCIENT LANGUAGE 93
CHAPTER VII MYTHS 99
CHAPTER VIII BETWEEN SLEEPING AND WAKING 118
CHAPTER IX A DECISIVE STEP 140
Kant’s Teaching 149
Sensation 149
Space and Time 152
Phenomena 152
The Categories of the Understanding 153
Cause and Effect 154
Axioms 154
Metaphysics 156
CHAPTER X THE VEDIC HYMNS 173
CHAPTER XI MAN’S CONCEPTIONS OF RELIGION 214
The Sacred Writings of the Hebrews 228
The Various Names of God 231
The Genius of Languages 234
Metaphor 235
The Later Name for God amongst the Hebrews 236
On the Prophets (Nābhī) 238
The Views of Spinoza 242
Obedience 246
The Law 249
The Law in the Gospel 251
Biographical Note 252
The Ideas of Plato 255
Episodial 257
An Excursion into a Country little known 258
Anthropomorphism 261
The Sacred Codes and the Codes of Laws 262
CHAPTER XII OF WORDS 276
CHAPTER XIII OBSERVATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 286
Physics 287
Comparative Sciences 288
Concerning some Authors 291
Religion and Religions 293
Opposition 298
Abstraction, Inattention 298
Speech 300
Résumé 303
* * * * *
THE ORIGIN OF THOUGHT AND SPEECH
INTRODUCTION
When opening my eyes in the morning, and whilst still struggling with
an inclination to sleep, I review the day and what it will have in
store for me; but the pictures drawn are confused, and my will takes no
part in it.
For some time I have been haunted by the impression that the mental
faculties of the generality of men have not succeeded in throwing
off a species of torpor resembling that of a person hardly awake;
the supposition that this torpid condition prevents our minds from
attaining that degree of lucidity to which they have a right to aspire,
is perhaps a hallucination, yet possibly I may be right in thinking it.
How many confused ideas traverse my brain in one day, and how seldom
those come of which I follow the thread. We know well that injunction
so often given by parents to children, and by schoolmasters to their
pupils: “Try to concentrate your attention.” It almost seems as if that
which we require of children is beyond my powers, for I have hardly
resolved to disentangle a problem of whatever kind, when, under the
form of useless, futile, inept thoughts, obstacles heap themselves
across my path. I conclude from this that a fatal somnolence paralyses
my faculties.
When a person has to be awakened who is disinclined to be disturbed,
he is violently shaken. What movement would suffice to energise a
man whose mental powers were drowsy? I do not see anything from the
outside; and a personal effort could not be looked for, from an
enervated will.
And yet I am possessed by the desire to penetrate the mystery of my
existence; I ask myself what I am, and why I am on this earth; from the
moment that I put this question to myself I feel that the awakening may
be possible for me. I know two classes of men who never ask it; first
those who do not see that there is any problem to solve; and secondly
those who are content with infantine and superficial teaching; or more
or less elaborate and learned, but coming from one who appears to
himself to be the depository of a collection of supernaturally inspired
truths. I own that I do not belong to the first of these divisions,
since I shall have no rest as long as I am ignorant of what passes in
me and around me; neither do I belong to the second of these classes,
since those who compose it are content to believe; but faith is not
knowledge, and I am anxious to comprehend what has been discovered,
known, and established by evidence. But how shall I submit to this
labour of research, when the habitual condition of my thoughts is to
wander at will amongst my impressions, and when I am so incurably
absent-minded?
We live in an atmosphere of many and varied ideas; ideas true and
false, good and bad; they pulsate in the air we breathe; they are like
the winged antheral seeds which are lifted up by the slightest breeze
of autumn and carried afar; they are little heeded; but should it
happen that these seeds attached themselves to our garments we should
notice how strikingly the one form varied from the other.
Amongst those ideas which wander at large is this aphorism--that we
are ignorant of that of which we know not the commencement, or in
other words of that which we do not examine from the practical point
of view; he who wishes to learn how something is made, whatever it may
be, must know how to begin it. This truth has so ancient a date that
we cannot conceive of a time when it was absent from the mind of man;
only it had the common lot of all truths with which we are so familiar
that apparently there is nothing to learn from them, and this aphorism
appears at first sight to be the ramblings which we hear but to which
we do not listen.
To me it is of value, as it strengthens my conviction that the mist
which obscures my vision will not be dissipated until I have traced
certain problems to their source; I know by experience that few
phenomena are easy of explanation when their appearances only are
examined at any given moment; and close questioning fails to elicit
light, whilst ignorance prevails concerning their beginning.
How does it happen that in spite of such unfavourable circumstances,
often with no clear purpose, and with eyes half shut, humanity can
advance? For the progress is indubitable. The public conscience has
developed; and its actions make themselves felt; civilised nations
have become more humane; they understand better than they did formerly
that peace is more profitable than war; certain social problems are
being seriously discussed, and some are on the point of solution. In
the physical sciences, as well as in mechanical arts, progress is most
marked. But I see that though imagination, observation, and a talent
for invention have had much to do with this progress, the capacity of
imitation has also been a powerful factor. When William Herschel gave
up music for astronomy, he perfected the optical instruments which
were in use at that time, and manufactured some excellent telescopes
at comparatively moderate prices, with the result that his fellow
astronomers and their successors were able to devote themselves to the
study of the heavens with greater ease and readiness; and the discovery
of Uranus was soon followed by that of a large number of celestial
bodies. Again, at one of the National Exhibitions of our time, there
was shown to all comers the model of a recently invented apparatus
for the conveyance of the wounded on battlefields; since which, each
country now produces its own design with various improvements, and the
victims of the barbarism, still lingering in war, were benefited by
these modern appliances, due entirely to the art of imitation.
In short, progress exists, but not all along the line. As thought
travels slowly in its own domain, so mental science is behindhand.
A true idea is not mechanically reproduced, it must be tended for
it to bear fruit, but what tendance would avail, if it is only with
difficulty that we discriminate between what we know already, and what
we do not yet know, for this distinction must accompany conscious
progress.
Everything around us tends to keep us in this penumbra, which is
so favourable to inertia, ignorance, sleep. Certain groups of
philosophical ideas become condensed and systematised; in some systems
there are one or two great thoughts only. This suffices--these systems
remain, germinate and direct contemporaneous generations as well as
those of the future. It may also happen that these same ideas invade
brains little prepared to receive them, and thus deviate from their
course, err as they advance, and end by becoming so travestied that
it is no longer possible to know what they were at their origin--a
swerving movement has taken place, which causes suffering to
contemporaries, and, still more, to those who come after. Thus the bulk
increases, the bulk of truth and the bulk of error; and this fatal
expansion of the true and the false, intertwined the one with the
other, pursues its encroaching and troublous way.
This confusion is something impersonal; it is an opaque body which
interposes itself between the truth and ourselves, and prevents us
from contemplating it; but the confusion may also arise directly from
those whose mission it is to guide us. I open a book written by some
grave thinker who, I imagine, knows his subject thoroughly, and I
begin to read in all confidence; at first I think I understand him;
then I am stopped by a word, and I wonder what meaning the author has
attached to it; a little further I come upon the same word, which now
seems invested with another signification; this disconcerts me, and
I close the book. I take another, but the same disagreeable surprise
awaits me, and I find everywhere terms whose meaning varies to suit the
convenience of the author; and what we are to understand by these words
is nowhere explained. These defects arise probably from the fact that
certain philosophers, taking their confused opinions for new ideas,
seek for words in which to express them, and not finding them in their
vocabulary, they coin them, using terms to which no precise meaning is
attached; which terms remain more or less enigmatical to the authors
themselves, and, consequently, unintelligible to the readers; in this
way does the confusion of ideas arise and is propagated. A philosopher,
I think it was Haman, made the following very true and very alarming
statement: “Language is not only the basis of our power of thought, but
also the point from which our misunderstandings and errors spring”; and
Hobbes also says: “It is obvious that truth and falsehood dwell only
with those living creatures who have the use of speech.”
But all that I have just said indicates merely a superficial portion
of my passing impressions; in going below the surface I find in the
past other causes for our present perturbation of mind. For centuries
we have frequented schools in order to learn to distinguish truth
from error, yet it is always a mixture of truth and error that we
are taught. What result had we attained on the eve of the twentieth
century? We are still asking ourselves whether science does or does not
harmonise with religion. After that we cannot but give ourselves up to
the deepest despondency, we cannot but fold our arms in despair and
question whether we shall ever see things clearly.
Amongst our ancestors there were sometimes found men of great
resolution who, in order to punish themselves for cowardice and luxury,
administered discipline to themselves; the idea is not so extravagant
as it appears to some people. A few good strokes of the whip might
result in reviving or strengthening the will, and in forcing it to
resist the moral supineness which is so apt to increase; but physical
discipline is no longer in use amongst us, and in my own case I have
substituted an illustration of which I try never to lose sight. I
picture to myself an ideal potter, whose whole ambition would be to
make good vessels, and, having succeeded in making some of great
solidity, he would choose out those of the finest shape for the market.
He attains success, and his thoughts being occupied with his pottery
only, at last he makes vases of absolute perfection. With what feelings
of envy I contemplate this creature of my imagination, who is to serve
as my model, and yet whom the want of concentration of thought prevents
me from imitating.
It would have been perhaps prudent on my part to follow the example
of this workman, and to accustom myself to reflect on subjects less
immeasurably above me than those which have such a powerful attraction
for me; but I yield to the impulse--once given. I often lose myself
when pondering on the world where destiny has placed me; and I ask
myself--How did life first appear on the earth? Was there nothing but
a cellule from whence all that fills space came? Was there one cellule
for the vegetables and another for the animals? If man did not spring
from the cradle of all things that live and grow on the surface of
the globe, was he an individual of his own species at the beginning,
or two individuals, or many? After what fashion did man speak at his
first appearance? What were his thoughts? “How can it be explained,” I
asked myself again, “that of all the members of the animal kingdom, one
only should have marvelled at and pondered on his position with regard
to the universe and himself? That one only should have manifested
the desire to understand his role in life, whilst all the creatures
that surrounded him, lived contentedly in blissful ignorance? It
would be impossible to conceive of a horse, an elephant, or a mammoth
disquieting itself concerning its origin and the end of its being; why
has man only sought a solution of these problems?” The learned scholars
who occupy themselves with these questions are far from agreeing
unanimously concerning them; thus I--I, who am only one link in the
interminable chain of units which composes humanity, past, present and
future; I, in my own individuality must live and die in my ignorance.
I revolt against this prospect, which I yet recognise as inevitable;
I refuse to acknowledge myself beaten, and I feel myself irresistibly
driven to seek for more knowledge; then feeling unable to supply the
lack, I cease to be anxious, and fall asleep again.
Sometimes when led to investigate the inner tribunal, conscience, I
contemplate a phenomenon purely intellectual and moral, which the
uproar raised by the conflict of so many heterogeneous ideas cannot
make me forget, although it does not intrude itself upon me with
violence; on the contrary, it waits with an unparalleled patience and
discretion at my door. It is the phenomenon named religion.
We read in the Bible that Moses, having noticed a burning bush that
yet was not consumed, went up to it, the more closely to investigate
this marvel. For many people religion has borne the same aspect that
the burning bush did for Moses, and those, like Moses, have approached
it in the endeavour to discover what it could be. Religion has always
compelled attention, its metaphysical side has been described in
voluminous theological and philosophical treatises; historians on their
side have made many researches concerning the forms in which it has
clothed itself on earth during a long succession of centuries, and
amongst many peoples; it is even said there are learned men who have
studied all the Bibles and catechisms; and it is added that few amongst
them know what religion really is. It does not on that account play
a less important part in our existence; it is from religion that all
those acts of devotion and charity spring, to which millions of human
creatures give themselves. There are few who ask themselves whence
comes this breath which inspires them so fully, and since when has its
influence extended itself amongst us; to be nourished with its fruits
sufficed. Such is the disposition of soul of the majority of those
for whom religion is more than a name--whatsoever it be--pronounced
in an unknown tongue. Would it not be natural to desire to make its
acquaintance more closely? Apparently not; we accept it as something
known by intuition, without concerning ourselves with its aspect.
This strange fact I have also noticed. When studying history very
attentively, and with an attitude of mind free from all prejudice,
it is possible to fix the exact period at which errors, more or less
generally acknowledged as such, have first crept into the world; but I
have vainly sought in history for the corresponding moment when truths
first made their appearance; truths, which have been accepted, if only
by a few isolated individuals, or by certain groups of individuals, of
whatever race, or of whatever period of the life of humanity they might
be. But as it is acknowledged that amongst the errors which trouble
us, we possess some truths, it is evident that they have manifested
themselves; but when and how? At this I do not arrive.
This silence of history indicates, I think, that the truths of which
we seek the commencement have been revealed to man in prehistoric
days. I do not feel that I know positively concerning the first human
beings who appeared on the earth; I picture them like soft wax ready to
receive a definite form from the hand which created them. These first
comers who knew nothing, never having had any training, and possessing
only their five senses to aid them in arriving at knowledge, were
infinitely better placed than I am to embrace truth, since I should
have to disentangle myself from a vast mass of ideas which disfigure
the natural simplicity of my soul; I should have to forget, even the
truths which I believed myself to possess, and to transform myself
into white plastic blank wax, with no impress whatsoever, and to wait
until my Creator traced the image He wished; this is now not possible.
I should not be now here if I could have been contemporaneous with my
ancestors, and I had been permitted to follow in the steps of their
pilgrimage, this would have pleased me well.
I perceive my friends are uneasy--“Take care,” they say, “an _Idée
fixe_ is dangerous.”
But is it quite certain that an _Idée fixe_ is always harmful?
Have they never seen a man wandering in a forest without any fixed
determination to quit it? Is it credible that our first parents had no
fixed idea of discovering the import towards themselves, of the vast
world in which they had been placed, knowing nothing of the reason
of their position? Equally ignorant of the reason why the sun, the
moon, fire, hurricanes, storms, thunder, rivers, mountains existed,
always above and around them. The whole of nature itself required to
be interrogated. In what way could this settled determination have
harmed them? It is true that they are all dead, but determination did
not kill them. And their _Idée fixe_ must have been very tenacious and
powerful for this thirst for knowledge to have descended with their
blood into our own veins; their wish to gain information is reproduced
in us; this is the legacy that our fathers have left us, and the
singular feature of the legacy is that unlike others, of which the
parts are subdivided and diminished, this in its entirety has passed
down to each of the milliards and milliards of inheritors.
Must we then feel that we are destined to ask perpetually, and to
receive no answer? That need not be. Many things that our ancestors
could not fathom are clear to us; what was unknown to them is known
to us. That which prevents us from following up this line of progress
through these phases is that each reply brings forth anew fresh
questions, and thus it will be to the end--if the end should ever
arrive. This last question we do not put to ourselves, which is an
indication that we are not careful to arrive at the answer. When I
compare the present state of our knowledge, and of our condition of
mind, to which I have given the epithets of torpor and inertia--and
they are rightly given--to that which held sway in the dark ages when
the earth rested on an elephant, the elephant on a tortoise, and the
tortoise swam in the void, I must acknowledge that we now see things
more truly.
But to start from the point of the sum of our acquired knowledge
in this march of progress would be fatal to us; the ground we have
won will only retain its solidity in proportion as we keep in sight
the path we have trodden, with all its encountered and vanquished
obstacles, and that will only be by pursuing the same path again in
company with our ancestors.
Here my friends interpose--“That would be a vain task, you cannot
picture humanity in its infancy, that is an impossibility.”
Doubtless, and since I am too practical to attempt the impossible,
abstaining from every superhuman effort, and submitting my imagination
to a strict discipline, I will again consult history, but not history
as I know it, nor that history which is written in our days, polished,
cautious, honestly critical, that which notes the old traces of
humanity when they occur on the route mixed with events, and which
treats the eternal truths as though they had no existence, and,
truly, they do not belong to its dominion. I would study the other
history, which at first was related, not written, because speech came
before writing. I should try to collect information from the ancient
literatures of the people concerning the manner in which our ancestors
depicted divinity to themselves, especially with regard to dealings
with mortals at the time when visits between the celestial inhabitants
and those on earth were common.... We possess the Old Testament of the
Hebrews, the sacred books of the Hindoos, and the mythology of the
Aryan family; the mine is rich, so rich that I should have time to die
a thousand times before I should have finished the task of searching in
this mixed medley of historical remains, fantastic recitals, sublime
thoughts, and flagrant falsehoods. Happily this work of digging in the
past in quest of an idea is not the work of one man nor of one epoch,
but that of many men and many epochs, and it never ceases.
Moreover, a short time ago no one imagined that documents very much
more ancient than those I have just named, would have been discovered
in hitherto unexplored regions of the physical and mental world. Two
enterprising men, Darwin and Max Müller, visited and studied them.
Darwin sought to explain what the origin of organic beings might have
been, and in what way they passed through a series of evolutions, from
one form to another of great dissimilarity. He who speaks of evolution
implies researches into the beginnings of things; this was exactly what
I needed. All the world knows Darwin’s name, even those who abstain
from dealing with scientific problems; he has some ardent admirers who
are not careful to define very accurately what it is they admire in
him, and some furious adversaries, who, judging mainly by hearsay, have
formed a conception of him which is either very superficial or very
false.
The development of human reason has been one of the objects of Max
Müller’s researches. This great thinker, who is at the same time the
first philologist of our time, has sought in the science of Language
for the origin of thinking man. Very few amongst the men of the world,
who are nothing more than men of the world, know what the name of Max
Müller represents, even the existence of a science of Language is
unknown to them.
Even if Darwin and Max Müller have not been absolutely the first to
strive to go back, the one to the origin of the organic world, the
other to the dawn of human speech, no others have yet walked in this
darkness so courageously and so perseveringly as these two men.
Not only have the journeys of exploration been much multiplied of
late, but a principle of action has been extracted from beneath the
scaffolding used in the building up of new theories; which is, “If you
have an idea, and you wish to see whither it may lead, take it from its
first commencement, and advance confidently.” This is what I am about
to do.
I am undertaking a long journey; I carry with me but few plans; turning
my eyes away from whatever might attract my curiosity either on the
right hand or the left, I shall still more carefully guard myself
from being dazzled by the mirages which I am told are frequent in
those countries; or frightened by the phantoms which it is possible
I may meet on the road. I shall always remind myself that one hour
of feebleness, indecision, hesitation might cause me to lose my
equilibrium, and that it would only require one moment of dizziness to
cause my retrogression to the elephant and the tortoise. God forbid! It
is to the opposite pole to which I shall direct myself; if truth exist,
reason is here to find it.
CHAPTER I HYPOTHESES
Thinkers of all times have asked themselves the question whence does
this world come on which we live. Curious to know whether the universe
was self-made, or was the work of a great primal ancestor, or personal
Creator; philosophers who considered the matter in its entirety have
left us two hypotheses.
“According to one, chaos reigned at the beginning, or in other words,
the possibility of everything; and from the midst of this chaos certain
realities were evolved,”[1] from an inherent aptitude for development;
this aptitude has been named in many ways, such as “natural selection,”
“survival of the fittest.” The Greek sages were already acquainted
with the thought implied in these terms. Empedocles said that the
fittest would always preponderate, since conservation is an integral
part of their nature; whilst what is unfit, or not in accord with
the surroundings, must disappear. But the partisans of this theory
find themselves confronted by a serious difficulty: if a blind force
has produced the universe, whence comes the order which reigns in
nature? It is freely acknowledged, even by those with small powers of
observation, that the inhabitants of the terrestrial globe are divided
into animal and vegetable, which are again subdivided into distinct
classes, separated by distinct lines of demarcation. If we admitted
that the vegetable and animal kingdoms were not at first so entirely
separated as they are at present, there would always remain a question
awaiting reply: How is it to be accounted for, that two families
issuing from the same source, become so separated, and have remained
distinct ever since?
Amongst the propagators of the second hypothesis, some admit the
existence of a primordial germ possessing the power of infinite
production; others believe in a Personal Creator who formed all things,
whether by the means of pre-existent material or from nothing. In
accepting this theory of a reasonable Being we must at once lay aside
that of pure chance, since to Him is attributed the permanence of the
separation described above, this separation or division is of such a
nature as to induce the impression that thus it is by premeditation
and co-ordination. Certain philosophers putting aside the question
of the origin of the organic world in its entirety, have restricted
their field of investigation, and taken it in detail. Thus: What is
the origin of man? How is it that man thinks and speaks? What is
human thought and human speech? Is it man’s nature that compels him
to speak, or has language been from the first a matter of convention?
The Greeks whilst pursuing their researches amongst the lofty regions
of metaphysics expressed some very subtle theories on this subject,
coupled with vast systems which comprehended the whole of humanity.
By these they weighed the words spoken, their derivation, the ideas
which these words represented, and the primitive source of the
various phenomena exhibited by man, for the ancients recognised man’s
indivisibility.
Heraclitus considered that each object combines in itself a thought
and its expression, emanating from the object, and that man is the
recipient only; that he breathes a spiritual atmosphere; thus it is
that every name necessarily designates the object it denotes.
Plato said that all the objects of the external world have in them
something which constitutes their essence, and that this essence is
capable of being transmitted from objects themselves into the human
mind; that ideas constitute the essence of objects, and that words are
therefore necessarily related to the constituent parts of the objects,
and their impression on the human understanding.
Epicurus said that human language is the result of the pressure
exercised by the external world on the sensitive essential matter in
man, and that as soon as man sustains this pressure he emits words
spontaneously; the most ancient words used seem to have been expressive
sounds, and with the human race it was as natural for them to talk as
to groan, to cough, or to sneeze.
Thus the Ancients did not distinguish speech from conception.
The problem of the origin of speech, treated in antiquity with as
much depth as calmness, profoundly agitated the minds in the Middle
Ages, and the theologians naturally introduced this variant in their
exposition of the subject: Has language a divine or human origin?
The Christian philosopher replies: “The intellect of God created the
world, and the human soul, made in the likeness of the mind of God,
has in itself the source of all knowledge: thought and language are
of divine origin; left to himself, with only the help of his own
powers, man would never have found a means of expressing his thoughts.”
Such was the belief of the greatest thinkers of the Middle Ages; and
they accepted the fact of a primordial language which men must have
received directly from the Creator; this opinion was perpetuated until
the most recent times. But from the earliest Christian centuries
there were certain philosophers such as Gregory of Nyssa, who, whilst
acknowledging the existence of a primitive universal language,
considered that it redounded more to the glory of the Almighty Creator
to endow man simply with the power of speech, and they deny that this
language with its grammar and orthography was divinely revealed.
The materials for the study of these questions are lacking. The
only document in our possession on the origin of mankind--the Old
Testament--was carefully consulted; there we read that God created
man after His image, that He made him of the dust of the earth, that
He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, so that man became
a living creature. The Bible narrative is one of simple facts, and it
was necessary to look upon them as so many facts, for any effort to
pierce beneath the surface of these mysterious words was like groping
in the dark. Another recital was also given in Genesis. God brought
all the animals of the earth, and the birds of the air to Adam that he
might name them, and whatsoever Adam called every living thing that
was the name of it. This seemed difficult to interpret, and renewed
the questions under other forms. Did man at the beginning resemble a
newly born babe who cries but cannot speak? In this case how did he
begin to express his thoughts? If man was created an adult, but did not
receive a complete language from heaven, how did he acquire the faculty
of speech, this faculty which we know to be the distinguishing mark of
humanity, and which is missing in other creatures?
The eighteenth century decided that this way of treating a scientific
question left much to be desired; it resulted in a _cul de sac_, and a
fresh beginning had to be made. Some philosophers, thinking to simplify
matters, affirmed that primitive man, tired of wandering through woods
like other animals, decided to group themselves into companies; the
members of this society, feeling the necessity of making themselves
mutually understood, expressed themselves at first by the aid of
signs and gestures, then by sounds peculiar to the things denoted,
afterwards, in one way or another, actual words were pronounced.
This reasoning was used in the eighteenth century, and not knowing
where to find better, those who employed it felt satisfied with their
perspicacity; language which was formerly considered as a gift direct
from God, became a physiological endowment, a conventional art; this
century had an intense horror of the supernatural, so that it readily
accepted any system in which God did not appear.
The lack of reflection shown in the building up of these hypotheses
concerning the commencement of humanity has been severely criticised,
and that they were very superficial must be conceded. It is equally
clear that all these tentative efforts had this in common, that they
were the results of the influence on immature minds of the period, of
the necessity of explaining the awakening of human reason in a rational
manner.
The search was continued. At last the nineteenth century considered
that a solution had been found. Certain ideas which had received
attention during divers periods were now collected, sorted, re-examined
more closely, and classified, and from these labours there arose the
two theories of interjection and imitation. According to the first,
language consists of sounds drawn involuntarily from man by his
emotions and feelings; by degrees man became accustomed to reproduce
similar exclamations when wishing to express the same feelings, and
these exclamations would serve as the roots of words; this is the
interjectional theory. The imitative or onomatopœic proceeds from
another source; when man was confronted by all the objects of the
exterior world he began to imitate the sounds emitted, such as the
cries of various animals, the whistling of the wind, the fall of a
stone; the many sounds which fill the air were reproduced by the human
voice and formed the basis for future words. Objections to both of
these theories are not lacking. If emotions such as joy, pain, anger,
love, disgust--or if physical sensations such as result from the
sting of a bee or from a blow of the fist, could furnish the roots
of a language, and if it were the same with the imitation of noises
produced by nature, the sounds of the words should retain a definite
impress of these emotions and feelings, and should reproduce, if only
approximately, these various noises. Even if we admit that a small
number of primitive men set themselves to imitate the murmur of the
stream, the rolling of the thunder, the barking of a dog, the groans
of the wounded, the only result would have been infinite variations
of clamour quite impossible to distinguish or to understand. Strictly
speaking, the prolonged sound of “_bée_” and “_mou_” might awaken the
conception of a goat and cow in the mind; but in order to convey the
idea of a herd of oxen it would be necessary to avoid equally the sound
of “_bée_” and “_mou_,” as belonging exclusively to the two special
animals. The warbling notes of birds have always attracted attention,
and essays have been made to reproduce them by imitative harmony,
but the various peoples have given various interpretations,[2] and
in the generality of cases there is no resemblance between the names
of animals and their cries.[3] After examining the testimony of the
name “cuckoo” (no doubt convincing taken by itself), which is the
prominent argument brought forward by the advocates of the imitative
theory called by Max Müller the bow-wow theory, we are not able to
advance further in that direction. Darwin in his book, _The Descent
of Man_, promulgates the idea that language may have originated from
interjections and imitations, but elsewhere in the _Expressions of
the Emotions_ he hastens to add with his accustomed frankness: “But
the whole subject of the differences of the sounds produced under
different states of the mind is so obscure that I have succeeded in
throwing hardly any light on it; and the remarks which I have made have
but little significance.”[4]
Scholars and literary men have taxed the resources of all the treasures
of their imagination in endeavouring to picture the beginnings of
language; in the present day many efforts are made by learned men to
discover, from nurses surrounded by their charges, how the first words
were reproduced by primitive man. It would be as useful to study the
nature of primitive rocks amongst a mass of bricks and mortar, since
the chasm is wide between the thoughts which our little ones have when
they first begin to speak and those which primitive man had in trying
to name his surroundings. We who speak because we know point out father
or mother to a little child, naming them at the same time--“this is
mother,” “this is father;” by degrees attributes become connected in
the child’s mind with these names; such as mother’s hair, or her dress;
or father’s beard, his pin; and whilst naming them we again point them
out; and when the child pronounces these words in its own fashion, that
is incorrectly, is this defect in pronunciation to be a sign-post to
us--pointing out the direction to be followed in judging of primitive
language? At a later period the child distinguishes between the
mother’s smile and the father’s voice; later still its mind comprehends
all the moral and physical attributes covered by these two terms; and
thus with all other objects--“here is the cow,” and “here is the piece
of sugar,” which so soon become familiar to the child, with their
cognate words, milk and sweetness. Our children thus learn to speak
under very different conditions from those in which our first ancestors
found themselves, when with no previous experience they tried to put
forth their first words.
Conjectures increased and developed into systems, which, however,
contained nothing beyond germs of fresh conjectures and fresh systems,
of which none rested on a reasonable basis.
At the beginning of the eighteenth century it was quite natural that
there should be uncertainty as to the path to be followed in seeking
the beginning of human speech. Was it necessary to trace all the known
languages to their source? Would not the same feeling of confusion
arise when attacking all the dialects spoken on the surface of the
earth as oppressed those who were at the base of the Tower of Babel? An
idea which was universally adopted rather tended to check the progress
of this study: it sprang from the theory that humanity had received the
gift of speech from the Creator; and as the Jewish people alone were
thought to be the recipients of a supernatural revelation, it followed
that Hebrew must be the earliest language, and consequently that all
existing languages were derived from the Hebrew. It is hardly possible
to conceive the number of works put forth by the learned to remove
any doubt with regard to this strange affiliation; the difficulty was
to support or prove the supposition that Hebrew had given birth to
Greek, Latin, and the rest; this Biblical language was tortured and
twisted about in the endeavour to prove the descent of the others from
it, but no satisfactory result was obtained. It was by the advice of
Leibniz that as many facts as possible were collected concerning the
modern languages then in use. He asked for the assistance of monarchs,
European princes, ambassadors, missionaries, and travellers. It was
during these investigations that the attention of certain philologists
was directed to Sanscrit, a language which had been dead 300 years
before the Christian era, and about which the learned in Europe had
troubled themselves very little.
At the time of Plato and Aristotle a vague notion was current in
Greece that India, as well as Egypt, was the birthplace of matchless
learning, only it was not known in what this learning consisted, and
even the name of the Vedas (the most ancient collection of sacred
writings of the Hindoos) was unknown to the philosophers. The first
Christian writers who mentioned the religions of India, and who knew
up to a certain point how to distinguish Brahminism from Buddhism,
never quoted the Vedas; this name is first used by some Chinese
converts to Buddhism, at the beginning of the Christian era, who had
undertaken a pilgrimage to India, considered by them as a holy land.
In the sixteenth century Francis Xavier went there as a missionary,
but without knowing Sanscrit; in the seventeenth century Roberto
de Nobili, another missionary, acquired the language, and caused a
compilation to be made of Hindoo and Christian doctrines. It was not
well done; the French translation was sent to Voltaire, who praised it
and spoke of it as the most precious gift for which the West had ever
been indebted to the East. The Père Calmette, who had heard of the
importance of the Vedas, was the first European to obtain authentic
fragments, but these attracted little attention in Europe. In the early
part of the nineteenth century some members of the Asiatic Society
residing in Calcutta discovered a collection of Sanscrit MSS., amongst
them some portions of the laws of Manu, two epic poems, the Râmayana
and the Mahâbhârata, some philosophical treatises, works on astronomy
and medicine, plays and fables. These works possessed great interest
for those scholars who were occupied with the study of humanity,
such as Herder, Schlegel, Goethe, and Humboldt. For the most part
the preconceived ideas with which these literary men received them
tended to diminish the benefit to be derived from them to a great
extent, as they endeavoured--consistently with the spirit of the
time--to establish the identity of thought running through the sacred
literature of the Hindoos and the Bible. They also sought to point out
the supposed connection between the historical recitals of the Old
Testament, the Indian legends, and the Greek and Latin mythologies.
Certain MSS. containing passages from the sacred code of the Hindoos
having been translated by Anquetil Duperron, Schopenhauer drew from it
the foundations of his own philosophical belief; nothing less than the
genius of this German scholar would have sufficed for the presentation
of the sublime truths which the original contained, by means of this
very defective translation. One of the first historiographers of
Buddhism was the Abbé Barthelemy Saint-Hilaire, but yet his labours
have not served to raise the veil hiding the true meaning of the
Brahman writings, for without the knowledge of the early Sanscrit, it
was not possible to seize the inner meaning of a literature which the
sages of India had required fifteen centuries to complete. Thus it was
that Europe only knew the more accessible portions, and those better
calculated to strike the imagination, but not necessarily the most
important. “Much had been said and written about Buddhism, enough to
show the Roman Catholic clergy that the Lamas of Thibet had anticipated
them in the use of auricular confession, the rosary, and the tonsure;
and to disconcert philosophers by showing them that they were outdone
in positivism and nihilism by the inmates of Chinese monasteries.”[5]
The strangeness of this religion attracted public attention, which
was especially directed towards certain blemishes, which had crept
into it during a decadent period, and tarnished its original purity,
and although learned men continued to devote themselves to a study
more and more deeply penetrated with the Sanscrit language, they
were yet so unprepared for the results which must inevitably follow
this study, that certain German universities became the scenes of
veritable scandals, when some of the learned declared that they had
found a community of origin between the people of Athens, of Rome,
and of India, and the stupefaction of the philologists knew no bounds
when, in 1833, Bopp’s work appeared, _The Comparative Grammar of
the Greek, Latin, Gothic, Sanscrit, Zend, Lithuanian, Slavonic, and
German Languages_, whilst the effect on the younger students was quite
bewildering.
But that which created the greatest furore in all Europe was the
promulgation of the scientific discoveries of Eugène Burnouf, Professor
of Oriental Languages in the Collège de France. Long centuries had
passed during which no original Sanscrit document had come to light,
and now in the short space of ten years three complete collections
of Oriental literature were known, the sacred books of the Brahmans,
of the Buddhists, and of the Magians. “The critical examination and
restitution of the Zend texts, the outlines of a Zend grammar, the
translation and philological anatomy of considerable portions of
the Zoroastrian writings were the work of the learned young French
scholar.”[6]
A few proper names and certain titles were up to this time all that
could be deciphered of the cuneiform inscriptions on the walls of
Persian palaces. Classical or oriental scholars had hitherto only
seen in them a quaint conglomeration of nails, wedges, or arrows; but
when at last the meaning was disentangled, it suddenly flashed upon
the discoverers that there was a close relationship between languages
hitherto held to be quite distinct. Facts, at first only suspected, now
received full confirmation; those previously unknown were discovered
and claimed, if only provisionally, in the name of Science. Historians
and philologists pressed eagerly into this new path. In looking back
they could see that the human family was divided into three distinct
groups, the Semetic family, the Aryan family--sometimes called the
Indo-Germanic--and the Turanian class, the northern division of which
has the name Ural-Altaic given to it occasionally. I use the word
_class_ advisedly, as the characteristic traits hardly merit the rank
of family. They also discovered that human speech had equally marked
divisions, making three groups or families, corresponding to the three
great human races. The Semetic family produced the Hebrew of the Old
Testament, the Arabic of the Koran, and the ancient language graven on
the monuments of Phœnicia and Carthage, of Babylon and Assyria; the
Greek and Latin, Persian and Sanscrit, the Germanic languages, Celtic
and Slavonic, all belong to the Aryan family; from the Ural-Altaic
group come the Tungusic, Mongolic, Turkic, Samoyedic and Finnic; there
still remains the Chinese language, which is monosyllabic and stands by
itself, the only remnant of the earliest formation of human speech.
These discoveries caused a complete change in the methods adopted
by philologists; at the present time the ancient systems of the
classification of tongues are entirely abandoned. The comparative
philologist ignores altogether geographical locality, the varying
ages of languages, and their classical or illiterate character.
Languages are now classified genealogically, according to their real
relationship; and Hebrew, coming down from its pedestal, took its
natural place amongst the languages of the Semetic family.[7]
* * * * *
I revert here for a moment to the past in order to quote a page from
Plato, which shows us the small esteem in which the purely speculative
method, in the treatment of philosophy, was held by one of the
profoundest minds of antiquity:--
“Dost thou see that very tall plane-tree?” said Phædros to Socrates.
“Certainly, I do.”
“Tell me, Socrates, is it not from the foot of this plane-tree that
they say Boreas carried away Oreithyia from the Ilissos?”
“So they say.”
“But tell me, O Socrates, dost thou believe this mythe to be true?”
“Well, if I did not believe it, like the wise people, I should not
be so very far wrong; and I might set up an ingenious theory and say
that a gust of Boreas, the north wind, carried her down from the rocks
in the neighbourhood, and that having died in this manner, she was
reported to have been carried off by Boreas from thence. As for myself,
Phædros, I think these explanations, on the whole, very pleasant; a man
is, after all, not much to be envied, if it were only for this, that
when he has set right this one fable, he is bound to do the same for
a second, then a third, and thus much time is lost. I, at least, have
no leisure to spare for these things, and the reason, my friend, is
this, that I cannot yet, according to the Delphic line, know myself;
and it seems to me ridiculous that a man who does not yet know this,
should trouble himself about what does not concern him. Therefore I
leave these things alone, and, believing what other people believe
about them, I meditate, as I said just now, not on them, but on
myself--whether I be a monster more complicated and more savage than
Typhon, or a tamer and simpler creature, enjoying by nature a blessed
and modest lot.”[8]
“Thus, to the mind of Socrates, man was pre-eminently the individual
... he is ever seeking to solve the mystery of human nature by brooding
over his own mind, by watching the secret workings of the soul, by
analysing the organs of knowledge, and by trying to determine its
proper limits; and thus the last result of his philosophy was that he
knew but one thing, and this was, that he knew nothing.”[9]
More than 2300 years have elapsed since the intercourse between
Socrates and his disciple took place. But the problems which we of the
twentieth century have not yet succeeded in solving, have so entirely
absorbed our attention, that it seldom occurs to us to measure the
distance which separates us from the commencement of philosophical
studies. Although the scientific equipment of our forefathers occupies
a small portion of our thoughts in our leisure moments, we yet
discover--in comparison with ourselves--how very indigent they were.
This earth was unintelligible to the Greeks, they looked upon it as a
solitary being, without a peer in the whole universe; to us it is a
planet; one of many, all governed by the same laws, all moving round
the same centre. It is the same with man who also remained a riddle to
the ancients. An intelligent study of the world’s history, which they
knew but imperfectly, has enriched our language with a word which never
passed the lips of Socrates, Plato or Aristotle--humanity. Where the
Greeks saw barbarians, that is, human beings other than themselves--we
see brethren; those whom they called heroes and demi-gods are our
ancestors; those who appeared to them strangers, united by no ties,
are to us one family in work and suffering, divided by language and
severed by national enmity, but pressing forward step by step almost
unconsciously towards the fulfilment of that inscrutable purpose for
which the world was created. As we have ceased to see in nature the
working of demons or the manifestation of an evil principle, so we
deny in history an atomistic conglomerate of chances, or the despotic
rule of a mute fate; we turn over the leaves of the past seeking for a
hidden train of thought in the actions of the human race; we understand
that every effect has its cause; that connecting links run through
the moral world, as well as the physical world; that there is nothing
irrational in either history or nature, and we believe that the human
mind is called upon to discover in both the manifestations of a Divine
Power, the source of our existence.[10]
This result, however, we could not have attained without first
recognising the fact that man is no isolated being, complete in
himself; that if he is to be effectively studied he cannot be
disassociated from his family, all the members of which are governed by
the same laws, all move round the same centre, and all receive their
light from the same focal point. He is one of a class, of one genus
or kind, whom it would be impossible to estimate correctly, if we set
aside his relations to his fellows.
“To understand man,” an illustrious naturalist has said recently, “it
is not sufficient _not_ to separate him from those whom he resembles in
every point; it is quite as necessary to study him in connection with
those closely related to him, the inferior animals.”
Hitherto I have not mentioned a hypothesis which has been promulgated
in our days on the origin of man, which would have been considered
the most remarkable this century had seen, had it not appeared
simultaneously with another treatment of a like subject equally
noticeable for its profundity in another direction.
During a voyage which he made in South America, Darwin had been struck
by the very close affinity which existed between the living and the
fossil species of this continent; this link between the past and
present appeared to him to throw considerable light on the obscurity
which enveloped the question of the origin of species. The degree in
which organs were capable of modification was especially to be taken
into account; the study of the variation of animals and plants under
domestication led Darwin to the path he followed; the uninterrupted
reproduction of characteristics in the structure of organic beings,
intensified rather than attenuated by a succession of modifications,
caused him to see in all living creatures, not independent entities,
the one apart from the other, but descendants from common ancestors now
extinct.
Evolution, like many another theory, may be dangerous if not thoroughly
grasped, and if it lead to a denial of the permanence of the well
marked lines of demarcation in nature. Evolution, according to Darwin,
starts from beginnings which are quite distinct; and leads on to
well defined ends; thus Darwin does not acknowledge only one common
progenitor for all the great natural races, but many, and nothing more
clearly demonstrates his transparent sincerity in scientific matters
than what his critics are pleased to call his inconsistencies.
At the end of many years of persistent labour, Darwin published his
book on the _Origin of Species_.
I do not propose to give a summary of it. The author does not adopt
the method of a learned writer expounding his system; his attitude is
that of a naturalist who, during his excursions, examines nature in
its innumerable and most minute details; when two facts, both of which
he considers true, appear to contradict each other, he notes both
equally, since he is too sincere to conceal that one from the public
which apparently invalidates his theory. Moreover at each step he avows
that this theory is not yet entirely free from the fog which invariably
envelops each new idea at its birth. An explorer such as he is, who
has succeeded in explaining so many mysteries, might very naturally
become elated, but it is not so with him; his thoughts never seem
directed towards himself; with all his genius, self does not appear to
exist with him; the only things that are prominent--with a distinct
existence--are the phenomena which he studies.
The notion that all organic beings have been such as we now see them
from the beginning, was almost inevitable, as long as the theory was
held that the formation of the world was of comparatively recent date;
and those who, without further investigation, held the traditional
belief of the independent and individual creation of each species,
could only offer one explanation, if all animals--all plants--are
as they are it is because it has pleased the Creator to make them
so. Because the Darwinian theory has cast a doubt on the successive
creation of living things, it has been said that Darwin’s views were
inimical to religion. These impressions are transitory--as were those
expressed by Leibniz when he reproached Newton with introducing “occult
qualities and miracles into philosophy;”[11] and when he attacked his
law of gravitation “as subversive of natural, and inferentially of
revealed religion.”[11]
After explaining in what manner nature had produced all the variations
of plants and inferior animals from a small number of germs, Darwin
did not feel himself under the necessity of adding one more to the
germs in order that what was afterwards termed humanity might appear
on the scene; the principle of evolution as already applied to the
organic world, would suffice to explain all difficulties; the natural
forces all engaged in the same movement, would spread and branch out
in various directions, until they reached the culminating point of
incorporation with the human creature.
Darwin’s book, the _Descent of Man_, contains the genealogical table
of this higher animal which the author so often compares with the
lower animals. If both have so much in common, such as the chemical
composition of their bodies--their germinal vesicles--their laws of
growth and reproduction; it is--so he conceives--that both have come
from the same ancestor; moreover, all helps to prove that man has
received from his prototype amongst the mammifers, all the special
characteristics of its own organs. Thus it is easy to understand that
in the eyes of many naturalists the embryonic structure is of more
importance for an accurate classification than that of an adult, since
the embryo is that condition in which the animal has undergone the
least modification, thus it better represents the original form of the
primitive progenitor.
For a species of one of the inferior animals to have attained the
level of man, it was necessary that, following an universal law, it
must have undergone variations both corporally and mentally, during a
long succession of generations; the primary causes of these variations
is not clearly understood, but it has been proved that the conditions
of life or environment to which the living beings submitted were
potent agents in the renewal of phenomena. Like all other creatures
man increased out of all proportion to his means of subsistence,
and thus began the struggle for existence, when those who were best
equipped for the fight survived in the greatest numbers, and left the
greatest number of robust descendants. Man acquired the capability of
expressing his wants by means of language, at first, perhaps, little
different from that of the inferior animals, but the continued use
of language reacting on the brain furnished a means for the further
development of those mental faculties which of themselves constitute a
real distinction between man and beast. This difference, however, does
not become pronounced until a certain period of man’s existence, as
during the earliest stages the intelligence of the newly created human
beings does not differ from that of other mammifers. It begins to dawn
a little later, then gradually increases, and at last becomes most
strongly marked, even if a comparison be made between the intelligence
of a highly developed monkey and that of the lowest savage, who
has failed perhaps to find words with which to express the most
elementary emotions. But men are not all on the same level; without
speaking of the vast difference that exists between the faculties of
a Papuan and those which we know to have been possessed by a Newton
or a Kant, we notice a very sensible difference between the mental
powers of two individuals of the same race; but we always find these
extremes are connected by shades of difference which gradually melt
imperceptibly the one into the other. Darwin arrives at the conclusion
that the distinctions to be drawn between the intellect of man and the
intelligence of animals is one of degree rather than of kind.
Darwin shares the opinion of those who consider the moral consciousness
in man as that which distinguishes him specially from the inferior
animals, and he conceives its origin to be found in the social
instincts whose most important constituent parts are family ties and
the emotions to which they give rise. This consciousness makes man
capable of approving of certain acts and disapproving of others. After
having been overcome by a temporary passion, he reflects and compares
the already weakened motives causing him to act as he did, with the
appeal made to him by his family and social instincts, and he resolves
to act differently in the future; the opinion of his neighbours
influences him, but it is not so much the opinion of the community in
general as that of his own small circle to which he belongs.
Social instincts are found also amongst a large number of inferior
animals, but with them, this mutual sympathy does not extend to all the
species of their class, as with man it reaches only to the members of
their own small community.
With the progress of civilisation and in proportion as the smaller
communities become larger, so man’s reason leads him to extend his
sympathy to all the men of his nationality; arrived at this point,
there remains a very impalpable barrier between that and the inclusion
of men of all races in feelings of universal benevolence; but if these
races are separated from his by strong dissimilarities in external
appearance and in habits of life, it would take much time for him to
learn and recognise in them the constituent parts of humanity similar
to himself.
The moral consciousness which raises man to a level not attained by
beasts, leads him to conceive and apprehend the precept, “Do unto
others as you would they should do unto you.” The sympathy which
extends beyond the limits of humanity, such as compassion for animals,
seems the last quality to be developed. The moral sense in man has its
counterpart in animals of the inferior order; under the influence of
man the animal becomes more capable of improvement by the increased
exercise of his intelligence, by habits, by instincts of heredity, so
as to have transformed the prototype of the wolf and jackal to that of
a dog.
There is nothing to lead us to suppose that primitive man had felt the
existence of a principle higher than nature. There is much to indicate
that what we mean by religious feeling was not known to him; but the
aspect of the question undergoes a change if by religious sentiment we
understand belief in invisible spirits, for this belief was universal.
This is natural; as soon as certain faculties of the imagination awoke
in man, such as astonishment, curiosity, he would seek to understand
all that passed around him; his first idea would be that all the
phenomena in nature would proceed from the presence inherent in them
of a power compelling to action in the same way as man feels himself
obliged to act. This belief in the course of age would easily tend
towards fetishism, then to polytheism and finally to monotheism; it
would simultaneously inculcate many strange superstitions, of which
some produced terrible effects, such as the sacrifice of human lives to
a powerful being eager for human blood, since savages readily attribute
to these superior powers the desire for vengeance as well as all the
other evil passions they themselves possess.
Amongst civilised peoples the conception of an all-knowing, an
all-seeing God, exercises a powerful influence on morality; man learns
little by little, no longer to regard the praise or blame of society
as his sole guide; this external guidance is replaced by personal
inward convictions which come from his reason and which is conscience.
Religious devotion is a very complex human sentiment; it is composed of
love, submission, gratitude, hope, and perhaps of other elements; no
creature is in a position to experience so complicated an emotion whose
intellectual faculties have not attained a level of medium development.
Yet something approaching this may be seen in the depth of affection
manifested by a dog for his master, which is a combination of complete
submission, of fear, dependence, and perhaps also of other qualities.
Learned writers have for some time agreed in looking upon language
as the barrier separating man from animals; all books on logic state
the fact. But this special characteristic of the human race attracted
Darwin’s attention in a very small degree. “Man, however, at first,
uses, in common with the lower animals, inarticulate cries to express
his meaning, aided by gestures and the movements of the muscles of
the face.”[12] “Certain animals,” he says, “do not lack the physical
conditions necessary for articulate language, since there is not a
letter in the alphabet that a parrot cannot pronounce.” Darwin goes
even beyond this. “It is not the mere power of articulation that
distinguishes man from other animals, but it is his large power of
connecting definite sounds with definite ideas.”[12]
It would be difficult to be more explicit, and it must be owned that
this was a great concession on Darwin’s part; but afterwards, and
perhaps with the object of weakening the force of this statement,
he adds: “The fact of the higher apes not using their vocal organs
for speech, no doubt depends on their intelligence not having been
sufficiently advanced.”[13] However, no effort of thought, in the
present state of our knowledge, would cause us to understand how
any number of thousands of centuries passed in roaring and barking
could enable wolves and dogs to join a single definite idea to a
single definite sound; and if we said that, by the help of specially
favourable environments some unknown species of primitive animal had
acquired the power of speech, and had succeeded in imparting the
knowledge to its descendants, and in thus elevating them to the level
of human beings, we should only be relating fantastic tales, which
would have no connection with scientific research.
Darwin does not allow himself to be affected by this consideration. “In
a series of forms graduating insensibly from some ape-like creature to
man as he now exists, it would be impossible to fix on any definite
point where the term ‘man’ ought to be used.”[14] It is evident that
if the gradations were imperceptible, there would be no possibility of
marking the precise point where the animal ended and man began; “the
admission of this insensible gradation would eliminate, not only the
difference between ape and man, but likewise between black and white,
hot and cold, a high and a low note in music; in fact, it would do away
with the possibility of all exact and definite knowledge, by removing
those wonderful lines and laws of nature which ... enable us to count,
to tell, and to know.”[15]
I will now bring together some passages which are scattered in various
parts of the _Origin of Species_ and the _Descent of Man_ which have
especially attracted criticism.
“It is interesting to note that all that we are, all that we see,
has been produced by laws acting around us. These laws, taken in the
largest sense, being Growth with Reproduction; Inheritance, which is
almost implied by reproduction; Variability from the indirect and
direct action of the conditions of life, and from use and disuse; a
Ratio of Increase so high as to lead to a Struggle for Life, and as a
consequence to Natural Selection, entailing Divergence of Character and
the Extinction of less-improved forms. Thus, from the war of nature,
from famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable
of conceiving, namely, the production of the higher animals, directly
follows.”[16]
And again: “There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several
powers, having been originally breathed by the Creator into a few forms
or into one.”[16] “Man may be excused for feeling some pride at having
risen, though not through his own exertions, to the very summit of the
organic scale; and the fact of his having thus risen, instead of having
been aboriginally placed there, may give him hopes for a still higher
destiny in the distant future.”[17] “In the future I see open fields
for far more important researches. Psychology will be securely based on
newly laid down foundations; that of the necessary acquirement of each
mental power and capacity by gradation. Much light will be thrown on
the origin of man and his history.”[18]
Again elsewhere: “The moral sense or conscience, as Mackintosh remarks,
has a rightful supremacy over every other principle of human action.
It is summed up in that short but imperious word _ought_,” and Darwin
proceeds to quote Kant’s apostrophe as follows: “Duty! wondrous
thought, that workest neither by fond insinuation, flattery, nor by
any threat, but merely by holding up thy naked law in the soul, and so
extorting for thyself always reverence, if not always obedience; before
whom all appetites are dumb, however secretly they rebel. Duty! whence
thy original?”[19]
Darwin continues: “This great question, ‘Whence thy origin?’ has been
discussed by many writers of consummate ability; and my sole excuse for
touching on it is ... that, as far as I know, no one has approached it
exclusively from the side of natural history.”[20]
“But as the feelings of love and sympathy and the power of self-command
become strengthened by habit, and as the power of reasoning becomes
clearer, so that man can appreciate the justice of the judgments
of his fellow-men, he will feel himself impelled, independently of
any pleasure or pain felt at the moment, to risk his life for his
fellow-creature, or to sacrifice himself for any great cause. He
may then say, I am the supreme judge of my own conduct, and, in the
words of Kant, I will not in my own person violate the dignity of
humanity.”[21]
The warmest admirers of Darwin wish that he had expressed himself
more definitely. Some amongst them are astonished to find the word
“_Creator_” in certain editions of the _Origin of Species_, and not
in all; others have drawn attention to the fact that Darwin could
say in all good faith, “I see no good reason why the views given in
this volume should shock the religious feelings of any one.”[22]
Darwin’s line of thought has perhaps not been perfectly grasped, and
his commentators have been numerous. This, however, is certain. From
the moment when the author of the _Descent of Man_ considered that
he had discovered in social instincts the first germ of the idea of
duty, it becomes a matter for surprise that he yielded to the desire
of referring to Kant and of quoting his apostrophe to Duty. But it
is quite evident that Darwin did not see in the universe only the
fortuitous result of a combination of matter; he admitted the existence
of a law acting from the beginning and continuing to act. In order
the better to grasp his thought, it is necessary to be in a position
to define his terms. He speaks of natural selection, but in ordinary
parlance selection presupposes the existence of distinction and
judgment; and to distinguish and choose, intelligence is necessary; and
if the essential nature is intelligent, what is this nature?
The endeavour to prove that man has descended from a creature not
originally man has deeply stirred our generation, and the greater
number amongst us only yielded to a natural repugnance in repulsing
the idea with indignation. However, because this inward feeling
tells us that a proposition is false, it does not necessarily follow
that it is so; in looking at it more closely, we have to admit that
many humiliating facts are accepted by us without demur. We are not
scandalised at the notion of being composed of the same chemical
elements as the inferior animals, nor do we revolt against the
injustice of the circumstances and restraints imposed upon all by
the facts of birth and death; but this unreasoning submission has no
more rational basis than the revolt of our feelings, in presence of
the assumption, that an animal only was our ancestor. The notion that
animals so dissimilar as the monkey, the elephant, the bird, fish, and
man could have proceeded from the same parentage seems too monstrous to
be true; from the scientific point of view this feeling is of no value;
in the face of all the assertions of our moral convictions science,
as such, remains immovable; the only weapon admitted in a scientific
encounter is fact opposed to fact, argument to argument. Moreover,
any appeals which can be made to our pride, our dignity, our piety,
would be equally wide of the mark, so long as proof is lacking that
man possesses something which has no existence in lower animals either
actually or potentially.
It is a matter for regret to have to acknowledge the fact that the
union of a profound knowledge, combined with true sincerity in
research, is insufficient to endow the world with a well established
truth. The world is too hasty in accepting or rejecting a new system
before giving itself the trouble to divide the system into two parts,
one of which can be placed at once amongst evident truths, whilst the
other must be subjected to minute investigation and close testing.
Precisely after this manner does Darwin’s work lend itself to a
division into two parts, the former is the history of the formation and
gradual development of the organic world, represented by plants and
animals, including man (_The Origin of Species_), but it is also the
history of the formation and gradual development of man considered as a
being composed of body and spirit (_Descent of Man_). In the author’s
mind this portion of the subject is closely connected with the former.
At first sight it would appear that a tribunal, which was quick to
distinguish truth from error in this teaching, had not been found.
Certainly scientific materialism has no voice in the matter, since its
mission is only to deal with material and actual facts; and when from
the facts accumulated conclusions are deduced as applied to origins,
this would be out of its sphere, and the conclusions reached can only
be arbitrary; thus Darwin’s theory not being found free from the taint
of idealism, it was condemned without trial. Religious dogmatism did
not show itself any more capable of deciding the question, for this
dogmatism, whose domain is faith, considered that due reference was
not made to Divine intervention, and concluded that the theory was
only judged by the light of science, and thus condemned it unheard.
But all condemnation, which cannot prove itself to be just, has no
scientific value, only one tribunal is competent of judging and solving
the question, and that is the science of language, it alone possesses
documentary evidence. The exact point at which the animal ceases and
man begins can be determined with precision since it coincides with the
beginning of the “Radical Period” of language, and language is reason.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Max Müller, _Science of Thought_, p. 98.
[2] Thus Max Müller says: “In Chinese the number of imitative sounds is
very considerable.... We give a few, together with the corresponding
sounds in Mandshu. The difference between the two will show how
differently the same sounds strike different ears, and how differently
they are rendered into articulate language:
The cock crows = _kiao kiao_ in Chinese
= _dchor dchor_ in Mandshu.”
--Max Müller, _Science of Language_, vol. i. note p. 419.
[3] Max Müller says again: “We listen in vain for any similarity
between goose and cackling, hen and clucking, duck and quacking.”--Max
Müller, _Science of Language_, vol. i., p. 410.
[4] Darwin’s _Expression of the Emotions_, p. 93.
[5] Max Müller, _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. i. p. 190.
[6] _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. i. p. 82.
[7] Max Müller, _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. i. p. 21.
[8] Max Müller, _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. ii. p. 1.
[9] _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. ii. p. 5.
[10] Max Müller, partly from _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. ii.
p. 6.
[11] Darwin’s _Origin of Species_, 6th Edition, p. 396.
[12] Darwin’s _Descent of Man_, 1871, vol. i. p. 54.
[13] Darwin’s _Descent of Man_, vol. i. p. 59.
[14] _Ibid._, vol. i. p. 235.
[15] Max Müller’s _Science of Thought_, pp. 166, 167.
[16] Darwin’s _Origin of Species_, p. 403.
[17] Darwin’s _Descent of Man_, vol. ii. p. 405.
[18] Darwin’s _Origin of Species_, p. 402.
[19] Quoted by Darwin in _Descent of Man_, vol. i. p. 70.
[20] Darwin’s _Descent of Man_, vol. i. p. 71.
[21] _Ibid._, vol. i. p. 86.
[22] Darwin’s _Origin of Species_, p. 396.