CHAPTER VIII. — PRINCIPLES OF SEXUAL SELECTION.
CHAPTER IX. — SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS IN THE LOWER CLASSES OF THE ANIMAL KINGDOM.
CHAPTER X. — SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF INSECTS.
CHAPTER XI. — INSECTS, continued. ORDER LEPIDOPTERA. (BUTTERFLIES AND MOTHS.)
CHAPTER XII. — SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF FISHES, AMPHIBIANS, AND REPTILES.
CHAPTER XIII. — SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF BIRDS.
CHAPTER XIV. — BIRDS—continued.
CHAPTER XV. — BIRDS—continued.
CHAPTER XVI. — BIRDS—concluded.
CHAPTER XVII. — SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF MAMMALS.
CHAPTER XVIII. — SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF MAMMALS, continued.
PART III. — SEXUAL SELECTION IN RELATION TO MAN, AND CONCLUSION.
CHAPTER XIX. — SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF MAN.
CHAPTER XX. — SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF MAN, continued.
CHAPTER XXI. — GENERAL A SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
During the successive reprints of the first edition of this work,
published in 1871, I was able to introduce several important
corrections; and now that more time has elapsed, I have endeavoured to
profit by the fiery ordeal through which the book has passed, and have
taken advantage of all the criticisms which seem to me sound. I am also
greatly indebted to a large number of correspondents for the
communication of a surprising number of new facts and remarks. These
have been so numerous, that I have been able to use only the more
important ones; and of these, as well as of the more important
corrections, I will append a list. Some new illustrations have been
introduced, and four of the old drawings have been replaced by better
ones, done from life by Mr. T.W. Wood. I must especially call attention
to some observations which I owe to the kindness of Prof. Huxley (given
as a supplement at the end of Part I.), on the nature of the
differences between the brains of man and the higher apes. I have been
particularly glad to give these observations, because during the last
few years several memoirs on the subject have appeared on the
Continent, and their importance has been, in some cases, greatly
exaggerated by popular writers.
I may take this opportunity of remarking that my critics frequently
assume that I attribute all changes of corporeal structure and mental
power exclusively to the natural selection of such variations as are
often called spontaneous; whereas, even in the first edition of the
‘Origin of Species,’ I distinctly stated that great weight must be
attributed to the inherited effects of use and disuse, with respect
both to the body and mind. I also attributed some amount of
modification to the direct and prolonged action of changed conditions
of life. Some allowance, too, must be made for occasional reversions of
structure; nor must we forget what I have called “correlated” growth,
meaning, thereby, that various parts of the organisation are in some
unknown manner so connected, that when one part varies, so do others;
and if variations in the one are accumulated by selection, other parts
will be modified. Again, it has been said by several critics, that when
I found that many details of structure in man could not be explained
through natural selection, I invented sexual selection; I gave,
however, a tolerably clear sketch of this principle in the first
edition of the ‘Origin of Species,’ and I there stated that it was
applicable to man. This subject of sexual selection has been treated at
full length in the present work, simply because an opportunity was here
first afforded me. I have been struck with the likeness of many of the
half-favourable criticisms on sexual selection, with those which
appeared at first on natural selection; such as, that it would explain
some few details, but certainly was not applicable to the extent to
which I have employed it. My conviction of the power of sexual
selection remains unshaken; but it is probable, or almost certain, that
several of my conclusions will hereafter be found erroneous; this can
hardly fail to be the case in the first treatment of a subject. When
naturalists have become familiar with the idea of sexual selection, it
will, as I believe, be much more largely accepted; and it has already
been fully and favourably received by several capable judges.
DOWN, BECKENHAM, KENT, September, 1874.
First Edition February 24, 1871. Second Edition September, 1874.
DETAILED TABLE OF CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION.
PART I. THE DESCENT OR ORIGIN OF MAN.
CHAPTER I.
THE EVIDENCE OF THE DESCENT OF MAN FROM SOME LOWER FORM.
Nature of the evidence bearing on the origin of man—Homologous
structures in man and the lower animals—Miscellaneous points of
correspondence—Development—Rudimentary structures, muscles,
sense-organs, hair, bones, reproductive organs, etc.—The bearing of
these three great classes of facts on the origin of man.
CHAPTER II.
ON THE MANNER OF DEVELOPMENT OF MAN FROM SOME LOWER FORM.
Variability of body and mind in man—Inheritance—Causes of
variability—Laws of variation the same in man as in the lower
animals—Direct action of the conditions of life—Effects of the
increased use and disuse of parts—Arrested
development—Reversion—Correlated variation—Rate of increase—Checks to
increase—Natural selection—Man the most dominant animal in the
world—Importance of his corporeal structure—The causes which have led
to his becoming erect—Consequent changes of structure—Decrease in size
of the canine teeth—Increased size and altered shape of the
skull—Nakedness —Absence of a tail—Defenceless condition of man.
CHAPTER III.
COMPARISON OF THE MENTAL POWERS OF MAN AND THE LOWER ANIMALS.
The difference in mental power between the highest ape and the lowest
savage, immense—Certain instincts in common—The
emotions—Curiosity—Imitation—Attention—Memory—
Imagination—Reason—Progressive improvement —Tools and weapons used by
animals—Abstraction, Self-consciousness—Language—Sense of beauty—Belief
in God, spiritual agencies, superstitions.
CHAPTER IV.
COMPARISON OF THE MENTAL POWERS OF MAN AND THE LOWER ANIMALS,
continued.
The moral sense—Fundamental proposition—The qualities of social
animals—Origin of sociability—Struggle between opposed instincts—Man a
social animal—The more enduring social instincts conquer other less
persistent instincts—The social virtues alone regarded by savages—The
self-regarding virtues acquired at a later stage of development—The
importance of the judgment of the members of the same community on
conduct—Transmission of moral tendencies—Summary.
CHAPTER V.
ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL FACULTIES DURING
PRIMEVAL AND CIVILISED TIMES.
Advancement of the intellectual powers through natural
selection—Importance of imitation—Social and moral faculties—Their
development within the limits of the same tribe—Natural selection as
affecting civilised nations—Evidence that civilised nations were once
barbarous.
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE AFFINITIES AND GENEALOGY OF MAN.
Position of man in the animal series—The natural system
genealogical—Adaptive characters of slight value—Various small points
of resemblance between man and the Quadrumana—Rank of man in the
natural system—Birthplace and antiquity of man—Absence of fossil
connecting-links—Lower stages in the genealogy of man, as inferred
firstly from his affinities and secondly from his structure—Early
androgynous condition of the Vertebrata —Conclusion.
CHAPTER VII.
ON THE RACES OF MAN.
The nature and value of specific characters—Application to the races of
man—Arguments in favour of, and opposed to, ranking the so-called races
of man as distinct species—Sub-species—Monogenists and
polygenists—Convergence of character—Numerous points of resemblance in
body and mind between the most distinct races of man—The state of man
when he first spread over the earth—Each race not descended from a
single pair—The extinction of races—The formation of races—The effects
of crossing—Slight influence of the direct action of the conditions of
life—Slight or no influence of natural selection—Sexual selection.
PART II. SEXUAL SELECTION.
CHAPTER VIII.
PRINCIPLES OF SEXUAL SELECTION.
Secondary sexual characters—Sexual selection—Manner of action—Excess of
males—Polygamy—The male alone generally modified through sexual
selection—Eagerness of the male—Variability of the male—Choice exerted
by the female—Sexual compared with natural selection—Inheritance at
corresponding periods of life, at corresponding seasons of the year,
and as limited by sex—Relations between the several forms of
inheritance—Causes why one sex and the young are not modified through
sexual selection—Supplement on the proportional numbers of the two
sexes throughout the animal kingdom—The proportion of the sexes in
relation to natural selection.
CHAPTER IX.
SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS IN THE LOWER CLASSES OF THE ANIMAL KINGDOM.
These characters are absent in the lowest classes—Brilliant
colours—Mollusca—Annelids—Crustacea, secondary sexual characters
strongly developed; dimorphism; colour; characters not acquired before
maturity—Spiders, sexual colours of; stridulation by the
males—Myriapoda.
CHAPTER X.
SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF INSECTS.
Diversified structures possessed by the males for seizing the
females—Differences between the sexes, of which the meaning is not
understood—Difference in size between the
sexes—Thysanura—Diptera—Hemiptera—Homoptera, musical powers possessed
by the males alone—Orthoptera, musical instruments of the males, much
diversified in structure; pugnacity; colours—Neuroptera, sexual
differences in colour—Hymenoptera, pugnacity and odours—Coleoptera,
colours; furnished with great horns, apparently as an ornament;
battles; stridulating organs generally common to both sexes.
CHAPTER XI.
INSECTS, continued. ORDER LEPIDOPTERA. (BUTTERFLIES AND MOTHS.)
Courtship of Butterflies—Battles—Ticking noise—Colours common to both
sexes, or more brilliant in the males—Examples—Not due to the direct
action of the conditions of life—Colours adapted for protection—Colours
of moths—Display—Perceptive powers of the
Lepidoptera—Variability—Causes of the difference in colour between the
males and females—Mimicry, female butterflies more brilliantly coloured
than the males—Bright colours of caterpillars—Summary and concluding
remarks on the secondary sexual character of insects—Birds and insects
compared.
CHAPTER XII.
SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF FISHES, AMPHIBIANS, AND REPTILES.
Fishes: Courtship and battles of the males—Larger size of the
females—Males, bright colours and ornamental appendages; other strange
characters—Colours and appendages acquired by the males during the
breeding-season alone—Fishes with both sexes brilliantly
coloured—Protective colours—The less conspicuous colours of the female
cannot be accounted for on the principle of protection—Male fishes
building nests, and taking charge of the ova and young. AMPHIBIANS:
Differences in structure and colour between the sexes—Vocal organs.
REPTILES: Chelonians—Crocodiles—Snakes, colours in some cases
protective—Lizards, battles of—Ornamental appendages—Strange
differences in structure between the sexes—Colours—Sexual differences
almost as great as with birds.
CHAPTER XIII.
SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF BIRDS.
Sexual differences—Law of battle—Special weapons—Vocal
organs—Instrumental music—Love-antics and dances—Decorations, permanent
and seasonal—Double and single annual moults—Display of ornaments by
the males.
CHAPTER XIV.
BIRDS—continued.
Choice exerted by the female—Length of courtship—Unpaired birds—Mental
qualities and taste for the beautiful—Preference or antipathy shewn by
the female for particular males—Variability of birds—Variations
sometimes abrupt—Laws of variation—Formation of ocelli—Gradations of
character—Case of Peacock, Argus pheasant, and Urosticte.
CHAPTER XV.
BIRDS—continued.
Discussion as to why the males alone of some species, and both sexes of
others are brightly coloured—On sexually-limited inheritance, as
applied to various structures and to brightly-coloured
plumage—Nidification in relation to colour—Loss of nuptial plumage
during the winter.
CHAPTER XVI.
BIRDS—concluded.
The immature plumage in relation to the character of the plumage in
both sexes when adult—Six classes of cases—Sexual differences between
the males of closely-allied or representative species—The female
assuming the characters of the male—Plumage of the young in relation to
the summer and winter plumage of the adults—On the increase of beauty
in the birds of the world—Protective colouring—Conspicuously coloured
birds—Novelty appreciated—Summary of the four chapters on birds.
CHAPTER XVII.
SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF MAMMALS.
The law of battle—Special weapons, confined to the males—Cause of
absence of weapons in the female—Weapons common to both sexes, yet
primarily acquired by the male—Other uses of such weapons—Their high
importance—Greater size of the male—Means of defence—On the preference
shewn by either sex in the pairing of quadrupeds.
CHAPTER XVIII.
SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF MAMMALS, continued.
Voice—Remarkable sexual peculiarities in seals—Odour—Development of the
hair—Colour of the hair and skin—Anomalous case of the female being
more ornamented than the male—Colour and ornaments due to sexual
selection—Colour acquired for the sake of protection—Colour, though
common to both sexes, often due to sexual selection—On the
disappearance of spots and stripes in adult quadrupeds—On the colours
and ornaments of the Quadrumana—Summary.
PART III. SEXUAL SELECTION IN RELATION TO MAN, AND CONCLUSION.
CHAPTER XIX.
SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF MAN.
Differences between man and woman—Causes of such differences, and of
certain characters common to both sexes—Law of battle—Differences in
mental powers, and voice—On the influence of beauty in determining the
marriages of mankind—Attention paid by savages to ornaments—Their ideas
of beauty in women—The tendency to exaggerate each natural peculiarity.
CHAPTER XX.
SECONDARY SEXUAL CHARACTERS OF MAN, continued.
On the effects of the continued selection of women according to a
different standard of beauty in each race—On the causes which interfere
with sexual selection in civilised and savage nations—Conditions
favourable to sexual selection during primeval times—On the manner of
action of sexual selection with mankind—On the women in savage tribes
having some power to choose their husbands—Absence of hair on the body,
and development of the beard—Colour of the skin—Summary.
CHAPTER XXI.
GENERAL A SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION.
Main conclusion that man is descended from some lower form—Manner of
development—Genealogy of man—Intellectual and moral faculties—Sexual
selection—Concluding remarks.
THE DESCENT OF MAN; AND SELECTION IN RELATION TO SEX.
INTRODUCTION.
The nature of the following work will be best understood by a brief
account of how it came to be written. During many years I collected
notes on the origin or descent of man, without any intention of
publishing on the subject, but rather with the determination not to
publish, as I thought that I should thus only add to the prejudices
against my views. It seemed to me sufficient to indicate, in the first
edition of my ‘Origin of Species,’ that by this work “light would be
thrown on the origin of man and his history;” and this implies that man
must be included with other organic beings in any general conclusion
respecting his manner of appearance on this earth. Now the case wears a
wholly different aspect. When a naturalist like Carl Vogt ventures to
say in his address as President of the National Institution of Geneva
(1869), “personne, en Europe au moins, n’ose plus soutenir la creation
indépendante et de toutes pièces, des espèces,” it is manifest that at
least a large number of naturalists must admit that species are the
modified descendants of other species; and this especially holds good
with the younger and rising naturalists. The greater number accept the
agency of natural selection; though some urge, whether with justice the
future must decide, that I have greatly overrated its importance. Of
the older and honoured chiefs in natural science, many unfortunately
are still opposed to evolution in every form.
In consequence of the views now adopted by most naturalists, and which
will ultimately, as in every other case, be followed by others who are
not scientific, I have been led to put together my notes, so as to see
how far the general conclusions arrived at in my former works were
applicable to man. This seemed all the more desirable, as I had never
deliberately applied these views to a species taken singly. When we
confine our attention to any one form, we are deprived of the weighty
arguments derived from the nature of the affinities which connect
together whole groups of organisms—their geographical distribution in
past and present times, and their geological succession. The
homological structure, embryological development, and rudimentary
organs of a species remain to be considered, whether it be man or any
other animal, to which our attention may be directed; but these great
classes of facts afford, as it appears to me, ample and conclusive
evidence in favour of the principle of gradual evolution. The strong
support derived from the other arguments should, however, always be
kept before the mind.
The sole object of this work is to consider, firstly, whether man, like
every other species, is descended from some pre-existing form;
secondly, the manner of his development; and thirdly, the value of the
differences between the so-called races of man. As I shall confine
myself to these points, it will not be necessary to describe in detail
the differences between the several races—an enormous subject which has
been fully described in many valuable works. The high antiquity of man
has recently been demonstrated by the labours of a host of eminent men,
beginning with M. Boucher de Perthes; and this is the indispensable
basis for understanding his origin. I shall, therefore, take this
conclusion for granted, and may refer my readers to the admirable
treatises of Sir Charles Lyell, Sir John Lubbock, and others. Nor shall
I have occasion to do more than to allude to the amount of difference
between man and the anthropomorphous apes; for Prof. Huxley, in the
opinion of most competent judges, has conclusively shewn that in every
visible character man differs less from the higher apes, than these do
from the lower members of the same order of Primates.
This work contains hardly any original facts in regard to man; but as
the conclusions at which I arrived, after drawing up a rough draft,
appeared to me interesting, I thought that they might interest others.
It has often and confidently been asserted, that man’s origin can never
be known: but ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does
knowledge: it is those who know little, and not those who know much,
who so positively assert that this or that problem will never be solved
by science. The conclusion that man is the co-descendant with other
species of some ancient, lower, and extinct form, is not in any degree
new. Lamarck long ago came to this conclusion, which has lately been
maintained by several eminent naturalists and philosophers; for
instance, by Wallace, Huxley, Lyell, Vogt, Lubbock, Buchner, Rolle,
etc. (1. As the works of the first-named authors are so well known, I
need not give the titles; but as those of the latter are less well
known in England, I will give them:—‘Sechs Vorlesungen über die
Darwin’sche Theorie:’ zweite Auflage, 1868, von Dr L. Buchner;
translated into French under the title ‘Conférences sur la Théorie
Darwinienne,’ 1869. ‘Der Mensch im Lichte der Darwin’sche Lehre,’ 1865,
von Dr. F. Rolle. I will not attempt to give references to all the
authors who have taken the same side of the question. Thus G.
Canestrini has published (‘Annuario della Soc. d. Nat.,’ Modena, 1867,
page 81) a very curious paper on rudimentary characters, as bearing on
the origin of man. Another work has (1869) been published by Dr.
Francesco Barrago, bearing in Italian the title of “Man, made in the
image of God, was also made in the image of the ape.”), and especially
by Haeckel. This last naturalist, besides his great work, ‘Generelle
Morphologie’ (1866), has recently (1868, with a second edition in
1870), published his ‘Natürliche Schöpfungsgeschichte,’ in which he
fully discusses the genealogy of man. If this work had appeared before
my essay had been written, I should probably never have completed it.
Almost all the conclusions at which I have arrived I find confirmed by
this naturalist, whose knowledge on many points is much fuller than
mine. Wherever I have added any fact or view from Prof. Haeckel’s
writings, I give his authority in the text; other statements I leave as
they originally stood in my manuscript, occasionally giving in the
foot-notes references to his works, as a confirmation of the more
doubtful or interesting points.
During many years it has seemed to me highly probable that sexual
selection has played an important part in differentiating the races of
man; but in my ‘Origin of Species’ (first edition, page 199) I
contented myself by merely alluding to this belief. When I came to
apply this view to man, I found it indispensable to treat the whole
subject in full detail. (2. Prof. Haeckel was the only author who, at
the time when this work first appeared, had discussed the subject of
sexual selection, and had seen its full importance, since the
publication of the ‘Origin’; and this he did in a very able manner in
his various works.) Consequently the second part of the present work,
treating of sexual selection, has extended to an inordinate length,
compared with the first part; but this could not be avoided.
I had intended adding to the present volumes an essay on the expression
of the various emotions by man and the lower animals. My attention was
called to this subject many years ago by Sir Charles Bell’s admirable
work. This illustrious anatomist maintains that man is endowed with
certain muscles solely for the sake of expressing his emotions. As this
view is obviously opposed to the belief that man is descended from some
other and lower form, it was necessary for me to consider it. I
likewise wished to ascertain how far the emotions are expressed in the
same manner by the different races of man. But owing to the length of
the present work, I have thought it better to reserve my essay for
separate publication.
PART I.
THE DESCENT OR ORIGIN OF MAN.
CHAPTER I.
THE EVIDENCE OF THE DESCENT OF MAN FROM SOME LOWER FORM.
Nature of the evidence bearing on the origin of man—Homologous
structures in man and the lower animals—Miscellaneous points of
correspondence—Development—Rudimentary structures, muscles, sense-
organs, hair, bones, reproductive organs, etc.—The bearing of these
three great classes of facts on the origin of man.
He who wishes to decide whether man is the modified descendant of some
pre-existing form, would probably first enquire whether man varies,
however slightly, in bodily structure and in mental faculties; and if
so, whether the variations are transmitted to his offspring in
accordance with the laws which prevail with the lower animals. Again,
are the variations the result, as far as our ignorance permits us to
judge, of the same general causes, and are they governed by the same
general laws, as in the case of other organisms; for instance, by
correlation, the inherited effects of use and disuse, etc.? Is man
subject to similar malconformations, the result of arrested
development, of reduplication of parts, etc., and does he display in
any of his anomalies reversion to some former and ancient type of
structure? It might also naturally be enquired whether man, like so
many other animals, has given rise to varieties and sub-races,
differing but slightly from each other, or to races differing so much
that they must be classed as doubtful species? How are such races
distributed over the world; and how, when crossed, do they react on
each other in the first and succeeding generations? And so with many
other points.
The enquirer would next come to the important point, whether man tends
to increase at so rapid a rate, as to lead to occasional severe
struggles for existence; and consequently to beneficial variations,
whether in body or mind, being preserved, and injurious ones
eliminated. Do the races or species of men, whichever term may be
applied, encroach on and replace one another, so that some finally
become extinct? We shall see that all these questions, as indeed is
obvious in respect to most of them, must be answered in the
affirmative, in the same manner as with the lower animals. But the
several considerations just referred to may be conveniently deferred
for a time: and we will first see how far the bodily structure of man
shews traces, more or less plain, of his descent from some lower form.
In succeeding chapters the mental powers of man, in comparison with
those of the lower animals, will be considered.
THE BODILY STRUCTURE OF MAN.
It is notorious that man is constructed on the same general type or
model as other mammals. All the bones in his skeleton can be compared
with corresponding bones in a monkey, bat, or seal. So it is with his
muscles, nerves, blood-vessels and internal viscera. The brain, the
most important of all the organs, follows the same law, as shewn by
Huxley and other anatomists. Bischoff (1. ‘Grosshirnwindungen des
Menschen,’ 1868, s. 96. The conclusions of this author, as well as
those of Gratiolet and Aeby, concerning the brain, will be discussed by
Prof. Huxley in the Appendix alluded to in the Preface to this
edition.), who is a hostile witness, admits that every chief fissure
and fold in the brain of man has its analogy in that of the orang; but
he adds that at no period of development do their brains perfectly
agree; nor could perfect agreement be expected, for otherwise their
mental powers would have been the same. Vulpian (2. ‘Lec. sur la Phys.’
1866, page 890, as quoted by M. Dally, ‘L’Ordre des Primates et le
Transformisme,’ 1868, page 29.), remarks: “Les différences réelles qui
existent entre l’encephale de l’homme et celui des singes supérieurs,
sont bien minimes. Il ne faut pas se faire d’illusions a cet égard.
L’homme est bien plus près des singes anthropomorphes par les
caractères anatomiques de son cerveau que ceux-ci ne le sont non
seulement des autres mammifères, mais même de certains quadrumanes, des
guenons et des macaques.” But it would be superfluous here to give
further details on the correspondence between man and the higher
mammals in the structure of the brain and all other parts of the body.
It may, however, be worth while to specify a few points, not directly
or obviously connected with structure, by which this correspondence or
relationship is well shewn.
Man is liable to receive from the lower animals, and to communicate to
them, certain diseases, as hydrophobia, variola, the glanders,
syphilis, cholera, herpes, etc. (3. Dr. W. Lauder Lindsay has treated
this subject at some length in the ‘Journal of Mental Science,’ July
1871; and in the ‘Edinburgh Veterinary Review,’ July 1858.); and this
fact proves the close similarity (4. A Reviewer has criticised
(‘British Quarterly Review,’ Oct. 1st, 1871, page 472) what I have here
said with much severity and contempt; but as I do not use the term
identity, I cannot see that I am greatly in error. There appears to me
a strong analogy between the same infection or contagion producing the
same result, or one closely similar, in two distinct animals, and the
testing of two distinct fluids by the same chemical reagent.) of their
tissues and blood, both in minute structure and composition, far more
plainly than does their comparison under the best microscope, or by the
aid of the best chemical analysis. Monkeys are liable to many of the
same non-contagious diseases as we are; thus Rengger (5.
‘Naturgeschichte der Säugethiere von Paraguay,’ 1830, s. 50.), who
carefully observed for a long time the Cebus Azarae in its native land,
found it liable to catarrh, with the usual symptoms, and which, when
often recurrent, led to consumption. These monkeys suffered also from
apoplexy, inflammation of the bowels, and cataract in the eye. The
younger ones when shedding their milk-teeth often died from fever.
Medicines produced the same effect on them as on us. Many kinds of
monkeys have a strong taste for tea, coffee, and spiritous liquors:
they will also, as I have myself seen, smoke tobacco with pleasure. (6.
The same tastes are common to some animals much lower in the scale. Mr.
A. Nichols informs me that he kept in Queensland, in Australia, three
individuals of the Phaseolarctus cinereus; and that, without having
been taught in any way, they acquired a strong taste for rum, and for
smoking tobacco.) Brehm asserts that the natives of north-eastern
Africa catch the wild baboons by exposing vessels with strong beer, by
which they are made drunk. He has seen some of these animals, which he
kept in confinement, in this state; and he gives a laughable account of
their behaviour and strange grimaces. On the following morning they
were very cross and dismal; they held their aching heads with both
hands, and wore a most pitiable expression: when beer or wine was
offered them, they turned away with disgust, but relished the juice of
lemons. (7. Brehm, ‘Thierleben,’ B. i. 1864, s. 75, 86. On the Ateles,
s. 105. For other analogous statements, see s. 25, 107.) An American
monkey, an Ateles, after getting drunk on brandy, would never touch it
again, and thus was wiser than many men. These trifling facts prove how
similar the nerves of taste must be in monkeys and man, and how
similarly their whole nervous system is affected.
Man is infested with internal parasites, sometimes causing fatal
effects; and is plagued by external parasites, all of which belong to
the same genera or families as those infesting other mammals, and in
the case of scabies to the same species. (8. Dr. W. Lauder Lindsay,
‘Edinburgh Vet. Review,’ July 1858, page 13.) Man is subject, like
other mammals, birds, and even insects (9. With respect to insects see
Dr. Laycock, “On a General Law of Vital Periodicity,” ‘British
Association,’ 1842. Dr. Macculloch, ‘Silliman’s North American Journal
of Science,’ vol. XVII. page 305, has seen a dog suffering from tertian
ague. Hereafter I shall return to this subject.), to that mysterious
law, which causes certain normal processes, such as gestation, as well
as the maturation and duration of various diseases, to follow lunar
periods. His wounds are repaired by the same process of healing; and
the stumps left after the amputation of his limbs, especially during an
early embryonic period, occasionally possess some power of
regeneration, as in the lowest animals. (10. I have given the evidence
on this head in my ‘Variation of Animals and Plants under
Domestication,’ vol. ii. page 15, and more could be added.)
The whole process of that most important function, the reproduction of
the species, is strikingly the same in all mammals, from the first act
of courtship by the male (11. Mares e diversis generibus Quadrumanorum
sine dubio dignoscunt feminas humanas a maribus. Primum, credo,
odoratu, postea aspectu. Mr. Youatt, qui diu in Hortis Zoologicis
(Bestiariis) medicus animalium erat, vir in rebus observandis cautus et
sagax, hoc mihi certissime probavit, et curatores ejusdem loci et alii
e ministris confirmaverunt. Sir Andrew Smith et Brehm notabant idem in
Cynocephalo. Illustrissimus Cuvier etiam narrat multa de hac re, qua ut
opinor, nihil turpius potest indicari inter omnia hominibus et
Quadrumanis communia. Narrat enim Cynocephalum quendam in furorem
incidere aspectu feminarum aliquarem, sed nequaquam accendi tanto
furore ab omnibus. Semper eligebat juniores, et dignoscebat in turba,
et advocabat voce gestuque.), to the birth and nurturing of the young.
Monkeys are born in almost as helpless a condition as our own infants;
and in certain genera the young differ fully as much in appearance from
the adults, as do our children from their full-grown parents. (12. This
remark is made with respect to Cynocephalus and the anthropomorphous
apes by Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire and F. Cuvier, ‘Histoire Nat. des
Mammifères,’ tom. i. 1824.) It has been urged by some writers, as an
important distinction, that with man the young arrive at maturity at a
much later age than with any other animal: but if we look to the races
of mankind which inhabit tropical countries the difference is not
great, for the orang is believed not to be adult till the age of from
ten to fifteen years. (13. Huxley, ‘Man’s Place in Nature,’ 1863, p.
34.) Man differs from woman in size, bodily strength, hairiness, etc.,
as well as in mind, in the same manner as do the two sexes of many
mammals. So that the correspondence in general structure, in the minute
structure of the tissues, in chemical composition and in constitution,
between man and the higher animals, especially the anthropomorphous
apes, is extremely close.
EMBRYONIC DEVELOPMENT.
[Fig. 1. Shows a human embryo, from Ecker, and a dog embryo, from
Bischoff. Labelled in each are:
a. Fore-brain, cerebral hemispheres, etc. b. Mid-brain, corpora
quadrigemina. c. Hind-brain, cerebellum, medulla oblongata. d. Eye. e.
Ear. f. First visceral arch. g. Second visceral arch. H. Vertebral
columns and muscles in process of development. i. Anterior extremities.
K. Posterior extremities. L. Tail or os coccyx.]
Man is developed from an ovule, about the 125th of an inch in diameter,
which differs in no respect from the ovules of other animals. The
embryo itself at a very early period can hardly be distinguished from
that of other members of the vertebrate kingdom. At this period the
arteries run in arch-like branches, as if to carry the blood to
branchiae which are not present in the higher Vertebrata, though the
slits on the sides of the neck still remain (see f, g, fig. 1), marking
their former position. At a somewhat later period, when the extremities
are developed, “the feet of lizards and mammals,” as the illustrious
Von Baer remarks, “the wings and feet of birds, no less than the hands
and feet of man, all arise from the same fundamental form.” It is, says
Prof. Huxley (14. ‘Man’s Place in Nature,’ 1863, p. 67.), “quite in the
later stages of development that the young human being presents marked
differences from the young ape, while the latter departs as much from
the dog in its developments, as the man does. Startling as this last
assertion may appear to be, it is demonstrably true.”
As some of my readers may never have seen a drawing of an embryo, I
have given one of man and another of a dog, at about the same early
stage of development, carefully copied from two works of undoubted
accuracy. (15. The human embryo (upper fig.) is from Ecker, ‘Icones
Phys.,’ 1851-1859, tab. xxx. fig. 2. This embryo was ten lines in
length, so that the drawing is much magnified. The embryo of the dog is
from Bischoff, ‘Entwicklungsgeschichte des Hunde-Eies,’ 1845, tab. xi.
fig. 42B. This drawing is five times magnified, the embryo being
twenty-five days old. The internal viscera have been omitted, and the
uterine appendages in both drawings removed. I was directed to these
figures by Prof. Huxley, from whose work, ‘Man’s Place in Nature,’ the
idea of giving them was taken. Haeckel has also given analogous
drawings in his ‘Schopfungsgeschichte.’)
After the foregoing statements made by such high authorities, it would
be superfluous on my part to give a number of borrowed details, shewing
that the embryo of man closely resembles that of other mammals. It may,
however, be added, that the human embryo likewise resembles certain low
forms when adult in various points of structure. For instance, the
heart at first exists as a simple pulsating vessel; the excreta are
voided through a cloacal passage; and the os coccyx projects like a
true tail, “extending considerably beyond the rudimentary legs.” (16.
Prof. Wyman in ‘Proceedings of the American Academy of Sciences,’ vol.
iv. 1860, p. 17.) In the embryos of all air-breathing vertebrates,
certain glands, called the corpora Wolffiana, correspond with, and act
like the kidneys of mature fishes. (17. Owen, ‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’
vol. i. p. 533.) Even at a later embryonic period, some striking
resemblances between man and the lower animals may be observed.
Bischoff says that “the convolutions of the brain in a human foetus at
the end of the seventh month reach about the same stage of development
as in a baboon when adult.” (18. ‘Die Grosshirnwindungen des Menschen,’
1868, s. 95.) The great toe, as Professor Owen remarks (19. ‘Anatomy of
Vertebrates,’ vol. ii. p. 553.), “which forms the fulcrum when standing
or walking, is perhaps the most characteristic peculiarity in the human
structure;” but in an embryo, about an inch in length, Prof. Wyman (20.
‘Proc. Soc. Nat. Hist.’ Boston, 1863, vol. ix. p. 185.) found “that the
great toe was shorter than the others; and, instead of being parallel
to them, projected at an angle from the side of the foot, thus
corresponding with the permanent condition of this part in the
quadrumana.” I will conclude with a quotation from Huxley (21. ‘Man’s
Place in Nature,’ p. 65.) who after asking, does man originate in a
different way from a dog, bird, frog or fish? says, “the reply is not
doubtful for a moment; without question, the mode of origin, and the
early stages of the development of man, are identical with those of the
animals immediately below him in the scale: without a doubt in these
respects, he is far nearer to apes than the apes are to the dog.”
RUDIMENTS.
This subject, though not intrinsically more important than the two
last, will for several reasons be treated here more fully. (22. I had
written a rough copy of this chapter before reading a valuable paper,
“Caratteri rudimentali in ordine all’ origine dell’ uomo” (‘Annuario
della Soc. d. Naturalisti,’ Modena, 1867, p. 81), by G. Canestrini, to
which paper I am considerably indebted. Haeckel has given admirable
discussions on this whole subject, under the title of Dysteleology, in
his ‘Generelle Morphologie’ and ‘Schöpfungsgeschichte.’) Not one of the
higher animals can be named which does not bear some part in a
rudimentary condition; and man forms no exception to the rule.
Rudimentary organs must be distinguished from those that are nascent;
though in some cases the distinction is not easy. The former are either
absolutely useless, such as the mammae of male quadrupeds, or the
incisor teeth of ruminants which never cut through the gums; or they
are of such slight service to their present possessors, that we can
hardly suppose that they were developed under the conditions which now
exist. Organs in this latter state are not strictly rudimentary, but
they are tending in this direction. Nascent organs, on the other hand,
though not fully developed, are of high service to their possessors,
and are capable of further development. Rudimentary organs are
eminently variable; and this is partly intelligible, as they are
useless, or nearly useless, and consequently are no longer subjected to
natural selection. They often become wholly suppressed. When this
occurs, they are nevertheless liable to occasional reappearance through
reversion—a circumstance well worthy of attention.
The chief agents in causing organs to become rudimentary seem to have
been disuse at that period of life when the organ is chiefly used (and
this is generally during maturity), and also inheritance at a
corresponding period of life. The term “disuse” does not relate merely
to the lessened action of muscles, but includes a diminished flow of
blood to a part or organ, from being subjected to fewer alternations of
pressure, or from becoming in any way less habitually active.
Rudiments, however, may occur in one sex of those parts which are
normally present in the other sex; and such rudiments, as we shall
hereafter see, have often originated in a way distinct from those here
referred to. In some cases, organs have been reduced by means of
natural selection, from having become injurious to the species under
changed habits of life. The process of reduction is probably often
aided through the two principles of compensation and economy of growth;
but the later stages of reduction, after disuse has done all that can
fairly be attributed to it, and when the saving to be effected by the
economy of growth would be very small (23. Some good criticisms on this
subject have been given by Messrs. Murie and Mivart, in ‘Transact.
Zoological Society,’ 1869, vol. vii. p. 92.), are difficult to
understand. The final and complete suppression of a part, already
useless and much reduced in size, in which case neither compensation
nor economy can come into play, is perhaps intelligible by the aid of
the hypothesis of pangenesis. But as the whole subject of rudimentary
organs has been discussed and illustrated in my former works (24.
‘Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication,’ vol. ii pp. 317
and 397. See also ‘Origin of Species,’ 5th Edition p. 535.), I need
here say no more on this head.
Rudiments of various muscles have been observed in many parts of the
human body (25. For instance, M. Richard (‘Annales des Sciences Nat.,’
3rd series, Zoolog. 1852, tom. xviii. p. 13) describes and figures
rudiments of what he calls the “muscle pedieux de la main,” which he
says is sometimes “infiniment petit.” Another muscle, called “le tibial
posterieur,” is generally quite absent in the hand, but appears from
time to time in a more or less rudimentary condition.); and not a few
muscles, which are regularly present in some of the lower animals can
occasionally be detected in man in a greatly reduced condition. Every
one must have noticed the power which many animals, especially horses,
possess of moving or twitching their skin; and this is effected by the
panniculus carnosus. Remnants of this muscle in an efficient state are
found in various parts of our bodies; for instance, the muscle on the
forehead, by which the eyebrows are raised. The platysma myoides, which
is well developed on the neck, belongs to this system. Prof. Turner, of
Edinburgh, has occasionally detected, as he informs me, muscular
fasciculi in five different situations, namely in the axillae, near the
scapulae, etc., all of which must be referred to the system of the
panniculus. He has also shewn (26. Prof. W. Turner, ‘Proceedings of the
Royal Society of Edinburgh,’ 1866-67, p. 65.) that the musculus
sternalis or sternalis brutorum, which is not an extension of the
rectus abdominalis, but is closely allied to the panniculus, occurred
in the proportion of about three per cent. in upwards of 600 bodies: he
adds, that this muscle affords “an excellent illustration of the
statement that occasional and rudimentary structures are especially
liable to variation in arrangement.”
Some few persons have the power of contracting the superficial muscles
on their scalps; and these muscles are in a variable and partially
rudimentary condition. M. A. de Candolle has communicated to me a
curious instance of the long-continued persistence or inheritance of
this power, as well as of its unusual development. He knows a family,
in which one member, the present head of the family, could, when a
youth, pitch several heavy books from his head by the movement of the
scalp alone; and he won wagers by performing this feat. His father,
uncle, grandfather, and his three children possess the same power to
the same unusual degree. This family became divided eight generations
ago into two branches; so that the head of the above-mentioned branch
is cousin in the seventh degree to the head of the other branch. This
distant cousin resides in another part of France; and on being asked
whether he possessed the same faculty, immediately exhibited his power.
This case offers a good illustration how persistent may be the
transmission of an absolutely useless faculty, probably derived from
our remote semi-human progenitors; since many monkeys have, and
frequently use the power, of largely moving their scalps up and down.
(27. See my ‘Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals,’ 1872, p.
144.)
The extrinsic muscles which serve to move the external ear, and the
intrinsic muscles which move the different parts, are in a rudimentary
condition in man, and they all belong to the system of the panniculus;
they are also variable in development, or at least in function. I have
seen one man who could draw the whole ear forwards; other men can draw
it upwards; another who could draw it backwards (28. Canestrini quotes
Hyrtl. (‘Annuario della Soc. dei Naturalisti,’ Modena, 1867, p. 97) to
the same effect.); and from what one of these persons told me, it is
probable that most of us, by often touching our ears, and thus
directing our attention towards them, could recover some power of
movement by repeated trials. The power of erecting and directing the
shell of the ears to the various points of the compass, is no doubt of
the highest service to many animals, as they thus perceive the
direction of danger; but I have never heard, on sufficient evidence, of
a man who possessed this power, the one which might be of use to him.
The whole external shell may be considered a rudiment, together with
the various folds and prominences (helix and anti-helix, tragus and
anti-tragus, etc.) which in the lower animals strengthen and support
the ear when erect, without adding much to its weight. Some authors,
however, suppose that the cartilage of the shell serves to transmit
vibrations to the acoustic nerve; but Mr. Toynbee (29. ‘The Diseases of
the Ear,’ by J. Toynbee, F.R.S., 1860, p. 12. A distinguished
physiologist, Prof. Preyer, informs me that he had lately been
experimenting on the function of the shell of the ear, and has come to
nearly the same conclusion as that given here.), after collecting all
the known evidence on this head, concludes that the external shell is
of no distinct use. The ears of the chimpanzee and orang are curiously
like those of man, and the proper muscles are likewise but very
slightly developed. (30. Prof. A. Macalister, ‘Annals and Magazine of
Natural History,’ vol. vii. 1871, p. 342.) I am also assured by the
keepers in the Zoological Gardens that these animals never move or
erect their ears; so that they are in an equally rudimentary condition
with those of man, as far as function is concerned. Why these animals,
as well as the progenitors of man, should have lost the power of
erecting their ears, we cannot say. It may be, though I am not
satisfied with this view, that owing to their arboreal habits and great
strength they were but little exposed to danger, and so during a
lengthened period moved their ears but little, and thus gradually lost
the power of moving them. This would be a parallel case with that of
those large and heavy birds, which, from inhabiting oceanic islands,
have not been exposed to the attacks of beasts of prey, and have
consequently lost the power of using their wings for flight. The
inability to move the ears in man and several apes is, however, partly
compensated by the freedom with which they can move the head in a
horizontal plane, so as to catch sounds from all directions. It has
been asserted that the ear of man alone possesses a lobule; but “a
rudiment of it is found in the gorilla” (31. Mr. St. George Mivart,
‘Elementary Anatomy,’ 1873, p. 396.); and, as I hear from Prof. Preyer,
it is not rarely absent in the negro.
[Fig. 2. Human Ear, modelled and drawn by Mr. Woolner. The projecting
point is labelled a.]
The celebrated sculptor, Mr. Woolner, informs me of one little
peculiarity in the external ear, which he has often observed both in
men and women, and of which he perceived the full significance. His
attention was first called to the subject whilst at work on his figure
of Puck, to which he had given pointed ears. He was thus led to examine
the ears of various monkeys, and subsequently more carefully those of
man. The peculiarity consists in a little blunt point, projecting from
the inwardly folded margin, or helix. When present, it is developed at
birth, and, according to Prof. Ludwig Meyer, more frequently in man
than in woman. Mr. Woolner made an exact model of one such case, and
sent me the accompanying drawing. (Fig. 2). These points not only
project inwards towards the centre of the ear, but often a little
outwards from its plane, so as to be visible when the head is viewed
from directly in front or behind. They are variable in size, and
somewhat in position, standing either a little higher or lower; and
they sometimes occur on one ear and not on the other. They are not
confined to mankind, for I observed a case in one of the spider-monkeys
(Ateles beelzebuth) in our Zoological Gardens; and Mr. E. Ray Lankester
informs me of another case in a chimpanzee in the gardens at Hamburg.
The helix obviously consists of the extreme margin of the ear folded
inwards; and this folding appears to be in some manner connected with
the whole external ear being permanently pressed backwards. In many
monkeys, which do not stand high in the order, as baboons and some
species of macacus (32. See also some remarks, and the drawings of the
ears of the Lemuroidea, in Messrs. Murie and Mivart’s excellent paper
in ‘Transactions of the Zoological Society,’ vol. vii. 1869, pp. 6 and
90.), the upper portion of the ear is slightly pointed, and the margin
is not at all folded inwards; but if the margin were to be thus folded,
a slight point would necessarily project inwards towards the centre,
and probably a little outwards from the plane of the ear; and this I
believe to be their origin in many cases. On the other hand, Prof. L.
Meyer, in an able paper recently published (33. ‘Über das Darwin’sche
Spitzohr,’ Archiv fur Path. Anat. und Phys., 1871, p. 485.), maintains
that the whole case is one of mere variability; and that the
projections are not real ones, but are due to the internal cartilage on
each side of the points not having been fully developed. I am quite
ready to admit that this is the correct explanation in many instances,
as in those figured by Prof. Meyer, in which there are several minute
points, or the whole margin is sinuous. I have myself seen, through the
kindness of Dr. L. Down, the ear of a microcephalous idiot, on which
there is a projection on the outside of the helix, and not on the
inward folded edge, so that this point can have no relation to a former
apex of the ear. Nevertheless in some cases, my original view, that the
points are vestiges of the tips of formerly erect and pointed ears,
still seems to me probable. I think so from the frequency of their
occurrence, and from the general correspondence in position with that
of the tip of a pointed ear. In one case, of which a photograph has
been sent me, the projection is so large, that supposing, in accordance
with Prof. Meyer’s view, the ear to be made perfect by the equal
development of the cartilage throughout the whole extent of the margin,
it would have covered fully one-third of the whole ear. Two cases have
been communicated to me, one in North America, and the other in
England, in which the upper margin is not at all folded inwards, but is
pointed, so that it closely resembles the pointed ear of an ordinary
quadruped in outline. In one of these cases, which was that of a young
child, the father compared the ear with the drawing which I have given
(34. ‘The Expression of the Emotions,’ p. 136.) of the ear of a monkey,
the Cynopithecus niger, and says that their outlines are closely
similar. If, in these two cases, the margin had been folded inwards in
the normal manner, an inward projection must have been formed. I may
add that in two other cases the outline still remains somewhat pointed,
although the margin of the upper part of the ear is normally folded
inwards—in one of them, however, very narrowly. [Fig.3. Foetus of an
Orang(?). Exact copy of a photograph, shewing the form of the ear at
this early age.] The following woodcut (No. 3) is an accurate copy of a
photograph of the foetus of an orang (kindly sent me by Dr. Nitsche),
in which it may be seen how different the pointed outline of the ear is
at this period from its adult condition, when it bears a close general
resemblance to that of man. It is evident that the folding over of the
tip of such an ear, unless it changed greatly during its further
development, would give rise to a point projecting inwards. On the
whole, it still seems to me probable that the points in question are in
some cases, both in man and apes, vestiges of a former condition.
The nictitating membrane, or third eyelid, with its accessory muscles
and other structures, is especially well developed in birds, and is of
much functional importance to them, as it can be rapidly drawn across
the whole eye-ball. It is found in some reptiles and amphibians, and in
certain fishes, as in sharks. It is fairly well developed in the two
lower divisions of the mammalian series, namely, in the monotremata and
marsupials, and in some few of the higher mammals, as in the walrus.
But in man, the quadrumana, and most other mammals, it exists, as is
admitted by all anatomists, as a mere rudiment, called the semilunar
fold. (35. Muller’s ‘Elements of Physiology,’ Eng. translat. 1842, vol.
ii. p. 1117. Owen, ‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. p. 260; ibid. on
the Walrus, ‘Proceedings of the Zoological Society,’ November 8, 1854.
See also R. Knox, ‘Great Artists and Anatomists,’ p. 106. This rudiment
apparently is somewhat larger in Negroes and Australians than in
Europeans, see Carl Vogt, ‘Lectures on Man,’ Eng. translat. p. 129.)
The sense of smell is of the highest importance to the greater number
of mammals—to some, as the ruminants, in warning them of danger; to
others, as the Carnivora, in finding their prey; to others, again, as
the wild boar, for both purposes combined. But the sense of smell is of
extremely slight service, if any, even to the dark coloured races of
men, in whom it is much more highly developed than in the white and
civilised races. (36. The account given by Humboldt of the power of
smell possessed by the natives of South America is well known, and has
been confirmed by others. M. Houzeau (‘Études sur les Facultés
Mentales,’ etc., tom. i. 1872, p. 91) asserts that he repeatedly made
experiments, and proved that Negroes and Indians could recognise
persons in the dark by their odour. Dr. W. Ogle has made some curious
observations on the connection between the power of smell and the
colouring matter of the mucous membrane of the olfactory region as well
as of the skin of the body. I have, therefore, spoken in the text of
the dark-coloured races having a finer sense of smell than the white
races. See his paper, ‘Medico-Chirurgical Transactions,’ London, vol.
liii. 1870, p. 276.) Nevertheless it does not warn them of danger, nor
guide them to their food; nor does it prevent the Esquimaux from
sleeping in the most fetid atmosphere, nor many savages from eating
half-putrid meat. In Europeans the power differs greatly in different
individuals, as I am assured by an eminent naturalist who possesses
this sense highly developed, and who has attended to the subject. Those
who believe in the principle of gradual evolution, will not readily
admit that the sense of smell in its present state was originally
acquired by man, as he now exists. He inherits the power in an
enfeebled and so far rudimentary condition, from some early progenitor,
to whom it was highly serviceable, and by whom it was continually used.
In those animals which have this sense highly developed, such as dogs
and horses, the recollection of persons and of places is strongly
associated with their odour; and we can thus perhaps understand how it
is, as Dr. Maudsley has truly remarked (37. ‘The Physiology and
Pathology of Mind,’ 2nd ed. 1868, p. 134.), that the sense of smell in
man “is singularly effective in recalling vividly the ideas and images
of forgotten scenes and places.”
Man differs conspicuously from all the other primates in being almost
naked. But a few short straggling hairs are found over the greater part
of the body in the man, and fine down on that of the woman. The
different races differ much in hairiness; and in the individuals of the
same race the hairs are highly variable, not only in abundance, but
likewise in position: thus in some Europeans the shoulders are quite
naked, whilst in others they bear thick tufts of hair. (38. Eschricht,
Über die Richtung der Haare am menschlichen Körper, Muller’s ‘Archiv
fur Anat. und Phys.’ 1837, s. 47. I shall often have to refer to this
very curious paper.) There can be little doubt that the hairs thus
scattered over the body are the rudiments of the uniform hairy coat of
the lower animals. This view is rendered all the more probable, as it
is known that fine, short, and pale-coloured hairs on the limbs and
other parts of the body, occasionally become developed into “thickset,
long, and rather coarse dark hairs,” when abnormally nourished near
old-standing inflamed surfaces. (39. Paget, ‘Lectures on Surgical
Pathology,’ 1853, vol. i. p. 71.)
I am informed by Sir James Paget that often several members of a family
have a few hairs in their eyebrows much longer than the others; so that
even this slight peculiarity seems to be inherited. These hairs, too,
seem to have their representatives; for in the chimpanzee, and in
certain species of Macacus, there are scattered hairs of considerable
length rising from the naked skin above the eyes, and corresponding to
our eyebrows; similar long hairs project from the hairy covering of the
superciliary ridges in some baboons.
The fine wool-like hair, or so-called lanugo, with which the human
foetus during the sixth month is thickly covered, offers a more curious
case. It is first developed, during the fifth month, on the eyebrows
and face, and especially round the mouth, where it is much longer than
that on the head. A moustache of this kind was observed by Eschricht
(40. Eschricht, ibid. s. 40, 47.) on a female foetus; but this is not
so surprising a circumstance as it may at first appear, for the two
sexes generally resemble each other in all external characters during
an early period of growth. The direction and arrangement of the hairs
on all parts of the foetal body are the same as in the adult, but are
subject to much variability. The whole surface, including even the
forehead and ears, is thus thickly clothed; but it is a significant
fact that the palms of the hands and the soles of the feet are quite
naked, like the inferior surfaces of all four extremities in most of
the lower animals. As this can hardly be an accidental coincidence, the
woolly covering of the foetus probably represents the first permanent
coat of hair in those mammals which are born hairy. Three or four cases
have been recorded of persons born with their whole bodies and faces
thickly covered with fine long hairs; and this strange condition is
strongly inherited, and is correlated with an abnormal condition of the
teeth. (41. See my ‘Variation of Animals and Plants under
Domestication,’ vol. ii. p. 327. Prof. Alex. Brandt has recently sent
me an additional case of a father and son, born in Russia, with these
peculiarities. I have received drawings of both from Paris.) Prof.
Alex. Brandt informs me that he has compared the hair from the face of
a man thus characterised, aged thirty-five, with the lanugo of a
foetus, and finds it quite similar in texture; therefore, as he
remarks, the case may be attributed to an arrest of development in the
hair, together with its continued growth. Many delicate children, as I
have been assured by a surgeon to a hospital for children, have their
backs covered by rather long silky hairs; and such cases probably come
under the same head.
It appears as if the posterior molar or wisdom-teeth were tending to
become rudimentary in the more civilised races of man. These teeth are
rather smaller than the other molars, as is likewise the case with the
corresponding teeth in the chimpanzee and orang; and they have only two
separate fangs. They do not cut through the gums till about the
seventeenth year, and I have been assured that they are much more
liable to decay, and are earlier lost than the other teeth; but this is
denied by some eminent dentists. They are also much more liable to
vary, both in structure and in the period of their development, than
the other teeth. (42. Dr. Webb, ‘Teeth in Man and the Anthropoid Apes,’
as quoted by Dr. C. Carter Blake in Anthropological Review, July 1867,
p. 299.) In the Melanian races, on the other hand, the wisdom-teeth are
usually furnished with three separate fangs, and are generally sound;
they also differ from the other molars in size, less than in the
Caucasian races. (43. Owen, ‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. pp.
320, 321, and 325.) Prof. Schaaffhausen accounts for this difference
between the races by “the posterior dental portion of the jaw being
always shortened” in those that are civilised (44. ‘On the Primitive
Form of the Skull,’ Eng. translat., in ‘Anthropological Review,’ Oct.
1868, p. 426), and this shortening may, I presume, be attributed to
civilised men habitually feeding on soft, cooked food, and thus using
their jaws less. I am informed by Mr. Brace that it is becoming quite a
common practice in the United States to remove some of the molar teeth
of children, as the jaw does not grow large enough for the perfect
development of the normal number. (45. Prof. Montegazza writes to me
from Florence, that he has lately been studying the last molar teeth in
the different races of man, and has come to the same conclusion as that
given in my text, viz., that in the higher or civilised races they are
on the road towards atrophy or elimination.)
With respect to the alimentary canal, I have met with an account of
only a single rudiment, namely the vermiform appendage of the caecum.
The caecum is a branch or diverticulum of the intestine, ending in a
cul-de-sac, and is extremely long in many of the lower
vegetable-feeding mammals. In the marsupial koala it is actually more
than thrice as long as the whole body. (46. Owen, ‘Anatomy of
Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. pp. 416, 434, 441.) It is sometimes produced
into a long gradually-tapering point, and is sometimes constricted in
parts. It appears as if, in consequence of changed diet or habits, the
caecum had become much shortened in various animals, the vermiform
appendage being left as a rudiment of the shortened part. That this
appendage is a rudiment, we may infer from its small size, and from the
evidence which Prof. Canestrini (47. ‘Annuario della Soc. d. Nat.’
Modena, 1867, p. 94.) has collected of its variability in man. It is
occasionally quite absent, or again is largely developed. The passage
is sometimes completely closed for half or two-thirds of its length,
with the terminal part consisting of a flattened solid expansion. In
the orang this appendage is long and convoluted: in man it arises from
the end of the short caecum, and is commonly from four to five inches
in length, being only about the third of an inch in diameter. Not only
is it useless, but it is sometimes the cause of death, of which fact I
have lately heard two instances: this is due to small hard bodies, such
as seeds, entering the passage, and causing inflammation. (48. M. C.
Martins (“De l’Unité Organique,” in ‘Revue des Deux Mondes,’ June 15,
1862, p. 16) and Haeckel (‘Generelle Morphologie,’ B. ii. s. 278), have
both remarked on the singular fact of this rudiment sometimes causing
death.)
In some of the lower Quadrumana, in the Lemuridae and Carnivora, as
well as in many marsupials, there is a passage near the lower end of
the humerus, called the supra-condyloid foramen, through which the
great nerve of the fore limb and often the great artery pass. Now in
the humerus of man, there is generally a trace of this passage, which
is sometimes fairly well developed, being formed by a depending
hook-like process of bone, completed by a band of ligament. Dr.
Struthers (49. With respect to inheritance, see Dr. Struthers in the
‘Lancet,’ Feb. 15, 1873, and another important paper, ibid. Jan. 24,
1863, p. 83. Dr. Knox, as I am informed, was the first anatomist who
drew attention to this peculiar structure in man; see his ‘Great
Artists and Anatomists,’ p. 63. See also an important memoir on this
process by Dr. Gruber, in the ‘Bulletin de l’Acad. Imp. de St.
Petersbourg,’ tom. xii. 1867, p. 448.), who has closely attended to the
subject, has now shewn that this peculiarity is sometimes inherited, as
it has occurred in a father, and in no less than four out of his seven
children. When present, the great nerve invariably passes through it;
and this clearly indicates that it is the homologue and rudiment of the
supra-condyloid foramen of the lower animals. Prof. Turner estimates,
as he informs me, that it occurs in about one per cent. of recent
skeletons. But if the occasional development of this structure in man
is, as seems probable, due to reversion, it is a return to a very
ancient state of things, because in the higher Quadrumana it is absent.
There is another foramen or perforation in the humerus, occasionally
present in man, which may be called the inter-condyloid. This occurs,
but not constantly, in various anthropoid and other apes (50. Mr. St.
George Mivart, ‘Transactions Phil. Soc.’ 1867, p. 310.), and likewise
in many of the lower animals. It is remarkable that this perforation
seems to have been present in man much more frequently during ancient
times than recently. Mr. Busk (51. “On the Caves of Gibraltar,”
‘Transactions of the International Congress of Prehistoric
Archaeology,’ Third Session, 1869, p. 159. Prof. Wyman has lately shewn
(Fourth Annual Report, Peabody Museum, 1871, p. 20), that this
perforation is present in thirty-one per cent. of some human remains
from ancient mounds in the Western United States, and in Florida. It
frequently occurs in the negro.) has collected the following evidence
on this head: Prof. Broca “noticed the perforation in four and a half
per cent. of the arm-bones collected in the ‘Cimetière du Sud,’ at
Paris; and in the Grotto of Orrony, the contents of which are referred
to the Bronze period, as many as eight humeri out of thirty-two were
perforated; but this extraordinary proportion, he thinks, might be due
to the cavern having been a sort of ‘family vault.’ Again, M. Dupont
found thirty per cent. of perforated bones in the caves of the Valley
of the Lesse, belonging to the Reindeer period; whilst M. Leguay, in a
sort of dolmen at Argenteuil, observed twenty-five per cent. to be
perforated; and M. Pruner-Bey found twenty-six per cent. in the same
condition in bones from Vaureal. Nor should it be left unnoticed that
M. Pruner-Bey states that this condition is common in Guanche
skeletons.” It is an interesting fact that ancient races, in this and
several other cases, more frequently present structures which resemble
those of the lower animals than do the modern. One chief cause seems to
be that the ancient races stand somewhat nearer in the long line of
descent to their remote animal-like progenitors.
In man, the os coccyx, together with certain other vertebrae hereafter
to be described, though functionless as a tail, plainly represent this
part in other vertebrate animals. At an early embryonic period it is
free, and projects beyond the lower extremities; as may be seen in the
drawing (Fig. 1.) of a human embryo. Even after birth it has been
known, in certain rare and anomalous cases (52. Quatrefages has lately
collected the evidence on this subject. ‘Revue des Cours
Scientifiques,’ 1867-1868, p. 625. In 1840 Fleischmann exhibited a
human foetus bearing a free tail, which, as is not always the case,
included vertebral bodies; and this tail was critically examined by the
many anatomists present at the meeting of naturalists at Erlangen (see
Marshall in Niederlandischen Archiv für Zoologie, December 1871).), to
form a small external rudiment of a tail. The os coccyx is short,
usually including only four vertebrae, all anchylosed together: and
these are in a rudimentary condition, for they consist, with the
exception of the basal one, of the centrum alone. (53. Owen, ‘On the
Nature of Limbs,’ 1849, p. 114.) They are furnished with some small
muscles; one of which, as I am informed by Prof. Turner, has been
expressly described by Theile as a rudimentary repetition of the
extensor of the tail, a muscle which is so largely developed in many
mammals.
The spinal cord in man extends only as far downwards as the last dorsal
or first lumbar vertebra; but a thread-like structure (the filum
terminale) runs down the axis of the sacral part of the spinal canal,
and even along the back of the coccygeal bones. The upper part of this
filament, as Prof. Turner informs me, is undoubtedly homologous with
the spinal cord; but the lower part apparently consists merely of the
pia mater, or vascular investing membrane. Even in this case the os
coccyx may be said to possess a vestige of so important a structure as
the spinal cord, though no longer enclosed within a bony canal. The
following fact, for which I am also indebted to Prof. Turner, shews how
closely the os coccyx corresponds with the true tail in the lower
animals: Luschka has recently discovered at the extremity of the
coccygeal bones a very peculiar convoluted body, which is continuous
with the middle sacral artery; and this discovery led Krause and Meyer
to examine the tail of a monkey (Macacus), and of a cat, in both of
which they found a similarly convoluted body, though not at the
extremity.
The reproductive system offers various rudimentary structures; but
these differ in one important respect from the foregoing cases. Here we
are not concerned with the vestige of a part which does not belong to
the species in an efficient state, but with a part efficient in the one
sex, and represented in the other by a mere rudiment. Nevertheless, the
occurrence of such rudiments is as difficult to explain, on the belief
of the separate creation of each species, as in the foregoing cases.
Hereafter I shall have to recur to these rudiments, and shall shew that
their presence generally depends merely on inheritance, that is, on
parts acquired by one sex having been partially transmitted to the
other. I will in this place only give some instances of such rudiments.
It is well known that in the males of all mammals, including man,
rudimentary mammae exist. These in several instances have become well
developed, and have yielded a copious supply of milk. Their essential
identity in the two sexes is likewise shewn by their occasional
sympathetic enlargement in both during an attack of the measles. The
vesicula prostatica, which has been observed in many male mammals, is
now universally acknowledged to be the homologue of the female uterus,
together with the connected passage. It is impossible to read
Leuckart’s able description of this organ, and his reasoning, without
admitting the justness of his conclusion. This is especially clear in
the case of those mammals in which the true female uterus bifurcates,
for in the males of these the vesicula likewise bifurcates. (54.
Leuckart, in Todd’s ‘Cyclopaedia of Anatomy’ 1849-52, vol. iv. p. 1415.
In man this organ is only from three to six lines in length, but, like
so many other rudimentary parts, it is variable in development as well
as in other characters.) Some other rudimentary structures belonging to
the reproductive system might have been here adduced. (55. See, on this
subject, Owen, ‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. pp. 675, 676, 706.)
The bearing of the three great classes of facts now given is
unmistakeable. But it would be superfluous fully to recapitulate the
line of argument given in detail in my ‘Origin of Species.’ The
homological construction of the whole frame in the members of the same
class is intelligible, if we admit their descent from a common
progenitor, together with their subsequent adaptation to diversified
conditions. On any other view, the similarity of pattern between the
hand of a man or monkey, the foot of a horse, the flipper of a seal,
the wing of a bat, etc., is utterly inexplicable. (56. Prof. Bianconi,
in a recently published work, illustrated by admirable engravings (‘La
Théorie Darwinienne et la création dite indépendante,’ 1874),
endeavours to shew that homological structures, in the above and other
cases, can be fully explained on mechanical principles, in accordance
with their uses. No one has shewn so well, how admirably such
structures are adapted for their final purpose; and this adaptation
can, as I believe, be explained through natural selection. In
considering the wing of a bat, he brings forward (p. 218) what appears
to me (to use Auguste Comte’s words) a mere metaphysical principle,
namely, the preservation “in its integrity of the mammalian nature of
the animal.” In only a few cases does he discuss rudiments, and then
only those parts which are partially rudimentary, such as the little
hoofs of the pig and ox, which do not touch the ground; these he shews
clearly to be of service to the animal. It is unfortunate that he did
not consider such cases as the minute teeth, which never cut through
the jaw in the ox, or the mammae of male quadrupeds, or the wings of
certain beetles, existing under the soldered wing-covers, or the
vestiges of the pistil and stamens in various flowers, and many other
such cases. Although I greatly admire Prof. Bianconi’s work, yet the
belief now held by most naturalists seems to me left unshaken, that
homological structures are inexplicable on the principle of mere
adaptation.) It is no scientific explanation to assert that they have
all been formed on the same ideal plan. With respect to development, we
can clearly understand, on the principle of variations supervening at a
rather late embryonic period, and being inherited at a corresponding
period, how it is that the embryos of wonderfully different forms
should still retain, more or less perfectly, the structure of their
common progenitor. No other explanation has ever been given of the
marvellous fact that the embryos of a man, dog, seal, bat, reptile,
etc., can at first hardly be distinguished from each other. In order to
understand the existence of rudimentary organs, we have only to suppose
that a former progenitor possessed the parts in question in a perfect
state, and that under changed habits of life they became greatly
reduced, either from simple disuse, or through the natural selection of
those individuals which were least encumbered with a superfluous part,
aided by the other means previously indicated.
Thus we can understand how it has come to pass that man and all other
vertebrate animals have been constructed on the same general model, why
they pass through the same early stages of development, and why they
retain certain rudiments in common. Consequently we ought frankly to
admit their community of descent: to take any other view, is to admit
that our own structure, and that of all the animals around us, is a
mere snare laid to entrap our judgment. This conclusion is greatly
strengthened, if we look to the members of the whole animal series, and
consider the evidence derived from their affinities or classification,
their geographical distribution and geological succession. It is only
our natural prejudice, and that arrogance which made our forefathers
declare that they were descended from demi-gods, which leads us to
demur to this conclusion. But the time will before long come, when it
will be thought wonderful that naturalists, who were well acquainted
with the comparative structure and development of man, and other
mammals, should have believed that each was the work of a separate act
of creation.
CHAPTER II.
ON THE MANNER OF DEVELOPMENT OF MAN FROM SOME LOWER FORM.
Variability of body and mind in man—Inheritance—Causes of
variability—Laws of variation the same in man as in the lower
animals—Direct action of the conditions of life—Effects of the
increased use and disuse of parts—Arrested
development—Reversion—Correlated variation—Rate of increase—Checks to
increase—Natural selection—Man the most dominant animal in the
world—Importance of his corporeal structure—The causes which have led
to his becoming erect—Consequent changes of structure—Decrease in size
of the canine teeth—Increased size and altered shape of the
skull—Nakedness —Absence of a tail—Defenceless condition of man.
It is manifest that man is now subject to much variability. No two
individuals of the same race are quite alike. We may compare millions
of faces, and each will be distinct. There is an equally great amount
of diversity in the proportions and dimensions of the various parts of
the body; the length of the legs being one of the most variable points.
(1. ‘Investigations in Military and Anthropological Statistics of
American Soldiers,’ by B.A. Gould, 1869, p. 256.) Although in some
quarters of the world an elongated skull, and in other quarters a short
skull prevails, yet there is great diversity of shape even within the
limits of the same race, as with the aborigines of America and South
Australia—the latter a race “probably as pure and homogeneous in blood,
customs, and language as any in existence”—and even with the
inhabitants of so confined an area as the Sandwich Islands. (2. With
respect to the “Cranial forms of the American aborigines,” see Dr.
Aitken Meigs in ‘Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci.’ Philadelphia, May 1868. On the
Australians, see Huxley, in Lyell’s ‘Antiquity of Man,’ 1863, p. 87. On
the Sandwich Islanders, Prof. J. Wyman, ‘Observations on Crania,’
Boston, 1868, p. 18.) An eminent dentist assures me that there is
nearly as much diversity in the teeth as in the features. The chief
arteries so frequently run in abnormal courses, that it has been found
useful for surgical purposes to calculate from 1040 corpses how often
each course prevails. (3. ‘Anatomy of the Arteries,’ by R. Quain.
Preface, vol. i. 1844.) The muscles are eminently variable: thus those
of the foot were found by Prof. Turner (4. ‘Transactions of the Royal
Society of Edinburgh,’ vol. xxiv. pp. 175, 189.) not to be strictly
alike in any two out of fifty bodies; and in some the deviations were
considerable. He adds, that the power of performing the appropriate
movements must have been modified in accordance with the several
deviations. Mr. J. Wood has recorded (5. ‘Proceedings Royal Society,’
1867, p. 544; also 1868, pp. 483, 524. There is a previous paper, 1866,
p. 229.) the occurrence of 295 muscular variations in thirty-six
subjects, and in another set of the same number no less than 558
variations, those occurring on both sides of the body being only
reckoned as one. In the last set, not one body out of the thirty-six
was “found totally wanting in departures from the standard descriptions
of the muscular system given in anatomical text books.” A single body
presented the extraordinary number of twenty-five distinct
abnormalities. The same muscle sometimes varies in many ways: thus
Prof. Macalister describes (6. ‘Proc. R. Irish Academy,’ vol. x. 1868,
p. 141.) no less than twenty distinct variations in the palmaris
accessorius.
The famous old anatomist, Wolff (7. ‘Act. Acad. St. Petersburg,’ 1778,
part ii. p. 217.), insists that the internal viscera are more variable
than the external parts: Nulla particula est quae non aliter et aliter
in aliis se habeat hominibus. He has even written a treatise on the
choice of typical examples of the viscera for representation. A
discussion on the beau-ideal of the liver, lungs, kidneys, etc., as of
the human face divine, sounds strange in our ears.
The variability or diversity of the mental faculties in men of the same
race, not to mention the greater differences between the men of
distinct races, is so notorious that not a word need here be said. So
it is with the lower animals. All who have had charge of menageries
admit this fact, and we see it plainly in our dogs and other domestic
animals. Brehm especially insists that each individual monkey of those
which he kept tame in Africa had its own peculiar disposition and
temper: he mentions one baboon remarkable for its high intelligence;
and the keepers in the Zoological Gardens pointed out to me a monkey,
belonging to the New World division, equally remarkable for
intelligence. Rengger, also, insists on the diversity in the various
mental characters of the monkeys of the same species which he kept in
Paraguay; and this diversity, as he adds, is partly innate, and partly
the result of the manner in which they have been treated or educated.
(8. Brehm, ‘Thierleben,’ B. i. ss. 58, 87. Rengger, ‘Säugethiere von
Paraguay,’ s. 57.)
I have elsewhere (9. ‘Variation of Animals and Plants under
Domestication,’ vol. ii. chap. xii.) so fully discussed the subject of
Inheritance, that I need here add hardly anything. A greater number of
facts have been collected with respect to the transmission of the most
trifling, as well as of the most important characters in man, than in
any of the lower animals; though the facts are copious enough with
respect to the latter. So in regard to mental qualities, their
transmission is manifest in our dogs, horses, and other domestic
animals. Besides special tastes and habits, general intelligence,
courage, bad and good temper, etc., are certainly transmitted. With man
we see similar facts in almost every family; and we now know, through
the admirable labours of Mr. Galton (10. ‘Hereditary Genius: an Inquiry
into its Laws and Consequences,’ 1869.), that genius which implies a
wonderfully complex combination of high faculties, tends to be
inherited; and, on the other hand, it is too certain that insanity and
deteriorated mental powers likewise run in families.
With respect to the causes of variability, we are in all cases very
ignorant; but we can see that in man as in the lower animals, they
stand in some relation to the conditions to which each species has been
exposed, during several generations. Domesticated animals vary more
than those in a state of nature; and this is apparently due to the
diversified and changing nature of the conditions to which they have
been subjected. In this respect the different races of man resemble
domesticated animals, and so do the individuals of the same race, when
inhabiting a very wide area, like that of America. We see the influence
of diversified conditions in the more civilised nations; for the
members belonging to different grades of rank, and following different
occupations, present a greater range of character than do the members
of barbarous nations. But the uniformity of savages has often been
exaggerated, and in some cases can hardly be said to exist. (11. Mr.
Bates remarks (‘The Naturalist on the Amazons,’ 1863, vol. ii p. 159),
with respect to the Indians of the same South American tribe, “no two
of them were at all similar in the shape of the head; one man had an
oval visage with fine features, and another was quite Mongolian in
breadth and prominence of cheek, spread of nostrils, and obliquity of
eyes.”) It is, nevertheless, an error to speak of man, even if we look
only to the conditions to which he has been exposed, as “far more
domesticated” (12. Blumenbach, ‘Treatises on Anthropology.’ Eng.
translat., 1865, p. 205.) than any other animal. Some savage races,
such as the Australians, are not exposed to more diversified conditions
than are many species which have a wide range. In another and much more
important respect, man differs widely from any strictly domesticated
animal; for his breeding has never long been controlled, either by
methodical or unconscious selection. No race or body of men has been so
completely subjugated by other men, as that certain individuals should
be preserved, and thus unconsciously selected, from somehow excelling
in utility to their masters. Nor have certain male and female
individuals been intentionally picked out and matched, except in the
well-known case of the Prussian grenadiers; and in this case man
obeyed, as might have been expected, the law of methodical selection;
for it is asserted that many tall men were reared in the villages
inhabited by the grenadiers and their tall wives. In Sparta, also, a
form of selection was followed, for it was enacted that all children
should be examined shortly after birth; the well-formed and vigorous
being preserved, the others left to perish. (13. Mitford’s ‘History of
Greece,’ vol. i. p. 282. It appears also from a passage in Xenophon’s
‘Memorabilia,’ B. ii. 4 (to which my attention has been called by the
Rev. J.N. Hoare), that it was a well recognised principle with the
Greeks, that men ought to select their wives with a view to the health
and vigour of their children. The Grecian poet, Theognis, who lived 550
B.C., clearly saw how important selection, if carefully applied, would
be for the improvement of mankind. He saw, likewise, that wealth often
checks the proper action of sexual selection. He thus writes:
“With kine and horses, Kurnus! we proceed
By reasonable rules, and choose a breed
For profit and increase, at any price:
Of a sound stock, without defect or vice.
But, in the daily matches that we make,
The price is everything: for money’s sake,
Men marry: women are in marriage given
The churl or ruffian, that in wealth has thriven,
May match his offspring with the proudest race:
Thus everything is mix’d, noble and base!
If then in outward manner, form, and mind,
You find us a degraded, motley kind,
Wonder no more, my friend! the cause is plain,
And to lament the consequence is vain.”
(The Works of J. Hookham Frere, vol. ii. 1872, p. 334.))
If we consider all the races of man as forming a single species, his
range is enormous; but some separate races, as the Americans and
Polynesians, have very wide ranges. It is a well-known law that
widely-ranging species are much more variable than species with
restricted ranges; and the variability of man may with more truth be
compared with that of widely-ranging species, than with that of
domesticated animals.
Not only does variability appear to be induced in man and the lower
animals by the same general causes, but in both the same parts of the
body are affected in a closely analogous manner. This has been proved
in such full detail by Godron and Quatrefages, that I need here only
refer to their works. (14. Godron, ‘De l’Espèce,’ 1859, tom. ii. livre
3. Quatrefages, ‘Unité de l’Espèce Humaine,’ 1861. Also Lectures on
Anthropology, given in the ‘Revue des Cours Scientifiques,’ 1866-1868.)
Monstrosities, which graduate into slight variations, are likewise so
similar in man and the lower animals, that the same classification and
the same terms can be used for both, as has been shewn by Isidore
Geoffroy St.-Hilaire. (15. ‘Hist. Gen. et Part. des Anomalies de
l’Organisation,’ in three volumes, tom. i. 1832.) In my work on the
variation of domestic animals, I have attempted to arrange in a rude
fashion the laws of variation under the following heads:—The direct and
definite action of changed conditions, as exhibited by all or nearly
all the individuals of the same species, varying in the same manner
under the same circumstances. The effects of the long-continued use or
disuse of parts. The cohesion of homologous parts. The variability of
multiple parts. Compensation of growth; but of this law I have found no
good instance in the case of man. The effects of the mechanical
pressure of one part on another; as of the pelvis on the cranium of the
infant in the womb. Arrests of development, leading to the diminution
or suppression of parts. The reappearance of long-lost characters
through reversion. And lastly, correlated variation. All these
so-called laws apply equally to man and the lower animals; and most of
them even to plants. It would be superfluous here to discuss all of
them (16. I have fully discussed these laws in my ‘Variation of Animals
and Plants under Domestication,’ vol. ii. chap. xxii. and xxiii. M.
J.P. Durand has lately (1868) published a valuable essay, ‘De
l’Influence des Milieux,’ etc. He lays much stress, in the case of
plants, on the nature of the soil.); but several are so important, that
they must be treated at considerable length.
THE DIRECT AND DEFINITE ACTION OF CHANGED CONDITIONS.
This is a most perplexing subject. It cannot be denied that changed
conditions produce some, and occasionally a considerable effect, on
organisms of all kinds; and it seems at first probable that if
sufficient time were allowed this would be the invariable result. But I
have failed to obtain clear evidence in favour of this conclusion; and
valid reasons may be urged on the other side, at least as far as the
innumerable structures are concerned, which are adapted for special
ends. There can, however, be no doubt that changed conditions induce an
almost indefinite amount of fluctuating variability, by which the whole
organisation is rendered in some degree plastic.
In the United States, above 1,000,000 soldiers, who served in the late
war, were measured, and the States in which they were born and reared
were recorded. (17. ‘Investigations in Military and Anthrop.
Statistics,’ etc., 1869, by B.A. Gould, pp. 93, 107, 126, 131, 134.)
From this astonishing number of observations it is proved that local
influences of some kind act directly on stature; and we further learn
that “the State where the physical growth has in great measure taken
place, and the State of birth, which indicates the ancestry, seem to
exert a marked influence on the stature.” For instance, it is
established, “that residence in the Western States, during the years of
growth, tends to produce increase of stature.” On the other hand, it is
certain that with sailors, their life delays growth, as shewn “by the
great difference between the statures of soldiers and sailors at the
ages of seventeen and eighteen years.” Mr. B.A. Gould endeavoured to
ascertain the nature of the influences which thus act on stature; but
he arrived only at negative results, namely that they did not relate to
climate, the elevation of the land, soil, nor even “in any controlling
degree” to the abundance or the need of the comforts of life. This
latter conclusion is directly opposed to that arrived at by Villerme,
from the statistics of the height of the conscripts in different parts
of France. When we compare the differences in stature between the
Polynesian chiefs and the lower orders within the same islands, or
between the inhabitants of the fertile volcanic and low barren coral
islands of the same ocean (18. For the Polynesians, see Prichard’s
‘Physical History of Mankind,’ vol. v. 1847, pp. 145, 283. Also Godron,
‘De l’Espèce,’ tom. ii. p. 289. There is also a remarkable difference
in appearance between the closely-allied Hindoos inhabiting the Upper
Ganges and Bengal; see Elphinstone’s ‘History of India,’ vol. i. p.
324.) or again between the Fuegians on the eastern and western shores
of their country, where the means of subsistence are very different, it
is scarcely possible to avoid the conclusion that better food and
greater comfort do influence stature. But the preceding statements shew
how difficult it is to arrive at any precise result. Dr. Beddoe has
lately proved that, with the inhabitants of Britain, residence in towns
and certain occupations have a deteriorating influence on height; and
he infers that the result is to a certain extent inherited, as is
likewise the case in the United States. Dr. Beddoe further believes
that wherever a “race attains its maximum of physical development, it
rises highest in energy and moral vigour.” (19. ‘Memoirs,
Anthropological Society,’ vol. iii. 1867-69, pp. 561, 565, 567.)
Whether external conditions produce any other direct effect on man is
not known. It might have been expected that differences of climate
would have had a marked influence, inasmuch as the lungs and kidneys
are brought into activity under a low temperature, and the liver and
skin under a high one. (20. Dr. Brakenridge, ‘Theory of Diathesis,’
‘Medical Times,’ June 19 and July 17, 1869.) It was formerly thought
that the colour of the skin and the character of the hair were
determined by light or heat; and although it can hardly be denied that
some effect is thus produced, almost all observers now agree that the
effect has been very small, even after exposure during many ages. But
this subject will be more properly discussed when we treat of the
different races of mankind. With our domestic animals there are grounds
for believing that cold and damp directly affect the growth of the
hair; but I have not met with any evidence on this head in the case of
man.
EFFECTS OF THE INCREASED USE AND DISUSE OF A PARTS.
It is well known that use strengthens the muscles in the individual,
and complete disuse, or the destruction of the proper nerve, weakens
them. When the eye is destroyed, the optic nerve often becomes
atrophied. When an artery is tied, the lateral channels increase not
only in diameter, but in the thickness and strength of their coats.
When one kidney ceases to act from disease, the other increases in
size, and does double work. Bones increase not only in thickness, but
in length, from carrying a greater weight. (21. I have given
authorities for these several statements in my ‘Variation of Animals
and Plants under Domestication,’ vol. ii. pp. 297-300. Dr. Jaeger,
“Über das Langenwachsthum der Knochen,” ‘Jenäischen Zeitschrift,’ B. v.
Heft. i.) Different occupations, habitually followed, lead to changed
proportions in various parts of the body. Thus it was ascertained by
the United States Commission (22. ‘Investigations,’ etc., by B.A.
Gould, 1869, p. 288.) that the legs of the sailors employed in the late
war were longer by 0.217 of an inch than those of the soldiers, though
the sailors were on an average shorter men; whilst their arms were
shorter by 1.09 of an inch, and therefore, out of proportion, shorter
in relation to their lesser height. This shortness of the arms is
apparently due to their greater use, and is an unexpected result: but
sailors chiefly use their arms in pulling, and not in supporting
weights. With sailors, the girth of the neck and the depth of the
instep are greater, whilst the circumference of the chest, waist, and
hips is less, than in soldiers.
Whether the several foregoing modifications would become hereditary, if
the same habits of life were followed during many generations, is not
known, but it is probable. Rengger (23. ‘Säugethiere von Paraguay,’
1830, s. 4.) attributes the thin legs and thick arms of the Payaguas
Indians to successive generations having passed nearly their whole
lives in canoes, with their lower extremities motionless. Other writers
have come to a similar conclusion in analogous cases. According to
Cranz (24. ‘History of Greenland,’ Eng. translat., 1767, vol. i. p.
230.), who lived for a long time with the Esquimaux, “the natives
believe that ingenuity and dexterity in seal-catching (their highest
art and virtue) is hereditary; there is really something in it, for the
son of a celebrated seal-catcher will distinguish himself, though he
lost his father in childhood.” But in this case it is mental aptitude,
quite as much as bodily structure, which appears to be inherited. It is
asserted that the hands of English labourers are at birth larger than
those of the gentry. (25. ‘Intermarriage,’ by Alex. Walker, 1838, p.
377.) From the correlation which exists, at least in some cases (26.
‘The Variation of Animals under Domestication,’ vol. i. p. 173.),
between the development of the extremities and of the jaws, it is
possible that in those classes which do not labour much with their
hands and feet, the jaws would be reduced in size from this cause. That
they are generally smaller in refined and civilised men than in
hard-working men or savages, is certain. But with savages, as Mr.
Herbert Spencer (27. ‘Principles of Biology,’ vol. i. p. 455.) has
remarked, the greater use of the jaws in chewing coarse, uncooked food,
would act in a direct manner on the masticatory muscles, and on the
bones to which they are attached. In infants, long before birth, the
skin on the soles of the feet is thicker than on any other part of the
body; (28. Paget, ‘Lectures on Surgical Pathology,’ vol. ii, 1853, p.
209.) and it can hardly be doubted that this is due to the inherited
effects of pressure during a long series of generations.
It is familiar to every one that watchmakers and engravers are liable
to be short-sighted, whilst men living much out of doors, and
especially savages, are generally long-sighted. (29. It is a singular
and unexpected fact that sailors are inferior to landsmen in their mean
distance of distinct vision. Dr. B.A. Gould (‘Sanitary Memoirs of the
War of the Rebellion,’ 1869, p. 530), has proved this to be the case;
and he accounts for it by the ordinary range of vision in sailors being
“restricted to the length of the vessel and the height of the masts.”)
Short-sight and long-sight certainly tend to be inherited. (30. ‘The
Variation of Animals under Domestication,’ vol. i. p. 8.) The
inferiority of Europeans, in comparison with savages, in eyesight and
in the other senses, is no doubt the accumulated and transmitted effect
of lessened use during many generations; for Rengger (31. ‘Säugethiere
von Paraguay,’ s. 8, 10. I have had good opportunities for observing
the extraordinary power of eyesight in the Fuegians. See also Lawrence
(‘Lectures on Physiology,’ etc., 1822, p. 404) on this same subject. M.
Giraud-Teulon has recently collected (‘Revue des Cours Scientifiques,’
1870, p. 625) a large and valuable body of evidence proving that the
cause of short-sight, “C’est le travail assidu, de près.”) states that
he has repeatedly observed Europeans, who had been brought up and spent
their whole lives with the wild Indians, who nevertheless did not equal
them in the sharpness of their senses. The same naturalist observes
that the cavities in the skull for the reception of the several
sense-organs are larger in the American aborigines than in Europeans;
and this probably indicates a corresponding difference in the
dimensions of the organs themselves. Blumenbach has also remarked on
the large size of the nasal cavities in the skulls of the American
aborigines, and connects this fact with their remarkably acute power of
smell. The Mongolians of the plains of northern Asia, according to
Pallas, have wonderfully perfect senses; and Prichard believes that the
great breadth of their skulls across the zygomas follows from their
highly-developed sense organs. (32. Prichard, ‘Physical History of
Mankind,’ on the authority of Blumenbach, vol. i. 1851, p. 311; for the
statement by Pallas, vol. iv. 1844, p. 407.)
The Quechua Indians inhabit the lofty plateaux of Peru; and Alcide
d’Orbigny states (33. Quoted by Prichard, ‘Researches into the Physical
History of Mankind,’ vol. v. p. 463.) that, from continually breathing
a highly rarefied atmosphere, they have acquired chests and lungs of
extraordinary dimensions. The cells, also, of the lungs are larger and
more numerous than in Europeans. These observations have been doubted,
but Mr. D. Forbes carefully measured many Aymaras, an allied race,
living at the height of between 10,000 and 15,000 feet; and he informs
me (34. Mr. Forbes’ valuable paper is now published in the ‘Journal of
the Ethnological Society of London,’ new series, vol. ii. 1870, p.193.)
that they differ conspicuously from the men of all other races seen by
him in the circumference and length of their bodies. In his table of
measurements, the stature of each man is taken at 1000, and the other
measurements are reduced to this standard. It is here seen that the
extended arms of the Aymaras are shorter than those of Europeans, and
much shorter than those of Negroes. The legs are likewise shorter; and
they present this remarkable peculiarity, that in every Aymara
measured, the femur is actually shorter than the tibia. On an average,
the length of the femur to that of the tibia is as 211 to 252; whilst
in two Europeans, measured at the same time, the femora to the tibiae
were as 244 to 230; and in three Negroes as 258 to 241. The humerus is
likewise shorter relatively to the forearm. This shortening of that
part of the limb which is nearest to the body, appears to be, as
suggested to me by Mr. Forbes, a case of compensation in relation with
the greatly increased length of the trunk. The Aymaras present some
other singular points of structure, for instance, the very small
projection of the heel.
These men are so thoroughly acclimatised to their cold and lofty abode,
that when formerly carried down by the Spaniards to the low eastern
plains, and when now tempted down by high wages to the gold-washings,
they suffer a frightful rate of mortality. Nevertheless Mr. Forbes
found a few pure families which had survived during two generations:
and he observed that they still inherited their characteristic
peculiarities. But it was manifest, even without measurement, that
these peculiarities had all decreased; and on measurement, their bodies
were found not to be so much elongated as those of the men on the high
plateau; whilst their femora had become somewhat lengthened, as had
their tibiae, although in a less degree. The actual measurements may be
seen by consulting Mr. Forbes’s memoir. From these observations, there
can, I think, be no doubt that residence during many generations at a
great elevation tends, both directly and indirectly, to induce
inherited modifications in the proportions of the body. (35. Dr.
Wilckens (‘Landwirthschaft. Wochenblatt,’ No. 10, 1869) has lately
published an interesting essay shewing how domestic animals, which live
in mountainous regions, have their frames modified.)
Although man may not have been much modified during the latter stages
of his existence through the increased or decreased use of parts, the
facts now given shew that his liability in this respect has not been
lost; and we positively know that the same law holds good with the
lower animals. Consequently we may infer that when at a remote epoch
the progenitors of man were in a transitional state, and were changing
from quadrupeds into bipeds, natural selection would probably have been
greatly aided by the inherited effects of the increased or diminished
use of the different parts of the body.
ARRESTS OF DEVELOPMENT.
There is a difference between arrested development and arrested growth,
for parts in the former state continue to grow whilst still retaining
their early condition. Various monstrosities come under this head; and
some, as a cleft palate, are known to be occasionally inherited. It
will suffice for our purpose to refer to the arrested brain-development
of microcephalous idiots, as described in Vogt’s memoir. (36. ‘Mémoire
sur les Microcephales,’ 1867, pp. 50, 125, 169, 171, 184-198.) Their
skulls are smaller, and the convolutions of the brain are less complex
than in normal men. The frontal sinus, or the projection over the
eye-brows, is largely developed, and the jaws are prognathous to an
“effrayant” degree; so that these idiots somewhat resemble the lower
types of mankind. Their intelligence, and most of their mental
faculties, are extremely feeble. They cannot acquire the power of
speech, and are wholly incapable of prolonged attention, but are much
given to imitation. They are strong and remarkably active, continually
gambolling and jumping about, and making grimaces. They often ascend
stairs on all-fours; and are curiously fond of climbing up furniture or
trees. We are thus reminded of the delight shewn by almost all boys in
climbing trees; and this again reminds us how lambs and kids,
originally alpine animals, delight to frisk on any hillock, however
small. Idiots also resemble the lower animals in some other respects;
thus several cases are recorded of their carefully smelling every
mouthful of food before eating it. One idiot is described as often
using his mouth in aid of his hands, whilst hunting for lice. They are
often filthy in their habits, and have no sense of decency; and several
cases have been published of their bodies being remarkably hairy. (37.
Prof. Laycock sums up the character of brute-like idiots by calling
them “theroid;” ‘Journal of Mental Science,’ July 1863. Dr. Scott (‘The
Deaf and Dumb,’ 2nd ed. 1870, p. 10) has often observed the imbecile
smelling their food. See, on this same subject, and on the hairiness of
idiots, Dr. Maudsley, ‘Body and Mind,’ 1870, pp. 46-51. Pinel has also
given a striking case of hairiness in an idiot.)
REVERSION.
Many of the cases to be here given, might have been introduced under
the last heading. When a structure is arrested in its development, but
still continues growing, until it closely resembles a corresponding
structure in some lower and adult member of the same group, it may in
one sense be considered as a case of reversion. The lower members in a
group give us some idea how the common progenitor was probably
constructed; and it is hardly credible that a complex part, arrested at
an early phase of embryonic development, should go on growing so as
ultimately to perform its proper function, unless it had acquired such
power during some earlier state of existence, when the present
exceptional or arrested structure was normal. The simple brain of a
microcephalous idiot, in as far as it resembles that of an ape, may in
this sense be said to offer a case of reversion. (38. In my ‘Variation
of Animals under Domestication’ (vol. ii. p. 57), I attributed the not
very rare cases of supernumerary mammae in women to reversion. I was
led to this as a probable conclusion, by the additional mammae being
generally placed symmetrically on the breast; and more especially from
one case, in which a single efficient mamma occurred in the inguinal
region of a woman, the daughter of another woman with supernumerary
mammae. But I now find (see, for instance, Prof. Preyer, ‘Der Kampf um
das Dasein,’ 1869, s. 45) that mammae erraticae, occur in other
situations, as on the back, in the armpit, and on the thigh; the mammae
in this latter instance having given so much milk that the child was
thus nourished. The probability that the additional mammae are due to
reversion is thus much weakened; nevertheless, it still seems to me
probable, because two pairs are often found symmetrically on the
breast; and of this I myself have received information in several
cases. It is well known that some Lemurs normally have two pairs of
mammae on the breast. Five cases have been recorded of the presence of
more than a pair of mammae (of course rudimentary) in the male sex of
mankind; see ‘Journal of Anat. and Physiology,’ 1872, p. 56, for a case
given by Dr. Handyside, in which two brothers exhibited this
peculiarity; see also a paper by Dr. Bartels, in ‘Reichert’s and du
Bois-Reymond’s Archiv.,’ 1872, p. 304. In one of the cases alluded to
by Dr. Bartels, a man bore five mammae, one being medial and placed
above the navel; Meckel von Hemsbach thinks that this latter case is
illustrated by a medial mamma occurring in certain Cheiroptera. On the
whole, we may well doubt if additional mammae would ever have been
developed in both sexes of mankind, had not his early progenitors been
provided with more than a single pair.
In the above work (vol. ii. p. 12), I also attributed, though with much
hesitation, the frequent cases of polydactylism in men and various
animals to reversion. I was partly led to this through Prof. Owen’s
statement, that some of the Ichthyopterygia possess more than five
digits, and therefore, as I supposed, had retained a primordial
condition; but Prof. Gegenbaur (‘Jenaischen Zeitschrift,’ B. v. Heft 3,
s. 341), disputes Owen’s conclusion. On the other hand, according to
the opinion lately advanced by Dr. Gunther, on the paddle of Ceratodus,
which is provided with articulated bony rays on both sides of a central
chain of bones, there seems no great difficulty in admitting that six
or more digits on one side, or on both sides, might reappear through
reversion. I am informed by Dr. Zouteveen that there is a case on
record of a man having twenty-four fingers and twenty-four toes! I was
chiefly led to the conclusion that the presence of supernumerary digits
might be due to reversion from the fact that such digits, not only are
strongly inherited, but, as I then believed, had the power of regrowth
after amputation, like the normal digits of the lower vertebrata. But I
have explained in the second edition of my Variation under
Domestication why I now place little reliance on the recorded cases of
such regrowth. Nevertheless it deserves notice, inasmuch as arrested
development and reversion are intimately related processes; that
various structures in an embryonic or arrested condition, such as a
cleft palate, bifid uterus, etc., are frequently accompanied by
polydactylism. This has been strongly insisted on by Meckel and Isidore
Geoffroy St.-Hilaire. But at present it is the safest course to give up
altogether the idea that there is any relation between the development
of supernumerary digits and reversion to some lowly organised
progenitor of man.) There are other cases which come more strictly
under our present head of reversion. Certain structures, regularly
occurring in the lower members of the group to which man belongs,
occasionally make their appearance in him, though not found in the
normal human embryo; or, if normally present in the human embryo, they
become abnormally developed, although in a manner which is normal in
the lower members of the group. These remarks will be rendered clearer
by the following illustrations.
In various mammals the uterus graduates from a double organ with two
distinct orifices and two passages, as in the marsupials, into a single
organ, which is in no way double except from having a slight internal
fold, as in the higher apes and man. The rodents exhibit a perfect
series of gradations between these two extreme states. In all mammals
the uterus is developed from two simple primitive tubes, the inferior
portions of which form the cornua; and it is in the words of Dr. Farre,
“by the coalescence of the two cornua at their lower extremities that
the body of the uterus is formed in man; while in those animals in
which no middle portion or body exists, the cornua remain ununited. As
the development of the uterus proceeds, the two cornua become gradually
shorter, until at length they are lost, or, as it were, absorbed into
the body of the uterus.” The angles of the uterus are still produced
into cornua, even in animals as high up in the scale as the lower apes
and lemurs.
Now in women, anomalous cases are not very infrequent, in which the
mature uterus is furnished with cornua, or is partially divided into
two organs; and such cases, according to Owen, repeat “the grade of
concentrative development,” attained by certain rodents. Here perhaps
we have an instance of a simple arrest of embryonic development, with
subsequent growth and perfect functional development; for either side
of the partially double uterus is capable of performing the proper
office of gestation. In other and rarer cases, two distinct uterine
cavities are formed, each having its proper orifice and passage. (39.
See Dr. A. Farre’s well-known article in the ‘Cyclopaedia of Anatomy
and Physiology,’ vol. v. 1859, p. 642. Owen, ‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’
vol. iii. 1868, p. 687. Professor Turner, in ‘Edinburgh Medical
Journal,’ February, 1865.) No such stage is passed through during the
ordinary development of the embryo; and it is difficult to believe,
though perhaps not impossible, that the two simple, minute, primitive
tubes should know how (if such an expression may be used) to grow into
two distinct uteri, each with a well-constructed orifice and passage,
and each furnished with numerous muscles, nerves, glands and vessels,
if they had not formerly passed through a similar course of
development, as in the case of existing marsupials. No one will pretend
that so perfect a structure as the abnormal double uterus in woman
could be the result of mere chance. But the principle of reversion, by
which a long-lost structure is called back into existence, might serve
as the guide for its full development, even after the lapse of an
enormous interval of time.
Professor Canestrini, after discussing the foregoing and various
analogous cases, arrives at the same conclusion as that just given. He
adduces another instance, in the case of the malar bone (40. ‘Annuario
della Soc. dei Naturalisti,’ Modena, 1867, p. 83. Prof. Canestrini
gives extracts on this subject from various authorities. Laurillard
remarks, that as he has found a complete similarity in the form,
proportions, and connection of the two malar bones in several human
subjects and in certain apes, he cannot consider this disposition of
the parts as simply accidental. Another paper on this same anomaly has
been published by Dr. Saviotti in the ‘Gazzetta delle Cliniche,’ Turin,
1871, where he says that traces of the division may be detected in
about two per cent. of adult skulls; he also remarks that it more
frequently occurs in prognathous skulls, not of the Aryan race, than in
others. See also G. Delorenzi on the same subject; ‘Tre nuovi casi
d’anomalia dell’ osso malare,’ Torino, 1872. Also, E. Morselli, ‘Sopra
una rara anomalia dell’ osso malare,’ Modena, 1872. Still more recently
Gruber has written a pamphlet on the division of this bone. I give
these references because a reviewer, without any grounds or scruples,
has thrown doubts on my statements.), which, in some of the Quadrumana
and other mammals, normally consists of two portions. This is its
condition in the human foetus when two months old; and through arrested
development, it sometimes remains thus in man when adult, more
especially in the lower prognathous races. Hence Canestrini concludes
that some ancient progenitor of man must have had this bone normally
divided into two portions, which afterwards became fused together. In
man the frontal bone consists of a single piece, but in the embryo, and
in children, and in almost all the lower mammals, it consists of two
pieces separated by a distinct suture. This suture occasionally
persists more or less distinctly in man after maturity; and more
frequently in ancient than in recent crania, especially, as Canestrini
has observed, in those exhumed from the Drift, and belonging to the
brachycephalic type. Here again he comes to the same conclusion as in
the analogous case of the malar bones. In this, and other instances
presently to be given, the cause of ancient races approaching the lower
animals in certain characters more frequently than do the modern races,
appears to be, that the latter stand at a somewhat greater distance in
the long line of descent from their early semi-human progenitors.
Various other anomalies in man, more or less analogous to the
foregoing, have been advanced by different authors, as cases of
reversion; but these seem not a little doubtful, for we have to descend
extremely low in the mammalian series, before we find such structures
normally present. (41. A whole series of cases is given by Isidore
Geoffroy St.-Hilaire, ‘Hist. des Anomalies,’ tom, iii, p. 437. A
reviewer (‘Journal of Anatomy and Physiology,’ 1871, p. 366) blames me
much for not having discussed the numerous cases, which have been
recorded, of various parts arrested in their development. He says that,
according to my theory, “every transient condition of an organ, during
its development, is not only a means to an end, but once was an end in
itself.” This does not seem to me necessarily to hold good. Why should
not variations occur during an early period of development, having no
relation to reversion; yet such variations might be preserved and
accumulated, if in any way serviceable, for instance, in shortening and
simplifying the course of development? And again, why should not
injurious abnormalities, such as atrophied or hypertrophied parts,
which have no relation to a former state of existence, occur at an
early period, as well as during maturity?)
In man, the canine teeth are perfectly efficient instruments for
mastication. But their true canine character, as Owen (42. ‘Anatomy of
Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. 1868, p. 323.) remarks, “is indicated by the
conical form of the crown, which terminates in an obtuse point, is
convex outward and flat or sub-concave within, at the base of which
surface there is a feeble prominence. The conical form is best
expressed in the Melanian races, especially the Australian. The canine
is more deeply implanted, and by a stronger fang than the incisors.”
Nevertheless, this tooth no longer serves man as a special weapon for
tearing his enemies or prey; it may, therefore, as far as its proper
function is concerned, be considered as rudimentary. In every large
collection of human skulls some may be found, as Haeckel (43.
‘Generelle Morphologie,’ 1866, B. ii. s. clv.) observes, with the
canine teeth projecting considerably beyond the others in the same
manner as in the anthropomorphous apes, but in a less degree. In these
cases, open spaces between the teeth in the one jaw are left for the
reception of the canines of the opposite jaw. An inter-space of this
kind in a Kaffir skull, figured by Wagner, is surprisingly wide. (44.
Carl Vogt’s ‘Lectures on Man,’ Eng. translat., 1864, p. 151.)
Considering how few are the ancient skulls which have been examined,
compared to recent skulls, it is an interesting fact that in at least
three cases the canines project largely; and in the Naulette jaw they
are spoken of as enormous. (45. C. Carter Blake, on a jaw from La
Naulette, ‘Anthropological Review,’ 1867, p. 295. Schaaffhausen, ibid.
1868, p. 426.)
Of the anthropomorphous apes the males alone have their canines fully
developed; but in the female gorilla, and in a less degree in the
female orang, these teeth project considerably beyond the others;
therefore the fact, of which I have been assured, that women sometimes
have considerably projecting canines, is no serious objection to the
belief that their occasional great development in man is a case of
reversion to an ape-like progenitor. He who rejects with scorn the
belief that the shape of his own canines, and their occasional great
development in other men, are due to our early forefathers having been
provided with these formidable weapons, will probably reveal, by
sneering, the line of his descent. For though he no longer intends, nor
has the power, to use these teeth as weapons, he will unconsciously
retract his “snarling muscles” (thus named by Sir C. Bell) (46. The
Anatomy of Expression, 1844, pp. 110, 131.), so as to expose them ready
for action, like a dog prepared to fight.
Many muscles are occasionally developed in man, which are proper to the
Quadrumana or other mammals. Professor Vlacovich (47. Quoted by Prof.
Canestrini in the ‘Annuario della Soc. dei Naturalisti,’ 1867, p. 90.)
examined forty male subjects, and found a muscle, called by him the
ischio-pubic, in nineteen of them; in three others there was a ligament
which represented this muscle; and in the remaining eighteen no trace
of it. In only two out of thirty female subjects was this muscle
developed on both sides, but in three others the rudimentary ligament
was present. This muscle, therefore, appears to be much more common in
the male than in the female sex; and on the belief in the descent of
man from some lower form, the fact is intelligible; for it has been
detected in several of the lower animals, and in all of these it serves
exclusively to aid the male in the act of reproduction.
Mr. J. Wood, in his valuable series of papers (48. These papers deserve
careful study by any one who desires to learn how frequently our
muscles vary, and in varying come to resemble those of the Quadrumana.
The following references relate to the few points touched on in my
text: ‘Proc. Royal Soc.’ vol. xiv. 1865, pp. 379-384; vol. xv. 1866,
pp. 241, 242; vol. xv. 1867, p. 544; vol. xvi. 1868, p. 524. I may here
add that Dr. Murie and Mr. St. George Mivart have shewn in their Memoir
on the Lemuroidea (‘Transactions, Zoological Society,’ vol. vii. 1869,
p. 96), how extraordinarily variable some of the muscles are in these
animals, the lowest members of the Primates. Gradations, also, in the
muscles leading to structures found in animals still lower in the
scale, are numerous in the Lemuroidea.), has minutely described a vast
number of muscular variations in man, which resemble normal structures
in the lower animals. The muscles which closely resemble those
regularly present in our nearest allies, the Quadrumana, are too
numerous to be here even specified. In a single male subject, having a
strong bodily frame, and well-formed skull, no less than seven muscular
variations were observed, all of which plainly represented muscles
proper to various kinds of apes. This man, for instance, had on both
sides of his neck a true and powerful “levator claviculae,” such as is
found in all kinds of apes, and which is said to occur in about one out
of sixty human subjects. (49. See also Prof. Macalister in
‘Proceedings, Royal Irish Academy,’ vol. x. 1868, p. 124.) Again, this
man had “a special abductor of the metatarsal bone of the fifth digit,
such as Professor Huxley and Mr. Flower have shewn to exist uniformly
in the higher and lower apes.” I will give only two additional cases;
the acromio-basilar muscle is found in all mammals below man, and seems
to be correlated with a quadrupedal gait, (50. Mr. Champneys in
‘Journal of Anatomy and Physiology,’ Nov. 1871, p. 178.) and it occurs
in about one out of sixty human subjects. In the lower extremities Mr.
Bradley (51. Ibid. May 1872, p. 421.) found an abductor ossis metatarsi
quinti in both feet of man; this muscle had not up to that time been
recorded in mankind, but is always present in the anthropomorphous
apes. The muscles of the hands and arms—parts which are so eminently
characteristic of man—are extremely liable to vary, so as to resemble
the corresponding muscles in the lower animals. (52. Prof. Macalister
(ibid. p. 121) has tabulated his observations, and finds that muscular
abnormalities are most frequent in the fore-arms, secondly, in the
face, thirdly, in the foot, etc.) Such resemblances are either perfect
or imperfect; yet in the latter case they are manifestly of a
transitional nature. Certain variations are more common in man, and
others in woman, without our being able to assign any reason. Mr. Wood,
after describing numerous variations, makes the following pregnant
remark. “Notable departures from the ordinary type of the muscular
structures run in grooves or directions, which must be taken to
indicate some unknown factor, of much importance to a comprehensive
knowledge of general and scientific anatomy.” (53. The Rev. Dr.
Haughton, after giving (‘Proc. R. Irish Academy,’ June 27, 1864, p.
715) a remarkable case of variation in the human flexor pollicis
longus, adds, “This remarkable example shews that man may sometimes
possess the arrangement of tendons of thumb and fingers characteristic
of the macaque; but whether such a case should be regarded as a macaque
passing upwards into a man, or a man passing downwards into a macaque,
or as a congenital freak of nature, I cannot undertake to say.” It is
satisfactory to hear so capable an anatomist, and so embittered an
opponent of evolutionism, admitting even the possibility of either of
his first propositions. Prof. Macalister has also described
(‘Proceedings Royal Irish Academy,’ vol. x. 1864, p. 138) variations in
the flexor pollicis longus, remarkable from their relations to the same
muscle in the Quadrumana.)
That this unknown factor is reversion to a former state of existence
may be admitted as in the highest degree probable. (54. Since the first
edition of this book appeared, Mr. Wood has published another memoir in
the Philosophical Transactions, 1870, p. 83, on the varieties of the
muscles of the human neck, shoulder, and chest. He here shews how
extremely variable these muscles are, and how often and how closely the
variations resemble the normal muscles of the lower animals. He sums up
by remarking, “It will be enough for my purpose if I have succeeded in
shewing the more important forms which, when occurring as varieties in
the human subject, tend to exhibit in a sufficiently marked manner what
may be considered as proofs and examples of the Darwinian principle of
reversion, or law of inheritance, in this department of anatomical
science.”) It is quite incredible that a man should through mere
accident abnormally resemble certain apes in no less than seven of his
muscles, if there had been no genetic connection between them. On the
other hand, if man is descended from some ape-like creature, no valid
reason can be assigned why certain muscles should not suddenly reappear
after an interval of many thousand generations, in the same manner as
with horses, asses, and mules, dark-coloured stripes suddenly reappear
on the legs, and shoulders, after an interval of hundreds, or more
probably of thousands of generations.
These various cases of reversion are so closely related to those of
rudimentary organs given in the first chapter, that many of them might
have been indifferently introduced either there or here. Thus a human
uterus furnished with cornua may be said to represent, in a rudimentary
condition, the same organ in its normal state in certain mammals. Some
parts which are rudimentary in man, as the os coccyx in both sexes, and
the mammae in the male sex, are always present; whilst others, such as
the supracondyloid foramen, only occasionally appear, and therefore
might have been introduced under the head of reversion. These several
reversionary structures, as well as the strictly rudimentary ones,
reveal the descent of man from some lower form in an unmistakable
manner.
CORRELATED VARIATION.
In man, as in the lower animals, many structures are so intimately
related, that when one part varies so does another, without our being
able, in most cases, to assign any reason. We cannot say whether the
one part governs the other, or whether both are governed by some
earlier developed part. Various monstrosities, as I. Geoffroy
repeatedly insists, are thus intimately connected. Homologous
structures are particularly liable to change together, as we see on the
opposite sides of the body, and in the upper and lower extremities.
Meckel long ago remarked, that when the muscles of the arm depart from
their proper type, they almost always imitate those of the leg; and so,
conversely, with the muscles of the legs. The organs of sight and
hearing, the teeth and hair, the colour of the skin and of the hair,
colour and constitution, are more or less correlated. (55. The
authorities for these several statements are given in my ‘Variation of
Animals under Domestication,’ vol. ii. pp. 320-335.) Professor
Schaaffhausen first drew attention to the relation apparently existing
between a muscular frame and the strongly-pronounced supra-orbital
ridges, which are so characteristic of the lower races of man.
Besides the variations which can be grouped with more or less
probability under the foregoing heads, there is a large class of
variations which may be provisionally called spontaneous, for to our
ignorance they appear to arise without any exciting cause. It can,
however, be shewn that such variations, whether consisting of slight
individual differences, or of strongly-marked and abrupt deviations of
structure, depend much more on the constitution of the organism than on
the nature of the conditions to which it has been subjected. (56. This
whole subject has been discussed in chap. xxiii. vol. ii. of my
‘Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication.’)
RATE OF INCREASE.
Civilised populations have been known under favourable conditions, as
in the United States, to double their numbers in twenty-five years;
and, according to a calculation, by Euler, this might occur in a little
over twelve years. (57. See the ever memorable ‘Essay on the Principle
of Population,’ by the Rev. T. Malthus, vol. i. 1826. pp. 6, 517.) At
the former rate, the present population of the United States (thirty
millions), would in 657 years cover the whole terraqueous globe so
thickly, that four men would have to stand on each square yard of
surface. The primary or fundamental check to the continued increase of
man is the difficulty of gaining subsistence, and of living in comfort.
We may infer that this is the case from what we see, for instance, in
the United States, where subsistence is easy, and there is plenty of
room. If such means were suddenly doubled in Great Britain, our number
would be quickly doubled. With civilised nations this primary check
acts chiefly by restraining marriages. The greater death-rate of
infants in the poorest classes is also very important; as well as the
greater mortality, from various diseases, of the inhabitants of crowded
and miserable houses, at all ages. The effects of severe epidemics and
wars are soon counterbalanced, and more than counterbalanced, in
nations placed under favourable conditions. Emigration also comes in
aid as a temporary check, but, with the extremely poor classes, not to
any great extent.
There is reason to suspect, as Malthus has remarked, that the
reproductive power is actually less in barbarous, than in civilised
races. We know nothing positively on this head, for with savages no
census has been taken; but from the concurrent testimony of
missionaries, and of others who have long resided with such people, it
appears that their families are usually small, and large ones rare.
This may be partly accounted for, as it is believed, by the women
suckling their infants during a long time; but it is highly probable
that savages, who often suffer much hardship, and who do not obtain so
much nutritious food as civilised men, would be actually less prolific.
I have shewn in a former work (58. ‘Variation of Animals and Plants
under Domestication,’ vol ii. pp. 111-113, 163.), that all our
domesticated quadrupeds and birds, and all our cultivated plants, are
more fertile than the corresponding species in a state of nature. It is
no valid objection to this conclusion that animals suddenly supplied
with an excess of food, or when grown very fat; and that most plants on
sudden removal from very poor to very rich soil, are rendered more or
less sterile. We might, therefore, expect that civilised men, who in
one sense are highly domesticated, would be more prolific than wild
men. It is also probable that the increased fertility of civilised
nations would become, as with our domestic animals, an inherited
character: it is at least known that with mankind a tendency to produce
twins runs in families. (59. Mr. Sedgwick, ‘British and Foreign
Medico-Chirurgical Review,’ July 1863, p. 170.)
Notwithstanding that savages appear to be less prolific than civilised
people, they would no doubt rapidly increase if their numbers were not
by some means rigidly kept down. The Santali, or hill-tribes of India,
have recently afforded a good illustration of this fact; for, as shewn
by Mr. Hunter (60. ‘The Annals of Rural Bengal,’ by W.W. Hunter, 1868,
p. 259.), they have increased at an extraordinary rate since
vaccination has been introduced, other pestilences mitigated, and war
sternly repressed. This increase, however, would not have been possible
had not these rude people spread into the adjoining districts, and
worked for hire. Savages almost always marry; yet there is some
prudential restraint, for they do not commonly marry at the earliest
possible age. The young men are often required to shew that they can
support a wife; and they generally have first to earn the price with
which to purchase her from her parents. With savages the difficulty of
obtaining subsistence occasionally limits their number in a much more
direct manner than with civilised people, for all tribes periodically
suffer from severe famines. At such times savages are forced to devour
much bad food, and their health can hardly fail to be injured. Many
accounts have been published of their protruding stomachs and emaciated
limbs after and during famines. They are then, also, compelled to
wander much, and, as I was assured in Australia, their infants perish
in large numbers. As famines are periodical, depending chiefly on
extreme seasons, all tribes must fluctuate in number. They cannot
steadily and regularly increase, as there is no artificial increase in
the supply of food. Savages, when hard pressed, encroach on each
other’s territories, and war is the result; but they are indeed almost
always at war with their neighbours. They are liable to many accidents
on land and water in their search for food; and in some countries they
suffer much from the larger beasts of prey. Even in India, districts
have been depopulated by the ravages of tigers.
Malthus has discussed these several checks, but he does not lay stress
enough on what is probably the most important of all, namely
infanticide, especially of female infants, and the habit of procuring
abortion. These practices now prevail in many quarters of the world;
and infanticide seems formerly to have prevailed, as Mr. M’Lennan (61.
‘Primitive Marriage,’ 1865.) has shewn, on a still more extensive
scale. These practices appear to have originated in savages recognising
the difficulty, or rather the impossibility of supporting all the
infants that are born. Licentiousness may also be added to the
foregoing checks; but this does not follow from failing means of
subsistence; though there is reason to believe that in some cases (as
in Japan) it has been intentionally encouraged as a means of keeping
down the population.
If we look back to an extremely remote epoch, before man had arrived at
the dignity of manhood, he would have been guided more by instinct and
less by reason than are the lowest savages at the present time. Our
early semi-human progenitors would not have practised infanticide or
polyandry; for the instincts of the lower animals are never so
perverted (62. A writer in the ‘Spectator’ (March 12, 1871, p. 320)
comments as follows on this passage:—“Mr. Darwin finds himself
compelled to reintroduce a new doctrine of the fall of man. He shews
that the instincts of the higher animals are far nobler than the habits
of savage races of men, and he finds himself, therefore, compelled to
re-introduce,—in a form of the substantial orthodoxy of which he
appears to be quite unconscious,—and to introduce as a scientific
hypothesis the doctrine that man’s gain of KNOWLEDGE was the cause of a
temporary but long-enduring moral deterioration as indicated by the
many foul customs, especially as to marriage, of savage tribes. What
does the Jewish tradition of the moral degeneration of man through his
snatching at a knowledge forbidden him by his highest instinct assert
beyond this?”) as to lead them regularly to destroy their own
offspring, or to be quite devoid of jealousy. There would have been no
prudential restraint from marriage, and the sexes would have freely
united at an early age. Hence the progenitors of man would have tended
to increase rapidly; but checks of some kind, either periodical or
constant, must have kept down their numbers, even more severely than
with existing savages. What the precise nature of these checks were, we
cannot say, any more than with most other animals. We know that horses
and cattle, which are not extremely prolific animals, when first turned
loose in South America, increased at an enormous rate. The elephant,
the slowest breeder of all known animals, would in a few thousand years
stock the whole world. The increase of every species of monkey must be
checked by some means; but not, as Brehm remarks, by the attacks of
beasts of prey. No one will assume that the actual power of
reproduction in the wild horses and cattle of America, was at first in
any sensible degree increased; or that, as each district became fully
stocked, this same power was diminished. No doubt, in this case, and in
all others, many checks concur, and different checks under different
circumstances; periodical dearths, depending on unfavourable seasons,
being probably the most important of all. So it will have been with the
early progenitors of man.
NATURAL SELECTION.
We have now seen that man is variable in body and mind; and that the
variations are induced, either directly or indirectly, by the same
general causes, and obey the same general laws, as with the lower
animals. Man has spread widely over the face of the earth, and must
have been exposed, during his incessant migrations (63. See some good
remarks to this effect by W. Stanley Jevons, “A Deduction from Darwin’s
Theory,” ‘Nature,’ 1869, p. 231.), to the most diversified conditions.
The inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego, the Cape of Good Hope, and
Tasmania in the one hemisphere, and of the arctic regions in the other,
must have passed through many climates, and changed their habits many
times, before they reached their present homes. (64. Latham, ‘Man and
his Migrations,’ 1851, p. 135.) The early progenitors of man must also
have tended, like all other animals, to have increased beyond their
means of subsistence; they must, therefore, occasionally have been
exposed to a struggle for existence, and consequently to the rigid law
of natural selection. Beneficial variations of all kinds will thus,
either occasionally or habitually, have been preserved and injurious
ones eliminated. I do not refer to strongly-marked deviations of
structure, which occur only at long intervals of time, but to mere
individual differences. We know, for instance, that the muscles of our
hands and feet, which determine our powers of movement, are liable,
like those of the lower animals, (65. Messrs. Murie and Mivart in their
‘Anatomy of the Lemuroidea’ (‘Transact. Zoolog. Soc.’ vol. vii. 1869,
pp. 96-98) say, “some muscles are so irregular in their distribution
that they cannot be well classed in any of the above groups.” These
muscles differ even on the opposite sides of the same individual.) to
incessant variability. If then the progenitors of man inhabiting any
district, especially one undergoing some change in its conditions, were
divided into two equal bodies, the one half which included all the
individuals best adapted by their powers of movement for gaining
subsistence, or for defending themselves, would on an average survive
in greater numbers, and procreate more offspring than the other and
less well endowed half.
Man in the rudest state in which he now exists is the most dominant
animal that has ever appeared on this earth. He has spread more widely
than any other highly organised form: and all others have yielded
before him. He manifestly owes this immense superiority to his
intellectual faculties, to his social habits, which lead him to aid and
defend his fellows, and to his corporeal structure. The supreme
importance of these characters has been proved by the final arbitrament
of the battle for life. Through his powers of intellect, articulate
language has been evolved; and on this his wonderful advancement has
mainly depended. As Mr. Chauncey Wright remarks (66. Limits of Natural
Selection, ‘North American Review,’ Oct. 1870, p. 295.): “a
psychological analysis of the faculty of language shews, that even the
smallest proficiency in it might require more brain power than the
greatest proficiency in any other direction.” He has invented and is
able to use various weapons, tools, traps, etc., with which he defends
himself, kills or catches prey, and otherwise obtains food. He has made
rafts or canoes for fishing or crossing over to neighbouring fertile
islands. He has discovered the art of making fire, by which hard and
stringy roots can be rendered digestible, and poisonous roots or herbs
innocuous. This discovery of fire, probably the greatest ever made by
man, excepting language, dates from before the dawn of history. These
several inventions, by which man in the rudest state has become so
pre-eminent, are the direct results of the development of his powers of
observation, memory, curiosity, imagination, and reason. I cannot,
therefore, understand how it is that Mr. Wallace (67. ‘Quarterly
Review,’ April 1869, p. 392. This subject is more fully discussed in
Mr. Wallace’s ‘Contributions to the Theory of Natural Selection,’ 1870,
in which all the essays referred to in this work are re-published. The
‘Essay on Man,’ has been ably criticised by Prof. Claparede, one of the
most distinguished zoologists in Europe, in an article published in the
‘Bibliotheque Universelle,’ June 1870. The remark quoted in my text
will surprise every one who has read Mr. Wallace’s celebrated paper on
‘The Origin of Human Races Deduced from the Theory of Natural
Selection,’ originally published in the ‘Anthropological Review,’ May
1864, p. clviii. I cannot here resist quoting a most just remark by Sir
J. Lubbock (‘Prehistoric Times,’ 1865, p. 479) in reference to this
paper, namely, that Mr. Wallace, “with characteristic unselfishness,
ascribes it (i.e. the idea of natural selection) unreservedly to Mr.
Darwin, although, as is well known, he struck out the idea
independently, and published it, though not with the same elaboration,
at the same time.”) maintains, that “natural selection could only have
endowed the savage with a brain a little superior to that of an ape.”
Although the intellectual powers and social habits of man are of
paramount importance to him, we must not underrate the importance of
his bodily structure, to which subject the remainder of this chapter
will be devoted; the development of the intellectual and social or
moral faculties being discussed in a later chapter.
Even to hammer with precision is no easy matter, as every one who has
tried to learn carpentry will admit. To throw a stone with as true an
aim as a Fuegian in defending himself, or in killing birds, requires
the most consummate perfection in the correlated action of the muscles
of the hand, arm, and shoulder, and, further, a fine sense of touch. In
throwing a stone or spear, and in many other actions, a man must stand
firmly on his feet; and this again demands the perfect co-adaptation of
numerous muscles. To chip a flint into the rudest tool, or to form a
barbed spear or hook from a bone, demands the use of a perfect hand;
for, as a most capable judge, Mr. Schoolcraft (68. Quoted by Mr. Lawson
Tait in his ‘Law of Natural Selection,’ ‘Dublin Quarterly Journal of
Medical Science,’ Feb. 1869. Dr. Keller is likewise quoted to the same
effect.), remarks, the shaping fragments of stone into knives, lances,
or arrow-heads, shews “extraordinary ability and long practice.” This
is to a great extent proved by the fact that primeval men practised a
division of labour; each man did not manufacture his own flint tools or
rude pottery, but certain individuals appear to have devoted themselves
to such work, no doubt receiving in exchange the produce of the chase.
Archaeologists are convinced that an enormous interval of time elapsed
before our ancestors thought of grinding chipped flints into smooth
tools. One can hardly doubt, that a man-like animal who possessed a
hand and arm sufficiently perfect to throw a stone with precision, or
to form a flint into a rude tool, could, with sufficient practice, as
far as mechanical skill alone is concerned, make almost anything which
a civilised man can make. The structure of the hand in this respect may
be compared with that of the vocal organs, which in the apes are used
for uttering various signal-cries, or, as in one genus, musical
cadences; but in man the closely similar vocal organs have become
adapted through the inherited effects of use for the utterance of
articulate language.
Turning now to the nearest allies of men, and therefore to the best
representatives of our early progenitors, we find that the hands of the
Quadrumana are constructed on the same general pattern as our own, but
are far less perfectly adapted for diversified uses. Their hands do not
serve for locomotion so well as the feet of a dog; as may be seen in
such monkeys as the chimpanzee and orang, which walk on the outer
margins of the palms, or on the knuckles. (69. Owen, ‘Anatomy of
Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. p. 71.) Their hands, however, are admirably
adapted for climbing trees. Monkeys seize thin branches or ropes, with
the thumb on one side and the fingers and palm on the other, in the
same manner as we do. They can thus also lift rather large objects,
such as the neck of a bottle, to their mouths. Baboons turn over
stones, and scratch up roots with their hands. They seize nuts,
insects, or other small objects with the thumb in opposition to the
fingers, and no doubt they thus extract eggs and young from the nests
of birds. American monkeys beat the wild oranges on the branches until
the rind is cracked, and then tear it off with the fingers of the two
hands. In a wild state they break open hard fruits with stones. Other
monkeys open mussel-shells with the two thumbs. With their fingers they
pull out thorns and burs, and hunt for each other’s parasites. They
roll down stones, or throw them at their enemies: nevertheless, they
are clumsy in these various actions, and, as I have myself seen, are
quite unable to throw a stone with precision.
It seems to me far from true that because “objects are grasped
clumsily” by monkeys, “a much less specialised organ of prehension”
would have served them (70. ‘Quarterly Review,’ April 1869, p. 392.)
equally well with their present hands. On the contrary, I see no reason
to doubt that more perfectly constructed hands would have been an
advantage to them, provided that they were not thus rendered less
fitted for climbing trees. We may suspect that a hand as perfect as
that of man would have been disadvantageous for climbing; for the most
arboreal monkeys in the world, namely, Ateles in America, Colobus in
Africa, and Hylobates in Asia, are either thumbless, or their toes
partially cohere, so that their limbs are converted into mere grasping
hooks. (71. In Hylobates syndactylus, as the name expresses, two of the
toes regularly cohere; and this, as Mr. Blyth informs me, is
occasionally the case with the toes of H. agilis, lar, and leuciscus.
Colobus is strictly arboreal and extraordinarily active (Brehm,
‘Thierleben,’ B. i. s. 50), but whether a better climber than the
species of the allied genera, I do not know. It deserves notice that
the feet of the sloths, the most arboreal animals in the world, are
wonderfully hook-like.
As soon as some ancient member in the great series of the Primates came
to be less arboreal, owing to a change in its manner of procuring
subsistence, or to some change in the surrounding conditions, its
habitual manner of progression would have been modified: and thus it
would have been rendered more strictly quadrupedal or bipedal. Baboons
frequent hilly and rocky districts, and only from necessity climb high
trees (72. Brehm, ‘Thierleben,’ B. i. s. 80.); and they have acquired
almost the gait of a dog. Man alone has become a biped; and we can, I
think, partly see how he has come to assume his erect attitude, which
forms one of his most conspicuous characters. Man could not have
attained his present dominant position in the world without the use of
his hands, which are so admirably adapted to act in obedience to his
will. Sir C. Bell (73. ‘The Hand,’ etc., ‘Bridgewater Treatise,’ 1833,
p. 38.) insists that “the hand supplies all instruments, and by its
correspondence with the intellect gives him universal dominion.” But
the hands and arms could hardly have become perfect enough to have
manufactured weapons, or to have hurled stones and spears with a true
aim, as long as they were habitually used for locomotion and for
supporting the whole weight of the body, or, as before remarked, so
long as they were especially fitted for climbing trees. Such rough
treatment would also have blunted the sense of touch, on which their
delicate use largely depends. From these causes alone it would have
been an advantage to man to become a biped; but for many actions it is
indispensable that the arms and whole upper part of the body should be
free; and he must for this end stand firmly on his feet. To gain this
great advantage, the feet have been rendered flat; and the great toe
has been peculiarly modified, though this has entailed the almost
complete loss of its power of prehension. It accords with the principle
of the division of physiological labour, prevailing throughout the
animal kingdom, that as the hands became perfected for prehension, the
feet should have become perfected for support and locomotion. With some
savages, however, the foot has not altogether lost its prehensile
power, as shewn by their manner of climbing trees, and of using them in
other ways. (74. Haeckel has an excellent discussion on the steps by
which man became a biped: ‘Natürliche Schöpfungsgeschichte,’ 1868, s.
507. Dr. Buchner (‘Conférences sur la Théorie Darwinienne,’ 1869, p.
135) has given good cases of the use of the foot as a prehensile organ
by man; and has also written on the manner of progression of the higher
apes, to which I allude in the following paragraph: see also Owen
(‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. p. 71) on this latter subject.)
If it be an advantage to man to stand firmly on his feet and to have
his hands and arms free, of which, from his pre-eminent success in the
battle of life there can be no doubt, then I can see no reason why it
should not have been advantageous to the progenitors of man to have
become more and more erect or bipedal. They would thus have been better
able to defend themselves with stones or clubs, to attack their prey,
or otherwise to obtain food. The best built individuals would in the
long run have succeeded best, and have survived in larger numbers. If
the gorilla and a few allied forms had become extinct, it might have
been argued, with great force and apparent truth, that an animal could
not have been gradually converted from a quadruped into a biped, as all
the individuals in an intermediate condition would have been miserably
ill-fitted for progression. But we know (and this is well worthy of
reflection) that the anthropomorphous apes are now actually in an
intermediate condition; and no one doubts that they are on the whole
well adapted for their conditions of life. Thus the gorilla runs with a
sidelong shambling gait, but more commonly progresses by resting on its
bent hands. The long-armed apes occasionally use their arms like
crutches, swinging their bodies forward between them, and some kinds of
Hylobates, without having been taught, can walk or run upright with
tolerable quickness; yet they move awkwardly, and much less securely
than man. We see, in short, in existing monkeys a manner of progression
intermediate between that of a quadruped and a biped; but, as an
unprejudiced judge (75. Prof. Broca, La Constitution des Vertèbres
caudales; ‘La Revue d’Anthropologie,’ 1872, p. 26, (separate copy).)
insists, the anthropomorphous apes approach in structure more nearly to
the bipedal than to the quadrupedal type.
As the progenitors of man became more and more erect, with their hands
and arms more and more modified for prehension and other purposes, with
their feet and legs at the same time transformed for firm support and
progression, endless other changes of structure would have become
necessary. The pelvis would have to be broadened, the spine peculiarly
curved, and the head fixed in an altered position, all which changes
have been attained by man. Prof. Schaaffhausen (76. ‘On the Primitive
Form of the Skull,’ translated in ‘Anthropological Review,’ Oct. 1868,
p. 428. Owen (‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’ vol. ii. 1866, p. 551) on the
mastoid processes in the higher apes.) maintains that “the powerful
mastoid processes of the human skull are the result of his erect
position;” and these processes are absent in the orang, chimpanzee,
etc., and are smaller in the gorilla than in man. Various other
structures, which appear connected with man’s erect position, might
here have been added. It is very difficult to decide how far these
correlated modifications are the result of natural selection, and how
far of the inherited effects of the increased use of certain parts, or
of the action of one part on another. No doubt these means of change
often co-operate: thus when certain muscles, and the crests of bone to
which they are attached, become enlarged by habitual use, this shews
that certain actions are habitually performed and must be serviceable.
Hence the individuals which performed them best, would tend to survive
in greater numbers.
The free use of the arms and hands, partly the cause and partly the
result of man’s erect position, appears to have led in an indirect
manner to other modifications of structure. The early male forefathers
of man were, as previously stated, probably furnished with great canine
teeth; but as they gradually acquired the habit of using stones, clubs,
or other weapons, for fighting with their enemies or rivals, they would
use their jaws and teeth less and less. In this case, the jaws,
together with the teeth, would become reduced in size, as we may feel
almost sure from innumerable analogous cases. In a future chapter we
shall meet with a closely parallel case, in the reduction or complete
disappearance of the canine teeth in male ruminants, apparently in
relation with the development of their horns; and in horses, in
relation to their habit of fighting with their incisor teeth and hoofs.
In the adult male anthropomorphous apes, as Rutimeyer (77. ‘Die Grenzen
der Thierwelt, eine Betrachtung zu Darwin’s Lehre,’ 1868, s. 51.), and
others, have insisted, it is the effect on the skull of the great
development of the jaw-muscles that causes it to differ so greatly in
many respects from that of man, and has given to these animals “a truly
frightful physiognomy.” Therefore, as the jaws and teeth in man’s
progenitors gradually become reduced in size, the adult skull would
have come to resemble more and more that of existing man. As we shall
hereafter see, a great reduction of the canine teeth in the males would
almost certainly affect the teeth of the females through inheritance.
As the various mental faculties gradually developed themselves the
brain would almost certainly become larger. No one, I presume, doubts
that the large proportion which the size of man’s brain bears to his
body, compared to the same proportion in the gorilla or orang, is
closely connected with his higher mental powers. We meet with closely
analogous facts with insects, for in ants the cerebral ganglia are of
extraordinary dimensions, and in all the Hymenoptera these ganglia are
many times larger than in the less intelligent orders, such as beetles.
(78. Dujardin, ‘Annales des Sciences Nat.’ 3rd series, Zoolog., tom.
xiv. 1850, p. 203. See also Mr. Lowne, ‘Anatomy and Phys. of the Musca
vomitoria,’ 1870, p. 14. My son, Mr. F. Darwin, dissected for me the
cerebral ganglia of the Formica rufa.) On the other hand, no one
supposes that the intellect of any two animals or of any two men can be
accurately gauged by the cubic contents of their skulls. It is certain
that there may be extraordinary mental activity with an extremely small
absolute mass of nervous matter: thus the wonderfully diversified
instincts, mental powers, and affections of ants are notorious, yet
their cerebral ganglia are not so large as the quarter of a small pin’s
head. Under this point of view, the brain of an ant is one of the most
marvellous atoms of matter in the world, perhaps more so than the brain
of a man.
The belief that there exists in man some close relation between the
size of the brain and the development of the intellectual faculties is
supported by the comparison of the skulls of savage and civilised
races, of ancient and modern people, and by the analogy of the whole
vertebrate series. Dr. J. Barnard Davis has proved (79. ‘Philosophical
Transactions,’ 1869, p. 513.), by many careful measurements, that the
mean internal capacity of the skull in Europeans is 92.3 cubic inches;
in Americans 87.5; in Asiatics 87.1; and in Australians only 81.9 cubic
inches. Professor Broca (80. ‘Les Selections,’ M. P. Broca, ‘Revue
d’Anthropologies,’ 1873; see also, as quoted in C. Vogt’s ‘Lectures on
Man,’ Engl. translat., 1864, pp. 88, 90. Prichard, ‘Physical History of
Mankind,’ vol. i. 1838, p. 305.) found that the nineteenth century
skulls from graves in Paris were larger than those from vaults of the
twelfth century, in the proportion of 1484 to 1426; and that the
increased size, as ascertained by measurements, was exclusively in the
frontal part of the skull—the seat of the intellectual faculties.
Prichard is persuaded that the present inhabitants of Britain have
“much more capacious brain-cases” than the ancient inhabitants.
Nevertheless, it must be admitted that some skulls of very high
antiquity, such as the famous one of Neanderthal, are well developed
and capacious. (81. In the interesting article just referred to, Prof.
Broca has well remarked, that in civilised nations, the average
capacity of the skull must be lowered by the preservation of a
considerable number of individuals, weak in mind and body, who would
have been promptly eliminated in the savage state. On the other hand,
with savages, the average includes only the more capable individuals,
who have been able to survive under extremely hard conditions of life.
Broca thus explains the otherwise inexplicable fact, that the mean
capacity of the skull of the ancient Troglodytes of Lozere is greater
than that of modern Frenchmen.) With respect to the lower animals, M.E.
Lartet (82. ‘Comptes-rendus des Sciences,’ etc., June 1, 1868.), by
comparing the crania of tertiary and recent mammals belonging to the
same groups, has come to the remarkable conclusion that the brain is
generally larger and the convolutions are more complex in the more
recent forms. On the other hand, I have shewn (83. The ‘Variation of
Animals and Plants under Domestication,’ vol. i. pp. 124-129.) that the
brains of domestic rabbits are considerably reduced in bulk, in
comparison with those of the wild rabbit or hare; and this may be
attributed to their having been closely confined during many
generations, so that they have exerted their intellect, instincts,
senses and voluntary movements but little.
The gradually increasing weight of the brain and skull in man must have
influenced the development of the supporting spinal column, more
especially whilst he was becoming erect. As this change of position was
being brought about, the internal pressure of the brain will also have
influenced the form of the skull; for many facts shew how easily the
skull is thus affected. Ethnologists believe that it is modified by the
kind of cradle in which infants sleep. Habitual spasms of the muscles,
and a cicatrix from a severe burn, have permanently modified the facial
bones. In young persons whose heads have become fixed either sideways
or backwards, owing to disease, one of the two eyes has changed its
position, and the shape of the skull has been altered apparently by the
pressure of the brain in a new direction. (84. Schaaffhausen gives from
Blumenbach and Busch, the cases of the spasms and cicatrix, in
‘Anthropological Review,’ Oct. 1868, p. 420. Dr. Jarrold
(‘Anthropologia,’ 1808, pp. 115, 116) adduces from Camper and from his
own observations, cases of the modification of the skull from the head
being fixed in an unnatural position. He believes that in certain
trades, such as that of a shoemaker, where the head is habitually held
forward, the forehead becomes more rounded and prominent.) I have shewn
that with long-eared rabbits even so trifling a cause as the lopping
forward of one ear drags forward almost every bone of the skull on that
side; so that the bones on the opposite side no longer strictly
correspond. Lastly, if any animal were to increase or diminish much in
general size, without any change in its mental powers, or if the mental
powers were to be much increased or diminished, without any great
change in the size of the body, the shape of the skull would almost
certainly be altered. I infer this from my observations on domestic
rabbits, some kinds of which have become very much larger than the wild
animal, whilst others have retained nearly the same size, but in both
cases the brain has been much reduced relatively to the size of the
body. Now I was at first much surprised on finding that in all these
rabbits the skull had become elongated or dolichocephalic; for
instance, of two skulls of nearly equal breadth, the one from a wild
rabbit and the other from a large domestic kind, the former was 3.15
and the latter 4.3 inches in length. (85. ‘Variation of Animals and
Plants under Domestication,’ vol. i. p. 117, on the elongation of the
skull; p. 119, on the effect of the lopping of one ear.) One of the
most marked distinctions in different races of men is that the skull in
some is elongated, and in others rounded; and here the explanation
suggested by the case of the rabbits may hold good; for Welcker finds
that short “men incline more to brachycephaly, and tall men to
dolichocephaly” (86. Quoted by Schaaffhausen, in ‘Anthropological
Review,’ Oct. 1868, p. 419.); and tall men may be compared with the
larger and longer-bodied rabbits, all of which have elongated skulls or
are dolichocephalic.
From these several facts we can understand, to a certain extent, the
means by which the great size and more or less rounded form of the
skull have been acquired by man; and these are characters eminently
distinctive of him in comparison with the lower animals.
Another most conspicuous difference between man and the lower animals
is the nakedness of his skin. Whales and porpoises (Cetacea), dugongs
(Sirenia) and the hippopotamus are naked; and this may be advantageous
to them for gliding through the water; nor would it be injurious to
them from the loss of warmth, as the species, which inhabit the colder
regions, are protected by a thick layer of blubber, serving the same
purpose as the fur of seals and otters. Elephants and rhinoceroses are
almost hairless; and as certain extinct species, which formerly lived
under an Arctic climate, were covered with long wool or hair, it would
almost appear as if the existing species of both genera had lost their
hairy covering from exposure to heat. This appears the more probable,
as the elephants in India which live on elevated and cool districts are
more hairy (87. Owen, ‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. p. 619.) than
those on the lowlands. May we then infer that man became divested of
hair from having aboriginally inhabited some tropical land? That the
hair is chiefly retained in the male sex on the chest and face, and in
both sexes at the junction of all four limbs with the trunk, favours
this inference—on the assumption that the hair was lost before man
became erect; for the parts which now retain most hair would then have
been most protected from the heat of the sun. The crown of the head,
however, offers a curious exception, for at all times it must have been
one of the most exposed parts, yet it is thickly clothed with hair. The
fact, however, that the other members of the order of Primates, to
which man belongs, although inhabiting various hot regions, are well
clothed with hair, generally thickest on the upper surface (88. Isidore
Geoffroy St.-Hilaire remarks (‘Histoire Nat. Generale,’ tom. ii. 1859,
pp. 215-217) on the head of man being covered with long hair; also on
the upper surfaces of monkeys and of other mammals being more thickly
clothed than the lower surfaces. This has likewise been observed by
various authors. Prof. P. Gervais (‘Histoire Nat. des Mammifères,’ tom.
i. 1854, p. 28), however, states that in the Gorilla the hair is
thinner on the back, where it is partly rubbed off, than on the lower
surface.), is opposed to the supposition that man became naked through
the action of the sun. Mr. Belt believes (89. The ‘Naturalist in
Nicaragua,’ 1874, p. 209. As some confirmation of Mr. Belt’s view, I
may quote the following passage from Sir W. Denison (‘Varieties of
Vice-Regal Life,’ vol. i. 1870, p. 440): “It is said to be a practice
with the Australians, when the vermin get troublesome, to singe
themselves.”) that within the tropics it is an advantage to man to be
destitute of hair, as he is thus enabled to free himself of the
multitude of ticks (acari) and other parasites, with which he is often
infested, and which sometimes cause ulceration. But whether this evil
is of sufficient magnitude to have led to the denudation of his body
through natural selection, may be doubted, since none of the many
quadrupeds inhabiting the tropics have, as far as I know, acquired any
specialised means of relief. The view which seems to me the most
probable is that man, or rather primarily woman, became divested of
hair for ornamental purposes, as we shall see under Sexual Selection;
and, according to this belief, it is not surprising that man should
differ so greatly in hairiness from all other Primates, for characters,
gained through sexual selection, often differ to an extraordinary
degree in closely related forms.
According to a popular impression, the absence of a tail is eminently
distinctive of man; but as those apes which come nearest to him are
destitute of this organ, its disappearance does not relate exclusively
to man. The tail often differs remarkably in length within the same
genus: thus in some species of Macacus it is longer than the whole
body, and is formed of twenty-four vertebrae; in others it consists of
a scarcely visible stump, containing only three or four vertebrae. In
some kinds of baboons there are twenty-five, whilst in the mandrill
there are ten very small stunted caudal vertebrae, or, according to
Cuvier (90. Mr. St. George Mivart, ‘Proc. Zoolog. Soc.’ 1865, pp. 562,
583. Dr. J.E. Gray, ‘Cat. Brit. Mus.: ‘Skeletons.’ Owen, ‘Anatomy of
Vertebrates,’ vol. ii. p. 517. Isidore Geoffroy, ‘Hist. Nat. Gen.’ tom.
ii. p. 244.), sometimes only five. The tail, whether it be long or
short, almost always tapers towards the end; and this, I presume,
results from the atrophy of the terminal muscles, together with their
arteries and nerves, through disuse, leading to the atrophy of the
terminal bones. But no explanation can at present be given of the great
diversity which often occurs in its length. Here, however, we are more
specially concerned with the complete external disappearance of the
tail. Professor Broca has recently shewn (91. ‘Revue d’Anthropologie,’
1872; ‘La Constitution des vertèbres caudales.’) that the tail in all
quadrupeds consists of two portions, generally separated abruptly from
each other; the basal portion consists of vertebrae, more or less
perfectly channelled and furnished with apophyses like ordinary
vertebrae; whereas those of the terminal portion are not channelled,
are almost smooth, and scarcely resemble true vertebrae. A tail, though
not externally visible, is really present in man and the
anthropomorphous apes, and is constructed on exactly the same pattern
in both. In the terminal portion the vertebrae, constituting the os
coccyx, are quite rudimentary, being much reduced in size and number.
In the basal portion, the vertebrae are likewise few, are united firmly
together, and are arrested in development; but they have been rendered
much broader and flatter than the corresponding vertebrae in the tails
of other animals: they constitute what Broca calls the accessory sacral
vertebrae. These are of functional importance by supporting certain
internal parts and in other ways; and their modification is directly
connected with the erect or semi-erect attitude of man and the
anthropomorphous apes. This conclusion is the more trustworthy, as
Broca formerly held a different view, which he has now abandoned. The
modification, therefore, of the basal caudal vertebrae in man and the
higher apes may have been effected, directly or indirectly, through
natural selection.
But what are we to say about the rudimentary and variable vertebrae of
the terminal portion of the tail, forming the os coccyx? A notion which
has often been, and will no doubt again be ridiculed, namely, that
friction has had something to do with the disappearance of the external
portion of the tail, is not so ridiculous as it at first appears. Dr.
Anderson (92. ‘Proceedings Zoological Society,’ 1872, p. 210.) states
that the extremely short tail of Macacus brunneus is formed of eleven
vertebrae, including the imbedded basal ones. The extremity is
tendinous and contains no vertebrae; this is succeeded by five
rudimentary ones, so minute that together they are only one line and a
half in length, and these are permanently bent to one side in the shape
of a hook. The free part of the tail, only a little above an inch in
length, includes only four more small vertebrae. This short tail is
carried erect; but about a quarter of its total length is doubled on to
itself to the left; and this terminal part, which includes the
hook-like portion, serves “to fill up the interspace between the upper
divergent portion of the callosities;” so that the animal sits on it,
and thus renders it rough and callous. Dr. Anderson thus sums up his
observations: “These facts seem to me to have only one explanation;
this tail, from its short size, is in the monkey’s way when it sits
down, and frequently becomes placed under the animal while it is in
this attitude; and from the circumstance that it does not extend beyond
the extremity of the ischial tuberosities, it seems as if the tail
originally had been bent round by the will of the animal, into the
interspace between the callosities, to escape being pressed between
them and the ground, and that in time the curvature became permanent,
fitting in of itself when the organ happens to be sat upon.” Under
these circumstances it is not surprising that the surface of the tail
should have been roughened and rendered callous, and Dr. Murie (93.
‘Proceedings Zoological Society,’ 1872, p. 786.), who carefully
observed this species in the Zoological Gardens, as well as three other
closely allied forms with slightly longer tails, says that when the
animal sits down, the tail “is necessarily thrust to one side of the
buttocks; and whether long or short its root is consequently liable to
be rubbed or chafed.” As we now have evidence that mutilations
occasionally produce an inherited effect (94. I allude to Dr.
Brown-Sequard’s observations on the transmitted effect of an operation
causing epilepsy in guinea-pigs, and likewise more recently on the
analogous effects of cutting the sympathetic nerve in the neck. I shall
hereafter have occasion to refer to Mr. Salvin’s interesting case of
the apparently inherited effects of mot-mots biting off the barbs of
their own tail-feathers. See also on the general subject ‘Variation of
Animals and Plants under Domestication,’ vol. ii. pp. 22-24.), it is
not very improbable that in short-tailed monkeys, the projecting part
of the tail, being functionally useless, should after many generations
have become rudimentary and distorted, from being continually rubbed
and chafed. We see the projecting part in this condition in the Macacus
brunneus, and absolutely aborted in the M. ecaudatus and in several of
the higher apes. Finally, then, as far as we can judge, the tail has
disappeared in man and the anthropomorphous apes, owing to the terminal
portion having been injured by friction during a long lapse of time;
the basal and embedded portion having been reduced and modified, so as
to become suitable to the erect or semi-erect position.
I have now endeavoured to shew that some of the most distinctive
characters of man have in all probability been acquired, either
directly, or more commonly indirectly, through natural selection. We
should bear in mind that modifications in structure or constitution
which do not serve to adapt an organism to its habits of life, to the
food which it consumes, or passively to the surrounding conditions,
cannot have been thus acquired. We must not, however, be too confident
in deciding what modifications are of service to each being: we should
remember how little we know about the use of many parts, or what
changes in the blood or tissues may serve to fit an organism for a new
climate or new kinds of food. Nor must we forget the principle of
correlation, by which, as Isidore Geoffroy has shewn in the case of
man, many strange deviations of structure are tied together.
Independently of correlation, a change in one part often leads, through
the increased or decreased use of other parts, to other changes of a
quite unexpected nature. It is also well to reflect on such facts, as
the wonderful growth of galls on plants caused by the poison of an
insect, and on the remarkable changes of colour in the plumage of
parrots when fed on certain fishes, or inoculated with the poison of
toads (95. The ‘Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication,’
vol. ii. pp. 280, 282.); for we can thus see that the fluids of the
system, if altered for some special purpose, might induce other
changes. We should especially bear in mind that modifications acquired
and continually used during past ages for some useful purpose, would
probably become firmly fixed, and might be long inherited.
Thus a large yet undefined extension may safely be given to the direct
and indirect results of natural selection; but I now admit, after
reading the essay by Nageli on plants, and the remarks by various
authors with respect to animals, more especially those recently made by
Professor Broca, that in the earlier editions of my ‘Origin of Species’
I perhaps attributed too much to the action of natural selection or the
survival of the fittest. I have altered the fifth edition of the
‘Origin’ so as to confine my remarks to adaptive changes of structure;
but I am convinced, from the light gained during even the last few
years, that very many structures which now appear to us useless, will
hereafter be proved to be useful, and will therefore come within the
range of natural selection. Nevertheless, I did not formerly consider
sufficiently the existence of structures, which, as far as we can at
present judge, are neither beneficial nor injurious; and this I believe
to be one of the greatest oversights as yet detected in my work. I may
be permitted to say, as some excuse, that I had two distinct objects in
view; firstly, to shew that species had not been separately created,
and secondly, that natural selection had been the chief agent of
change, though largely aided by the inherited effects of habit, and
slightly by the direct action of the surrounding conditions. I was not,
however, able to annul the influence of my former belief, then almost
universal, that each species had been purposely created; and this led
to my tacit assumption that every detail of structure, excepting
rudiments, was of some special, though unrecognised, service. Any one
with this assumption in his mind would naturally extend too far the
action of natural selection, either during past or present times. Some
of those who admit the principle of evolution, but reject natural
selection, seem to forget, when criticising my book, that I had the
above two objects in view; hence if I have erred in giving to natural
selection great power, which I am very far from admitting, or in having
exaggerated its power, which is in itself probable, I have at least, as
I hope, done good service in aiding to overthrow the dogma of separate
creations.
It is, as I can now see, probable that all organic beings, including
man, possess peculiarities of structure, which neither are now, nor
were formerly of any service to them, and which, therefore, are of no
physiological importance. We know not what produces the numberless
slight differences between the individuals of each species, for
reversion only carries the problem a few steps backwards, but each
peculiarity must have had its efficient cause. If these causes,
whatever they may be, were to act more uniformly and energetically
during a lengthened period (and against this no reason can be
assigned), the result would probably be not a mere slight individual
difference, but a well-marked and constant modification, though one of
no physiological importance. Changed structures, which are in no way
beneficial, cannot be kept uniform through natural selection, though
the injurious will be thus eliminated. Uniformity of character would,
however, naturally follow from the assumed uniformity of the exciting
causes, and likewise from the free intercrossing of many individuals.
During successive periods, the same organism might in this manner
acquire successive modifications, which would be transmitted in a
nearly uniform state as long as the exciting causes remained the same
and there was free intercrossing. With respect to the exciting causes
we can only say, as when speaking of so-called spontaneous variations,
that they relate much more closely to the constitution of the varying
organism, than to the nature of the conditions to which it has been
subjected.
—CONCLUSION—
In this chapter we have seen that as man at the present day is liable,
like every other animal, to multiform individual differences or slight
variations, so no doubt were the early progenitors of man; the
variations being formerly induced by the same general causes, and
governed by the same general and complex laws as at present. As all
animals tend to multiply beyond their means of subsistence, so it must
have been with the progenitors of man; and this would inevitably lead
to a struggle for existence and to natural selection. The latter
process would be greatly aided by the inherited effects of the
increased use of parts, and these two processes would incessantly react
on each other. It appears, also, as we shall hereafter see, that
various unimportant characters have been acquired by man through sexual
selection. An unexplained residuum of change must be left to the
assumed uniform action of those unknown agencies, which occasionally
induce strongly marked and abrupt deviations of structure in our
domestic productions.
Judging from the habits of savages and of the greater number of the
Quadrumana, primeval men, and even their ape-like progenitors, probably
lived in society. With strictly social animals, natural selection
sometimes acts on the individual, through the preservation of
variations which are beneficial to the community. A community which
includes a large number of well-endowed individuals increases in
number, and is victorious over other less favoured ones; even although
each separate member gains no advantage over the others of the same
community. Associated insects have thus acquired many remarkable
structures, which are of little or no service to the individual, such
as the pollen-collecting apparatus, or the sting of the worker-bee, or
the great jaws of soldier-ants. With the higher social animals, I am
not aware that any structure has been modified solely for the good of
the community, though some are of secondary service to it. For
instance, the horns of ruminants and the great canine teeth of baboons
appear to have been acquired by the males as weapons for sexual strife,
but they are used in defence of the herd or troop. In regard to certain
mental powers the case, as we shall see in the fifth chapter, is wholly
different; for these faculties have been chiefly, or even exclusively,
gained for the benefit of the community, and the individuals thereof
have at the same time gained an advantage indirectly.
It has often been objected to such views as the foregoing, that man is
one of the most helpless and defenceless creatures in the world; and
that during his early and less well-developed condition, he would have
been still more helpless. The Duke of Argyll, for instance, insists
(96. ‘Primeval Man,’ 1869, p. 66.) that “the human frame has diverged
from the structure of brutes, in the direction of greater physical
helplessness and weakness. That is to say, it is a divergence which of
all others it is most impossible to ascribe to mere natural selection.”
He adduces the naked and unprotected state of the body, the absence of
great teeth or claws for defence, the small strength and speed of man,
and his slight power of discovering food or of avoiding danger by
smell. To these deficiencies there might be added one still more
serious, namely, that he cannot climb quickly, and so escape from
enemies. The loss of hair would not have been a great injury to the
inhabitants of a warm country. For we know that the unclothed Fuegians
can exist under a wretched climate. When we compare the defenceless
state of man with that of apes, we must remember that the great canine
teeth with which the latter are provided, are possessed in their full
development by the males alone, and are chiefly used by them for
fighting with their rivals; yet the females, which are not thus
provided, manage to survive.
In regard to bodily size or strength, we do not know whether man is
descended from some small species, like the chimpanzee, or from one as
powerful as the gorilla; and, therefore, we cannot say whether man has
become larger and stronger, or smaller and weaker, than his ancestors.
We should, however, bear in mind that an animal possessing great size,
strength, and ferocity, and which, like the gorilla, could defend
itself from all enemies, would not perhaps have become social: and this
would most effectually have checked the acquirement of the higher
mental qualities, such as sympathy and the love of his fellows. Hence
it might have been an immense advantage to man to have sprung from some
comparatively weak creature.
The small strength and speed of man, his want of natural weapons, etc.,
are more than counterbalanced, firstly, by his intellectual powers,
through which he has formed for himself weapons, tools, etc., though
still remaining in a barbarous state, and, secondly, by his social
qualities which lead him to give and receive aid from his fellow-men.
No country in the world abounds in a greater degree with dangerous
beasts than Southern Africa; no country presents more fearful physical
hardships than the Arctic regions; yet one of the puniest of races,
that of the Bushmen, maintains itself in Southern Africa, as do the
dwarfed Esquimaux in the Arctic regions. The ancestors of man were, no
doubt, inferior in intellect, and probably in social disposition, to
the lowest existing savages; but it is quite conceivable that they
might have existed, or even flourished, if they had advanced in
intellect, whilst gradually losing their brute-like powers, such as
that of climbing trees, etc. But these ancestors would not have been
exposed to any special danger, even if far more helpless and
defenceless than any existing savages, had they inhabited some warm
continent or large island, such as Australia, New Guinea, or Borneo,
which is now the home of the orang. And natural selection arising from
the competition of tribe with tribe, in some such large area as one of
these, together with the inherited effects of habit, would, under
favourable conditions, have sufficed to raise man to his present high
position in the organic scale.
CHAPTER III.
COMPARISON OF THE MENTAL POWERS OF MAN AND THE LOWER ANIMALS.
The difference in mental power between the highest ape and the lowest
savage, immense—Certain instincts in common—The
emotions—Curiosity—Imitation—Attention—Memory—
Imagination—Reason—Progressive improvement —Tools and weapons used by
animals—Abstraction, Self-consciousness—Language—Sense of beauty—Belief
in God, spiritual agencies, superstitions.
We have seen in the last two chapters that man bears in his bodily
structure clear traces of his descent from some lower form; but it may
be urged that, as man differs so greatly in his mental power from all
other animals, there must be some error in this conclusion. No doubt
the difference in this respect is enormous, even if we compare the mind
of one of the lowest savages, who has no words to express any number
higher than four, and who uses hardly any abstract terms for common
objects or for the affections (1. See the evidence on those points, as
given by Lubbock, ‘Prehistoric Times,’ p. 354, etc.), with that of the
most highly organised ape. The difference would, no doubt, still remain
immense, even if one of the higher apes had been improved or civilised
as much as a dog has been in comparison with its parent-form, the wolf
or jackal. The Fuegians rank amongst the lowest barbarians; but I was
continually struck with surprise how closely the three natives on board
H.M.S. “Beagle,” who had lived some years in England, and could talk a
little English, resembled us in disposition and in most of our mental
faculties. If no organic being excepting man had possessed any mental
power, or if his powers had been of a wholly different nature from
those of the lower animals, then we should never have been able to
convince ourselves that our high faculties had been gradually
developed. But it can be shewn that there is no fundamental difference
of this kind. We must also admit that there is a much wider interval in
mental power between one of the lowest fishes, as a lamprey or
lancelet, and one of the higher apes, than between an ape and man; yet
this interval is filled up by numberless gradations.
Nor is the difference slight in moral disposition between a barbarian,
such as the man described by the old navigator Byron, who dashed his
child on the rocks for dropping a basket of sea-urchins, and a Howard
or Clarkson; and in intellect, between a savage who uses hardly any
abstract terms, and a Newton or Shakspeare. Differences of this kind
between the highest men of the highest races and the lowest savages,
are connected by the finest gradations. Therefore it is possible that
they might pass and be developed into each other.
My object in this chapter is to shew that there is no fundamental
difference between man and the higher mammals in their mental
faculties. Each division of the subject might have been extended into a
separate essay, but must here be treated briefly. As no classification
of the mental powers has been universally accepted, I shall arrange my
remarks in the order most convenient for my purpose; and will select
those facts which have struck me most, with the hope that they may
produce some effect on the reader.
With respect to animals very low in the scale, I shall give some
additional facts under Sexual Selection, shewing that their mental
powers are much higher than might have been expected. The variability
of the faculties in the individuals of the same species is an important
point for us, and some few illustrations will here be given. But it
would be superfluous to enter into many details on this head, for I
have found on frequent enquiry, that it is the unanimous opinion of all
those who have long attended to animals of many kinds, including birds,
that the individuals differ greatly in every mental characteristic. In
what manner the mental powers were first developed in the lowest
organisms, is as hopeless an enquiry as how life itself first
originated. These are problems for the distant future, if they are ever
to be solved by man.
As man possesses the same senses as the lower animals, his fundamental
intuitions must be the same. Man has also some few instincts in common,
as that of self-preservation, sexual love, the love of the mother for
her new-born offspring, the desire possessed by the latter to suck, and
so forth. But man, perhaps, has somewhat fewer instincts than those
possessed by the animals which come next to him in the series. The
orang in the Eastern islands, and the chimpanzee in Africa, build
platforms on which they sleep; and, as both species follow the same
habit, it might be argued that this was due to instinct, but we cannot
feel sure that it is not the result of both animals having similar
wants, and possessing similar powers of reasoning. These apes, as we
may assume, avoid the many poisonous fruits of the tropics, and man has
no such knowledge: but as our domestic animals, when taken to foreign
lands, and when first turned out in the spring, often eat poisonous
herbs, which they afterwards avoid, we cannot feel sure that the apes
do not learn from their own experience or from that of their parents
what fruits to select. It is, however, certain, as we shall presently
see, that apes have an instinctive dread of serpents, and probably of
other dangerous animals.
The fewness and the comparative simplicity of the instincts in the
higher animals are remarkable in contrast with those of the lower
animals. Cuvier maintained that instinct and intelligence stand in an
inverse ratio to each other; and some have thought that the
intellectual faculties of the higher animals have been gradually
developed from their instincts. But Pouchet, in an interesting essay
(2. ‘L’Instinct chez les Insectes,’ ‘Revue des Deux Mondes,’ Feb. 1870,
p. 690.), has shewn that no such inverse ratio really exists. Those
insects which possess the most wonderful instincts are certainly the
most intelligent. In the vertebrate series, the least intelligent
members, namely fishes and amphibians, do not possess complex
instincts; and amongst mammals the animal most remarkable for its
instincts, namely the beaver, is highly intelligent, as will be
admitted by every one who has read Mr. Morgan’s excellent work. (3.
‘The American Beaver and His Works,’ 1868.)
Although the first dawnings of intelligence, according to Mr. Herbert
Spencer (4. ‘The Principles of Psychology,’ 2nd edit., 1870, pp.
418-443.), have been developed through the multiplication and
co-ordination of reflex actions, and although many of the simpler
instincts graduate into reflex actions, and can hardly be distinguished
from them, as in the case of young animals sucking, yet the more
complex instincts seem to have originated independently of
intelligence. I am, however, very far from wishing to deny that
instinctive actions may lose their fixed and untaught character, and be
replaced by others performed by the aid of the free will. On the other
hand, some intelligent actions, after being performed during several
generations, become converted into instincts and are inherited, as when
birds on oceanic islands learn to avoid man. These actions may then be
said to be degraded in character, for they are no longer performed
through reason or from experience. But the greater number of the more
complex instincts appear to have been gained in a wholly different
manner, through the natural selection of variations of simpler
instinctive actions. Such variations appear to arise from the same
unknown causes acting on the cerebral organisation, which induce slight
variations or individual differences in other parts of the body; and
these variations, owing to our ignorance, are often said to arise
spontaneously. We can, I think, come to no other conclusion with
respect to the origin of the more complex instincts, when we reflect on
the marvellous instincts of sterile worker-ants and bees, which leave
no offspring to inherit the effects of experience and of modified
habits.
Although, as we learn from the above-mentioned insects and the beaver,
a high degree of intelligence is certainly compatible with complex
instincts, and although actions, at first learnt voluntarily can soon
through habit be performed with the quickness and certainty of a reflex
action, yet it is not improbable that there is a certain amount of
interference between the development of free intelligence and of
instinct,—which latter implies some inherited modification of the
brain. Little is known about the functions of the brain, but we can
perceive that as the intellectual powers become highly developed, the
various parts of the brain must be connected by very intricate channels
of the freest intercommunication; and as a consequence each separate
part would perhaps tend to be less well fitted to answer to particular
sensations or associations in a definite and inherited—that is
instinctive—manner. There seems even to exist some relation between a
low degree of intelligence and a strong tendency to the formation of
fixed, though not inherited habits; for as a sagacious physician
remarked to me, persons who are slightly imbecile tend to act in
everything by routine or habit; and they are rendered much happier if
this is encouraged.
I have thought this digression worth giving, because we may easily
underrate the mental powers of the higher animals, and especially of
man, when we compare their actions founded on the memory of past
events, on foresight, reason, and imagination, with exactly similar
actions instinctively performed by the lower animals; in this latter
case the capacity of performing such actions has been gained, step by
step, through the variability of the mental organs and natural
selection, without any conscious intelligence on the part of the animal
during each successive generation. No doubt, as Mr. Wallace has argued
(5. ‘Contributions to the Theory of Natural Selection,’ 1870, p. 212.),
much of the intelligent work done by man is due to imitation and not to
reason; but there is this great difference between his actions and many
of those performed by the lower animals, namely, that man cannot, on
his first trial, make, for instance, a stone hatchet or a canoe,
through his power of imitation. He has to learn his work by practice; a
beaver, on the other hand, can make its dam or canal, and a bird its
nest, as well, or nearly as well, and a spider its wonderful web, quite
as well (6. For the evidence on this head, see Mr. J. Traherne
Moggridge’s most interesting work, ‘Harvesting Ants and Trap-Door
Spiders,’ 1873, pp. 126, 128.), the first time it tries as when old and
experienced.
To return to our immediate subject: the lower animals, like man,
manifestly feel pleasure and pain, happiness and misery. Happiness is
never better exhibited than by young animals, such as puppies, kittens,
lambs, etc., when playing together, like our own children. Even insects
play together, as has been described by that excellent observer, P.
Huber (7. ‘Recherches sur les Moeurs des Fourmis,’ 1810, p. 173.), who
saw ants chasing and pretending to bite each other, like so many
puppies.
The fact that the lower animals are excited by the same emotions as
ourselves is so well established, that it will not be necessary to
weary the reader by many details. Terror acts in the same manner on
them as on us, causing the muscles to tremble, the heart to palpitate,
the sphincters to be relaxed, and the hair to stand on end. Suspicion,
the offspring of fear, is eminently characteristic of most wild
animals. It is, I think, impossible to read the account given by Sir E.
Tennent, of the behaviour of the female elephants, used as decoys,
without admitting that they intentionally practise deceit, and well
know what they are about. Courage and timidity are extremely variable
qualities in the individuals of the same species, as is plainly seen in
our dogs. Some dogs and horses are ill-tempered, and easily turn sulky;
others are good-tempered; and these qualities are certainly inherited.
Every one knows how liable animals are to furious rage, and how plainly
they shew it. Many, and probably true, anecdotes have been published on
the long-delayed and artful revenge of various animals. The accurate
Rengger, and Brehm (8. All the following statements, given on the
authority of these two naturalists, are taken from Rengger’s
‘Naturgesch. der Säugethiere von Paraguay,’ 1830, s. 41-57, and from
Brehm’s ‘Thierleben,’ B. i. s. 10-87.) state that the American and
African monkeys which they kept tame, certainly revenged themselves.
Sir Andrew Smith, a zoologist whose scrupulous accuracy was known to
many persons, told me the following story of which he was himself an
eye-witness; at the Cape of Good Hope an officer had often plagued a
certain baboon, and the animal, seeing him approaching one Sunday for
parade, poured water into a hole and hastily made some thick mud, which
he skilfully dashed over the officer as he passed by, to the amusement
of many bystanders. For long afterwards the baboon rejoiced and
triumphed whenever he saw his victim.
The love of a dog for his master is notorious; as an old writer
quaintly says (9. Quoted by Dr. Lauder Lindsay, in his ‘Physiology of
Mind in the Lower Animals,’ ‘Journal of Mental Science,’ April 1871, p.
38.), “A dog is the only thing on this earth that luvs you more than he
luvs himself.”
In the agony of death a dog has been known to caress his master, and
every one has heard of the dog suffering under vivisection, who licked
the hand of the operator; this man, unless the operation was fully
justified by an increase of our knowledge, or unless he had a heart of
stone, must have felt remorse to the last hour of his life.
As Whewell (10. ‘Bridgewater Treatise,’ p. 263.) has well asked, “who
that reads the touching instances of maternal affection, related so
often of the women of all nations, and of the females of all animals,
can doubt that the principle of action is the same in the two cases?”
We see maternal affection exhibited in the most trifling details; thus
Rengger observed an American monkey (a Cebus) carefully driving away
the flies which plagued her infant; and Duvaucel saw a Hylobates
washing the faces of her young ones in a stream. So intense is the
grief of female monkeys for the loss of their young, that it invariably
caused the death of certain kinds kept under confinement by Brehm in N.
Africa. Orphan monkeys were always adopted and carefully guarded by the
other monkeys, both males and females. One female baboon had so
capacious a heart that she not only adopted young monkeys of other
species, but stole young dogs and cats, which she continually carried
about. Her kindness, however, did not go so far as to share her food
with her adopted offspring, at which Brehm was surprised, as his
monkeys always divided everything quite fairly with their own young
ones. An adopted kitten scratched this affectionate baboon, who
certainly had a fine intellect, for she was much astonished at being
scratched, and immediately examined the kitten’s feet, and without more
ado bit off the claws. (11. A critic, without any grounds (‘Quarterly
Review,’ July 1871, p. 72), disputes the possibility of this act as
described by Brehm, for the sake of discrediting my work. Therefore I
tried, and found that I could readily seize with my own teeth the sharp
little claws of a kitten nearly five weeks old.) In the Zoological
Gardens, I heard from the keeper that an old baboon (C. chacma) had
adopted a Rhesus monkey; but when a young drill and mandrill were
placed in the cage, she seemed to perceive that these monkeys, though
distinct species, were her nearer relatives, for she at once rejected
the Rhesus and adopted both of them. The young Rhesus, as I saw, was
greatly discontented at being thus rejected, and it would, like a
naughty child, annoy and attack the young drill and mandrill whenever
it could do so with safety; this conduct exciting great indignation in
the old baboon. Monkeys will also, according to Brehm, defend their
master when attacked by any one, as well as dogs to whom they are
attached, from the attacks of other dogs. But we here trench on the
subjects of sympathy and fidelity, to which I shall recur. Some of
Brehm’s monkeys took much delight in teasing a certain old dog whom
they disliked, as well as other animals, in various ingenious ways.
Most of the more complex emotions are common to the higher animals and
ourselves. Every one has seen how jealous a dog is of his master’s
affection, if lavished on any other creature; and I have observed the
same fact with monkeys. This shews that animals not only love, but have
desire to be loved. Animals manifestly feel emulation. They love
approbation or praise; and a dog carrying a basket for his master
exhibits in a high degree self-complacency or pride. There can, I
think, be no doubt that a dog feels shame, as distinct from fear, and
something very like modesty when begging too often for food. A great
dog scorns the snarling of a little dog, and this may be called
magnanimity. Several observers have stated that monkeys certainly
dislike being laughed at; and they sometimes invent imaginary offences.
In the Zoological Gardens I saw a baboon who always got into a furious
rage when his keeper took out a letter or book and read it aloud to
him; and his rage was so violent that, as I witnessed on one occasion,
he bit his own leg till the blood flowed. Dogs shew what may be fairly
called a sense of humour, as distinct from mere play; if a bit of stick
or other such object be thrown to one, he will often carry it away for
a short distance; and then squatting down with it on the ground close
before him, will wait until his master comes quite close to take it
away. The dog will then seize it and rush away in triumph, repeating
the same manoeuvre, and evidently enjoying the practical joke.
We will now turn to the more intellectual emotions and faculties, which
are very important, as forming the basis for the development of the
higher mental powers. Animals manifestly enjoy excitement, and suffer
from ennui, as may be seen with dogs, and, according to Rengger, with
monkeys. All animals feel WONDER, and many exhibit CURIOSITY. They
sometimes suffer from this latter quality, as when the hunter plays
antics and thus attracts them; I have witnessed this with deer, and so
it is with the wary chamois, and with some kinds of wild-ducks. Brehm
gives a curious account of the instinctive dread, which his monkeys
exhibited, for snakes; but their curiosity was so great that they could
not desist from occasionally satiating their horror in a most human
fashion, by lifting up the lid of the box in which the snakes were
kept. I was so much surprised at his account, that I took a stuffed and
coiled-up snake into the monkey-house at the Zoological Gardens, and
the excitement thus caused was one of the most curious spectacles which
I ever beheld. Three species of Cercopithecus were the most alarmed;
they dashed about their cages, and uttered sharp signal cries of
danger, which were understood by the other monkeys. A few young monkeys
and one old Anubis baboon alone took no notice of the snake. I then
placed the stuffed specimen on the ground in one of the larger
compartments. After a time all the monkeys collected round it in a
large circle, and staring intently, presented a most ludicrous
appearance. They became extremely nervous; so that when a wooden ball,
with which they were familiar as a plaything, was accidentally moved in
the straw, under which it was partly hidden, they all instantly started
away. These monkeys behaved very differently when a dead fish, a mouse
(12. I have given a short account of their behaviour on this occasion
in my ‘Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals,’ p. 43.), a
living turtle, and other new objects were placed in their cages; for
though at first frightened, they soon approached, handled and examined
them. I then placed a live snake in a paper bag, with the mouth loosely
closed, in one of the larger compartments. One of the monkeys
immediately approached, cautiously opened the bag a little, peeped in,
and instantly dashed away. Then I witnessed what Brehm has described,
for monkey after monkey, with head raised high and turned on one side,
could not resist taking a momentary peep into the upright bag, at the
dreadful object lying quietly at the bottom. It would almost appear as
if monkeys had some notion of zoological affinities, for those kept by
Brehm exhibited a strange, though mistaken, instinctive dread of
innocent lizards and frogs. An orang, also, has been known to be much
alarmed at the first sight of a turtle. (13. W.C.L. Martin, ‘Natural
History of Mammalia,’ 1841, p. 405.)
The principle of IMITATION is strong in man, and especially, as I have
myself observed, with savages. In certain morbid states of the brain
this tendency is exaggerated to an extraordinary degree: some
hemiplegic patients and others, at the commencement of inflammatory
softening of the brain, unconsciously imitate every word which is
uttered, whether in their own or in a foreign language, and every
gesture or action which is performed near them. (14. Dr. Bateman, ‘On
Aphasia,’ 1870, p. 110.) Desor (15. Quoted by Vogt, ‘Mémoire sur les
Microcephales,’ 1867, p. 168.) has remarked that no animal voluntarily
imitates an action performed by man, until in the ascending scale we
come to monkeys, which are well known to be ridiculous mockers.
Animals, however, sometimes imitate each other’s actions: thus two
species of wolves, which had been reared by dogs, learned to bark, as
does sometimes the jackal (16. The ‘Variation of Animals and Plants
under Domestication,’ vol. i. p. 27.), but whether this can be called
voluntary imitation is another question. Birds imitate the songs of
their parents, and sometimes of other birds; and parrots are notorious
imitators of any sound which they often hear. Dureau de la Malle gives
an account (17. ‘Annales des Sciences Nat.’ (1st Series), tom. xxii. p.
397.) of a dog reared by a cat, who learnt to imitate the well-known
action of a cat licking her paws, and thus washing her ears and face;
this was also witnessed by the celebrated naturalist Audouin. I have
received several confirmatory accounts; in one of these, a dog had not
been suckled by a cat, but had been brought up with one, together with
kittens, and had thus acquired the above habit, which he ever
afterwards practised during his life of thirteen years. Dureau de la
Malle’s dog likewise learnt from the kittens to play with a ball by
rolling it about with his fore paws, and springing on it. A
correspondent assures me that a cat in his house used to put her paws
into jugs of milk having too narrow a mouth for her head. A kitten of
this cat soon learned the same trick, and practised it ever afterwards,
whenever there was an opportunity.
The parents of many animals, trusting to the principle of imitation in
their young, and more especially to their instinctive or inherited
tendencies, may be said to educate them. We see this when a cat brings
a live mouse to her kittens; and Dureau de la Malle has given a curious
account (in the paper above quoted) of his observations on hawks which
taught their young dexterity, as well as judgment of distances, by
first dropping through the air dead mice and sparrows, which the young
generally failed to catch, and then bringing them live birds and
letting them loose.
Hardly any faculty is more important for the intellectual progress of
man than ATTENTION. Animals clearly manifest this power, as when a cat
watches by a hole and prepares to spring on its prey. Wild animals
sometimes become so absorbed when thus engaged, that they may be easily
approached. Mr. Bartlett has given me a curious proof how variable this
faculty is in monkeys. A man who trains monkeys to act in plays, used
to purchase common kinds from the Zoological Society at the price of
five pounds for each; but he offered to give double the price, if he
might keep three or four of them for a few days, in order to select
one. When asked how he could possibly learn so soon, whether a
particular monkey would turn out a good actor, he answered that it all
depended on their power of attention. If when he was talking and
explaining anything to a monkey, its attention was easily distracted,
as by a fly on the wall or other trifling object, the case was
hopeless. If he tried by punishment to make an inattentive monkey act,
it turned sulky. On the other hand, a monkey which carefully attended
to him could always be trained.
It is almost superfluous to state that animals have excellent MEMORIES
for persons and places. A baboon at the Cape of Good Hope, as I have
been informed by Sir Andrew Smith, recognised him with joy after an
absence of nine months. I had a dog who was savage and averse to all
strangers, and I purposely tried his memory after an absence of five
years and two days. I went near the stable where he lived, and shouted
to him in my old manner; he shewed no joy, but instantly followed me
out walking, and obeyed me, exactly as if I had parted with him only
half an hour before. A train of old associations, dormant during five
years, had thus been instantaneously awakened in his mind. Even ants,
as P. Huber (18. ‘Les Moeurs des Fourmis,’ 1810, p. 150.) has clearly
shewn, recognised their fellow-ants belonging to the same community
after a separation of four months. Animals can certainly by some means
judge of the intervals of time between recurrent events.
The IMAGINATION is one of the highest prerogatives of man. By this
faculty he unites former images and ideas, independently of the will,
and thus creates brilliant and novel results. A poet, as Jean Paul
Richter remarks (19. Quoted in Dr. Maudsley’s ‘Physiology and Pathology
of Mind,’ 1868, pp. 19, 220.), “who must reflect whether he shall make
a character say yes or no—to the devil with him; he is only a stupid
corpse.” Dreaming gives us the best notion of this power; as Jean Paul
again says, “The dream is an involuntary art of poetry.” The value of
the products of our imagination depends of course on the number,
accuracy, and clearness of our impressions, on our judgment and taste
in selecting or rejecting the involuntary combinations, and to a
certain extent on our power of voluntarily combining them. As dogs,
cats, horses, and probably all the higher animals, even birds (20. Dr.
Jerdon, ‘Birds of India,’ vol. i. 1862, p. xxi. Houzeau says that his
parokeets and canary-birds dreamt: ‘Etudes sur les Facultes Mentales
des Animaux,’ tom. ii. p. 136.) have vivid dreams, and this is shewn by
their movements and the sounds uttered, we must admit that they possess
some power of imagination. There must be something special, which
causes dogs to howl in the night, and especially during moonlight, in
that remarkable and melancholy manner called baying. All dogs do not do
so; and, according to Houzeau (21. ibid. 1872, tom. ii. p. 181.), they
do not then look at the moon, but at some fixed point near the horizon.
Houzeau thinks that their imaginations are disturbed by the vague
outlines of the surrounding objects, and conjure up before them
fantastic images: if this be so, their feelings may almost be called
superstitious.
Of all the faculties of the human mind, it will, I presume, be admitted
that REASON stands at the summit. Only a few persons now dispute that
animals possess some power of reasoning. Animals may constantly be seen
to pause, deliberate, and resolve. It is a significant fact, that the
more the habits of any particular animal are studied by a naturalist,
the more he attributes to reason and the less to unlearnt instincts.
(22. Mr. L.H. Morgan’s work on ‘The American Beaver,’ 1868, offers a
good illustration of this remark. I cannot help thinking, however, that
he goes too far in underrating the power of instinct.) In future
chapters we shall see that some animals extremely low in the scale
apparently display a certain amount of reason. No doubt it is often
difficult to distinguish between the power of reason and that of
instinct. For instance, Dr. Hayes, in his work on ‘The Open Polar Sea,’
repeatedly remarks that his dogs, instead of continuing to draw the
sledges in a compact body, diverged and separated when they came to
thin ice, so that their weight might be more evenly distributed. This
was often the first warning which the travellers received that the ice
was becoming thin and dangerous. Now, did the dogs act thus from the
experience of each individual, or from the example of the older and
wiser dogs, or from an inherited habit, that is from instinct? This
instinct, may possibly have arisen since the time, long ago, when dogs
were first employed by the natives in drawing their sledges; or the
Arctic wolves, the parent-stock of the Esquimaux dog, may have acquired
an instinct impelling them not to attack their prey in a close pack,
when on thin ice.
We can only judge by the circumstances under which actions are
performed, whether they are due to instinct, or to reason, or to the
mere association of ideas: this latter principle, however, is
intimately connected with reason. A curious case has been given by
Prof. Mobius (23. ‘Die Bewegungen der Thiere,’ etc., 1873, p. 11.), of
a pike, separated by a plate of glass from an adjoining aquarium
stocked with fish, and who often dashed himself with such violence
against the glass in trying to catch the other fishes, that he was
sometimes completely stunned. The pike went on thus for three months,
but at last learnt caution, and ceased to do so. The plate of glass was
then removed, but the pike would not attack these particular fishes,
though he would devour others which were afterwards introduced; so
strongly was the idea of a violent shock associated in his feeble mind
with the attempt on his former neighbours. If a savage, who had never
seen a large plate-glass window, were to dash himself even once against
it, he would for a long time afterwards associate a shock with a
window-frame; but very differently from the pike, he would probably
reflect on the nature of the impediment, and be cautious under
analogous circumstances. Now with monkeys, as we shall presently see, a
painful or merely a disagreeable impression, from an action once
performed, is sometimes sufficient to prevent the animal from repeating
it. If we attribute this difference between the monkey and the pike
solely to the association of ideas being so much stronger and more
persistent in the one than the other, though the pike often received
much the more severe injury, can we maintain in the case of man that a
similar difference implies the possession of a fundamentally different
mind?
Houzeau relates (24. ‘Études sur les Facultés Mentales des Animaux,’
1872, tom. ii. p. 265.) that, whilst crossing a wide and arid plain in
Texas, his two dogs suffered greatly from thirst, and that between
thirty and forty times they rushed down the hollows to search for
water. These hollows were not valleys, and there were no trees in them,
or any other difference in the vegetation, and as they were absolutely
dry there could have been no smell of damp earth. The dogs behaved as
if they knew that a dip in the ground offered them the best chance of
finding water, and Houzeau has often witnessed the same behaviour in
other animals.
I have seen, as I daresay have others, that when a small object is
thrown on the ground beyond the reach of one of the elephants in the
Zoological Gardens, he blows through his trunk on the ground beyond the
object, so that the current reflected on all sides may drive the object
within his reach. Again a well-known ethnologist, Mr. Westropp, informs
me that he observed in Vienna a bear deliberately making with his paw a
current in some water, which was close to the bars of his cage, so as
to draw a piece of floating bread within his reach. These actions of
the elephant and bear can hardly be attributed to instinct or inherited
habit, as they would be of little use to an animal in a state of
nature. Now, what is the difference between such actions, when
performed by an uncultivated man, and by one of the higher animals?
The savage and the dog have often found water at a low level, and the
coincidence under such circumstances has become associated in their
minds. A cultivated man would perhaps make some general proposition on
the subject; but from all that we know of savages it is extremely
doubtful whether they would do so, and a dog certainly would not. But a
savage, as well as a dog, would search in the same way, though
frequently disappointed; and in both it seems to be equally an act of
reason, whether or not any general proposition on the subject is
consciously placed before the mind. (25. Prof. Huxley has analysed with
admirable clearness the mental steps by which a man, as well as a dog,
arrives at a conclusion in a case analogous to that given in my text.
See his article, ‘Mr. Darwin’s Critics,’ in the ‘Contemporary Review,’
Nov. 1871, p. 462, and in his ‘Critiques and Essays,’ 1873, p. 279.)
The same would apply to the elephant and the bear making currents in
the air or water. The savage would certainly neither know nor care by
what law the desired movements were effected; yet his act would be
guided by a rude process of reasoning, as surely as would a philosopher
in his longest chain of deductions. There would no doubt be this
difference between him and one of the higher animals, that he would
take notice of much slighter circumstances and conditions, and would
observe any connection between them after much less experience, and
this would be of paramount importance. I kept a daily record of the
actions of one of my infants, and when he was about eleven months old,
and before he could speak a single word, I was continually struck with
the greater quickness, with which all sorts of objects and sounds were
associated together in his mind, compared with that of the most
intelligent dogs I ever knew. But the higher animals differ in exactly
the same way in this power of association from those low in the scale,
such as the pike, as well as in that of drawing inferences and of
observation.
The promptings of reason, after very short experience, are well shewn
by the following actions of American monkeys, which stand low in their
order. Rengger, a most careful observer, states that when he first gave
eggs to his monkeys in Paraguay, they smashed them, and thus lost much
of their contents; afterwards they gently hit one end against some hard
body, and picked off the bits of shell with their fingers. After
cutting themselves only ONCE with any sharp tool, they would not touch
it again, or would handle it with the greatest caution. Lumps of sugar
were often given them wrapped up in paper; and Rengger sometimes put a
live wasp in the paper, so that in hastily unfolding it they got stung;
after this had ONCE happened, they always first held the packet to
their ears to detect any movement within. (26. Mr. Belt, in his most
interesting work, ‘The Naturalist in Nicaragua,’ 1874, (p. 119),
likewise describes various actions of a tamed Cebus, which, I think,
clearly shew that this animal possessed some reasoning power.)
The following cases relate to dogs. Mr. Colquhoun (27. ‘The Moor and
the Loch,’ p. 45. Col. Hutchinson on ‘Dog Breaking,’ 1850, p. 46.)
winged two wild-ducks, which fell on the further side of a stream; his
retriever tried to bring over both at once, but could not succeed; she
then, though never before known to ruffle a feather, deliberately
killed one, brought over the other, and returned for the dead bird.
Col. Hutchinson relates that two partridges were shot at once, one
being killed, the other wounded; the latter ran away, and was caught by
the retriever, who on her return came across the dead bird; “she
stopped, evidently greatly puzzled, and after one or two trials,
finding she could not take it up without permitting the escape of the
winged bird, she considered a moment, then deliberately murdered it by
giving it a severe crunch, and afterwards brought away both together.
This was the only known instance of her ever having wilfully injured
any game.” Here we have reason though not quite perfect, for the
retriever might have brought the wounded bird first and then returned
for the dead one, as in the case of the two wild-ducks. I give the
above cases, as resting on the evidence of two independent witnesses,
and because in both instances the retrievers, after deliberation, broke
through a habit which is inherited by them (that of not killing the
game retrieved), and because they shew how strong their reasoning
faculty must have been to overcome a fixed habit.
I will conclude by quoting a remark by the illustrious Humboldt. (28.
‘Personal Narrative,’ Eng. translat., vol. iii. p. 106.) “The muleteers
in S. America say, ‘I will not give you the mule whose step is easiest,
but la mas racional,—the one that reasons best’”; and; as, he adds,
“this popular expression, dictated by long experience, combats the
system of animated machines, better perhaps than all the arguments of
speculative philosophy.” Nevertheless some writers even yet deny that
the higher animals possess a trace of reason; and they endeavour to
explain away, by what appears to be mere verbiage, (29. I am glad to
find that so acute a reasoner as Mr. Leslie Stephen (‘Darwinism and
Divinity, Essays on Free Thinking,’ 1873, p. 80), in speaking of the
supposed impassable barrier between the minds of man and the lower
animals, says, “The distinctions, indeed, which have been drawn, seem
to us to rest upon no better foundation than a great many other
metaphysical distinctions; that is, the assumption that because you can
give two things different names, they must therefore have different
natures. It is difficult to understand how anybody who has ever kept a
dog, or seen an elephant, can have any doubt as to an animal’s power of
performing the essential processes of reasoning.”) all such facts as
those above given.
It has, I think, now been shewn that man and the higher animals,
especially the Primates, have some few instincts in common. All have
the same senses, intuitions, and sensations,—similar passions,
affections, and emotions, even the more complex ones, such as jealousy,
suspicion, emulation, gratitude, and magnanimity; they practise deceit
and are revengeful; they are sometimes susceptible to ridicule, and
even have a sense of humour; they feel wonder and curiosity; they
possess the same faculties of imitation, attention, deliberation,
choice, memory, imagination, the association of ideas, and reason,
though in very different degrees. The individuals of the same species
graduate in intellect from absolute imbecility to high excellence. They
are also liable to insanity, though far less often than in the case of
man. (30. See ‘Madness in Animals,’ by Dr. W. Lauder Lindsay, in
‘Journal of Mental Science,’ July 1871.) Nevertheless, many authors
have insisted that man is divided by an insuperable barrier from all
the lower animals in his mental faculties. I formerly made a collection
of above a score of such aphorisms, but they are almost worthless, as
their wide difference and number prove the difficulty, if not the
impossibility, of the attempt. It has been asserted that man alone is
capable of progressive improvement; that he alone makes use of tools or
fire, domesticates other animals, or possesses property; that no animal
has the power of abstraction, or of forming general concepts, is
self-conscious and comprehends itself; that no animal employs language;
that man alone has a sense of beauty, is liable to caprice, has the
feeling of gratitude, mystery, etc.; believes in God, or is endowed
with a conscience. I will hazard a few remarks on the more important
and interesting of these points.
Archbishop Sumner formerly maintained (31. Quoted by Sir C. Lyell,
‘Antiquity of Man,’ p. 497.) that man alone is capable of progressive
improvement. That he is capable of incomparably greater and more rapid
improvement than is any other animal, admits of no dispute; and this is
mainly due to his power of speaking and handing down his acquired
knowledge. With animals, looking first to the individual, every one who
has had any experience in setting traps, knows that young animals can
be caught much more easily than old ones; and they can be much more
easily approached by an enemy. Even with respect to old animals, it is
impossible to catch many in the same place and in the same kind of
trap, or to destroy them by the same kind of poison; yet it is
improbable that all should have partaken of the poison, and impossible
that all should have been caught in a trap. They must learn caution by
seeing their brethren caught or poisoned. In North America, where the
fur-bearing animals have long been pursued, they exhibit, according to
the unanimous testimony of all observers, an almost incredible amount
of sagacity, caution and cunning; but trapping has been there so long
carried on, that inheritance may possibly have come into play. I have
received several accounts that when telegraphs are first set up in any
district, many birds kill themselves by flying against the wires, but
that in the course of a very few years they learn to avoid this danger,
by seeing, as it would appear, their comrades killed. (32. For
additional evidence, with details, see M. Houzeau, ‘Études sur les
Facultés Mentales des Animaux,’ tom. ii. 1872, p. 147.)
If we look to successive generations, or to the race, there is no doubt
that birds and other animals gradually both acquire and lose caution in
relation to man or other enemies (33. See, with respect to birds on
oceanic islands, my ‘Journal of Researches during the Voyage of the
“Beagle,”’ 1845, p. 398. ‘Origin of Species,’ 5th ed. p. 260.); and
this caution is certainly in chief part an inherited habit or instinct,
but in part the result of individual experience. A good observer, Leroy
(34. ‘Lettres Phil. sur l’Intelligence des Animaux,’ nouvelle edit.,
1802, p. 86.), states, that in districts where foxes are much hunted,
the young, on first leaving their burrows, are incontestably much more
wary than the old ones in districts where they are not much disturbed.
Our domestic dogs are descended from wolves and jackals (35. See the
evidence on this head in chap. i. vol. i., ‘On the Variation of Animals
and Plants under Domestication.’), and though they may not have gained
in cunning, and may have lost in wariness and suspicion, yet they have
progressed in certain moral qualities, such as in affection,
trust-worthiness, temper, and probably in general intelligence. The
common rat has conquered and beaten several other species throughout
Europe, in parts of North America, New Zealand, and recently in
Formosa, as well as on the mainland of China. Mr. Swinhoe (36.
‘Proceedings Zoological Society,’ 1864, p. 186.), who describes these
two latter cases, attributes the victory of the common rat over the
large Mus coninga to its superior cunning; and this latter quality may
probably be attributed to the habitual exercise of all its faculties in
avoiding extirpation by man, as well as to nearly all the less cunning
or weak-minded rats having been continuously destroyed by him. It is,
however, possible that the success of the common rat may be due to its
having possessed greater cunning than its fellow-species, before it
became associated with man. To maintain, independently of any direct
evidence, that no animal during the course of ages has progressed in
intellect or other mental faculties, is to beg the question of the
evolution of species. We have seen that, according to Lartet, existing
mammals belonging to several orders have larger brains than their
ancient tertiary prototypes.
It has often been said that no animal uses any tool; but the chimpanzee
in a state of nature cracks a native fruit, somewhat like a walnut,
with a stone. (37. Savage and Wyman in ‘Boston Journal of Natural
History,’ vol. iv. 1843-44, p. 383.) Rengger (38. ‘Säugethiere von
Paraguay,’ 1830, s. 51-56.) easily taught an American monkey thus to
break open hard palm-nuts; and afterwards of its own accord, it used
stones to open other kinds of nuts, as well as boxes. It thus also
removed the soft rind of fruit that had a disagreeable flavour. Another
monkey was taught to open the lid of a large box with a stick, and
afterwards it used the stick as a lever to move heavy bodies; and I
have myself seen a young orang put a stick into a crevice, slip his
hand to the other end, and use it in the proper manner as a lever. The
tamed elephants in India are well known to break off branches of trees
and use them to drive away the flies; and this same act has been
observed in an elephant in a state of nature. (39. The Indian Field,
March 4, 1871.) I have seen a young orang, when she thought she was
going to be whipped, cover and protect herself with a blanket or straw.
In these several cases stones and sticks were employed as implements;
but they are likewise used as weapons. Brehm (40. ‘Thierleben,’ B. i.
s. 79, 82.) states, on the authority of the well-known traveller
Schimper, that in Abyssinia when the baboons belonging to one species
(C. gelada) descend in troops from the mountains to plunder the fields,
they sometimes encounter troops of another species (C. hamadryas), and
then a fight ensues. The Geladas roll down great stones, which the
Hamadryas try to avoid, and then both species, making a great uproar,
rush furiously against each other. Brehm, when accompanying the Duke of
Coburg-Gotha, aided in an attack with fire-arms on a troop of baboons
in the pass of Mensa in Abyssinia. The baboons in return rolled so many
stones down the mountain, some as large as a man’s head, that the
attackers had to beat a hasty retreat; and the pass was actually closed
for a time against the caravan. It deserves notice that these baboons
thus acted in concert. Mr. Wallace (41. ‘The Malay Archipelago,’ vol.
i. 1869, p. 87.) on three occasions saw female orangs, accompanied by
their young, “breaking off branches and the great spiny fruit of the
Durian tree, with every appearance of rage; causing such a shower of
missiles as effectually kept us from approaching too near the tree.” As
I have repeatedly seen, a chimpanzee will throw any object at hand at a
person who offends him; and the before-mentioned baboon at the Cape of
Good Hope prepared mud for the purpose.
In the Zoological Gardens, a monkey, which had weak teeth, used to
break open nuts with a stone; and I was assured by the keepers that
after using the stone, he hid it in the straw, and would not let any
other monkey touch it. Here, then, we have the idea of property; but
this idea is common to every dog with a bone, and to most or all birds
with their nests.
The Duke of Argyll (42. ‘Primeval Man,’ 1869, pp. 145, 147.) remarks,
that the fashioning of an implement for a special purpose is absolutely
peculiar to man; and he considers that this forms an immeasurable gulf
between him and the brutes. This is no doubt a very important
distinction; but there appears to me much truth in Sir J. Lubbock’s
suggestion (43. ‘Prehistoric Times,’ 1865, p. 473, etc.), that when
primeval man first used flint-stones for any purpose, he would have
accidentally splintered them, and would then have used the sharp
fragments. From this step it would be a small one to break the flints
on purpose, and not a very wide step to fashion them rudely. This
latter advance, however, may have taken long ages, if we may judge by
the immense interval of time which elapsed before the men of the
neolithic period took to grinding and polishing their stone tools. In
breaking the flints, as Sir J. Lubbock likewise remarks, sparks would
have been emitted, and in grinding them heat would have been evolved:
thus the two usual methods of “obtaining fire may have originated.” The
nature of fire would have been known in the many volcanic regions where
lava occasionally flows through forests. The anthropomorphous apes,
guided probably by instinct, build for themselves temporary platforms;
but as many instincts are largely controlled by reason, the simpler
ones, such as this of building a platform, might readily pass into a
voluntary and conscious act. The orang is known to cover itself at
night with the leaves of the Pandanus; and Brehm states that one of his
baboons used to protect itself from the heat of the sun by throwing a
straw-mat over its head. In these several habits, we probably see the
first steps towards some of the simpler arts, such as rude architecture
and dress, as they arose amongst the early progenitors of man.
ABSTRACTION, GENERAL CONCEPTIONS, SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS, MENTAL
INDIVIDUALITY.
It would be very difficult for any one with even much more knowledge
than I possess, to determine how far animals exhibit any traces of
these high mental powers. This difficulty arises from the impossibility
of judging what passes through the mind of an animal; and again, the
fact that writers differ to a great extent in the meaning which they
attribute to the above terms, causes a further difficulty. If one may
judge from various articles which have been published lately, the
greatest stress seems to be laid on the supposed entire absence in
animals of the power of abstraction, or of forming general concepts.
But when a dog sees another dog at a distance, it is often clear that
he perceives that it is a dog in the abstract; for when he gets nearer
his whole manner suddenly changes, if the other dog be a friend. A
recent writer remarks, that in all such cases it is a pure assumption
to assert that the mental act is not essentially of the same nature in
the animal as in man. If either refers what he perceives with his
senses to a mental concept, then so do both. (44. Mr. Hookham, in a
letter to Prof. Max Muller, in the ‘Birmingham News,’ May 1873.) When I
say to my terrier, in an eager voice (and I have made the trial many
times), “Hi, hi, where is it?” she at once takes it as a sign that
something is to be hunted, and generally first looks quickly all
around, and then rushes into the nearest thicket, to scent for any
game, but finding nothing, she looks up into any neighbouring tree for
a squirrel. Now do not these actions clearly shew that she had in her
mind a general idea or concept that some animal is to be discovered and
hunted?
It may be freely admitted that no animal is self-conscious, if by this
term it is implied, that he reflects on such points, as whence he comes
or whither he will go, or what is life and death, and so forth. But how
can we feel sure that an old dog with an excellent memory and some
power of imagination, as shewn by his dreams, never reflects on his
past pleasures or pains in the chase? And this would be a form of
self-consciousness. On the other hand, as Buchner (45. ‘Conférences sur
la Théorie Darwinienne,’ French translat. 1869, p. 132.) has remarked,
how little can the hard-worked wife of a degraded Australian savage,
who uses very few abstract words, and cannot count above four, exert
her self-consciousness, or reflect on the nature of her own existence.
It is generally admitted, that the higher animals possess memory,
attention, association, and even some imagination and reason. If these
powers, which differ much in different animals, are capable of
improvement, there seems no great improbability in more complex
faculties, such as the higher forms of abstraction, and
self-consciousness, etc., having been evolved through the development
and combination of the simpler ones. It has been urged against the
views here maintained that it is impossible to say at what point in the
ascending scale animals become capable of abstraction, etc.; but who
can say at what age this occurs in our young children? We see at least
that such powers are developed in children by imperceptible degrees.
That animals retain their mental individuality is unquestionable. When
my voice awakened a train of old associations in the mind of the
before-mentioned dog, he must have retained his mental individuality,
although every atom of his brain had probably undergone change more
than once during the interval of five years. This dog might have
brought forward the argument lately advanced to crush all
evolutionists, and said, “I abide amid all mental moods and all
material changes...The teaching that atoms leave their impressions as
legacies to other atoms falling into the places they have vacated is
contradictory of the utterance of consciousness, and is therefore
false; but it is the teaching necessitated by evolutionism,
consequently the hypothesis is a false one.” (46. The Rev. Dr. J.
M’Cann, ‘Anti-Darwinism,’ 1869, p. 13.)
LANGUAGE.
This faculty has justly been considered as one of the chief
distinctions between man and the lower animals. But man, as a highly
competent judge, Archbishop Whately remarks, “is not the only animal
that can make use of language to express what is passing in his mind,
and can understand, more or less, what is so expressed by another.”
(47. Quoted in ‘Anthropological Review,’ 1864, p. 158.) In Paraguay the
Cebus azarae when excited utters at least six distinct sounds, which
excite in other monkeys similar emotions. (48. Rengger, ibid. s. 45.)
The movements of the features and gestures of monkeys are understood by
us, and they partly understand ours, as Rengger and others declare. It
is a more remarkable fact that the dog, since being domesticated, has
learnt to bark (49. See my ‘Variation of Animals and Plants under
Domestication,’ vol. i. p. 27.) in at least four or five distinct
tones. Although barking is a new art, no doubt the wild parent-species
of the dog expressed their feelings by cries of various kinds. With the
domesticated dog we have the bark of eagerness, as in the chase; that
of anger, as well as growling; the yelp or howl of despair, as when
shut up; the baying at night; the bark of joy, as when starting on a
walk with his master; and the very distinct one of demand or
supplication, as when wishing for a door or window to be opened.
According to Houzeau, who paid particular attention to the subject, the
domestic fowl utters at least a dozen significant sounds. (50.
‘Facultés Mentales des Animaux,’ tom. ii. 1872, p. 346-349.)
The habitual use of articulate language is, however, peculiar to man;
but he 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. (51. See a discussion on this subject in Mr. E.B. Tylor’s
very interesting work, ‘Researches into the Early History of Mankind,’
1865, chaps. ii. to iv.) This especially holds good with the more
simple and vivid feelings, which are but little connected with our
higher intelligence. Our cries of pain, fear, surprise, anger, together
with their appropriate actions, and the murmur of a mother to her
beloved child are more expressive than any words. That which
distinguishes man from the lower animals is not the understanding of
articulate sounds, for, as every one knows, dogs understand many words
and sentences. In this respect they are at the same stage of
development as infants, between the ages of ten and twelve months, who
understand many words and short sentences, but cannot yet utter a
single word. It is not the mere articulation which is our
distinguishing character, for parrots and other birds possess this
power. Nor is it the mere capacity of connecting definite sounds with
definite ideas; for it is certain that some parrots, which have been
taught to speak, connect unerringly words with things, and persons with
events. (52. I have received several detailed accounts to this effect.
Admiral Sir B.J. Sulivan, whom I know to be a careful observer, assures
me that an African parrot, long kept in his father’s house, invariably
called certain persons of the household, as well as visitors, by their
names. He said “good morning” to every one at breakfast, and “good
night” to each as they left the room at night, and never reversed these
salutations. To Sir B.J. Sulivan’s father, he used to add to the “ good
morning” a short sentence, which was never once repeated after his
father’s death. He scolded violently a strange dog which came into the
room through the open window; and he scolded another parrot (saying
“you naughty polly”) which had got out of its cage, and was eating
apples on the kitchen table. See also, to the same effect, Houzeau on
parrots, ‘Facultés Mentales,’ tom. ii. p. 309. Dr. A. Moschkau informs
me that he knew a starling which never made a mistake in saying in
German “good morning” to persons arriving, and “good bye, old fellow,”
to those departing. I could add several other such cases.) The lower
animals differ from man solely in his almost infinitely larger power of
associating together the most diversified sounds and ideas; and this
obviously depends on the high development of his mental powers.
As Horne Tooke, one of the founders of the noble science of philology,
observes, language is an art, like brewing or baking; but writing would
have been a better simile. It certainly is not a true instinct, for
every language has to be learnt. It differs, however, widely from all
ordinary arts, for man has an instinctive tendency to speak, as we see
in the babble of our young children; whilst no child has an instinctive
tendency to brew, bake, or write. Moreover, no philologist now supposes
that any language has been deliberately invented; it has been slowly
and unconsciously developed by many steps. (53. See some good remarks
on this head by Prof. Whitney, in his ‘Oriental and Linguistic
Studies,’ 1873, p. 354. He observes that the desire of communication
between man is the living force, which, in the development of language,
“works both consciously and unconsciously; consciously as regards the
immediate end to be attained; unconsciously as regards the further
consequences of the act.”) The sounds uttered by birds offer in several
respects the nearest analogy to language, for all the members of the
same species utter the same instinctive cries expressive of their
emotions; and all the kinds which sing, exert their power
instinctively; but the actual song, and even the call-notes, are learnt
from their parents or foster-parents. These sounds, as Daines
Barrington (54. Hon. Daines Barrington in ‘Philosoph. Transactions,’
1773, p. 262. See also Dureau de la Malle, in ‘Ann. des. Sc. Nat.’ 3rd
series, Zoolog., tom. x. p. 119.) has proved, “are no more innate than
language is in man.” The first attempts to sing “may be compared to the
imperfect endeavour in a child to babble.” The young males continue
practising, or as the bird-catchers say, “recording,” for ten or eleven
months. Their first essays shew hardly a rudiment of the future song;
but as they grow older we can perceive what they are aiming at; and at
last they are said “to sing their song round.” Nestlings which have
learnt the song of a distinct species, as with the canary-birds
educated in the Tyrol, teach and transmit their new song to their
offspring. The slight natural differences of song in the same species
inhabiting different districts may be appositely compared, as
Barrington remarks, “to provincial dialects”; and the songs of allied,
though distinct species may be compared with the languages of distinct
races of man. I have given the foregoing details to shew that an
instinctive tendency to acquire an art is not peculiar to man.
With respect to the origin of articulate language, after having read on
the one side the highly interesting works of Mr. Hensleigh Wedgwood,
the Rev. F. Farrar, and Prof. Schleicher (55. ‘On the Origin of
Language,’ by H. Wedgwood, 1866. ‘Chapters on Language,’ by the Rev.
F.W. Farrar, 1865. These works are most interesting. See also ‘De la
Phys. et de Parole,’ par Albert Lemoine, 1865, p. 190. The work on this
subject, by the late Prof. Aug. Schleicher, has been translated by Dr.
Bikkers into English, under the title of ‘Darwinism tested by the
Science of Language,’ 1869.), and the celebrated lectures of Prof. Max
Muller on the other side, I cannot doubt that language owes its origin
to the imitation and modification of various natural sounds, the voices
of other animals, and man’s own instinctive cries, aided by signs and
gestures. When we treat of sexual selection we shall see that primeval
man, or rather some early progenitor of man, probably first used his
voice in producing true musical cadences, that is in singing, as do
some of the gibbon-apes at the present day; and we may conclude from a
widely-spread analogy, that this power would have been especially
exerted during the courtship of the sexes,—would have expressed various
emotions, such as love, jealousy, triumph,—and would have served as a
challenge to rivals. It is, therefore, probable that the imitation of
musical cries by articulate sounds may have given rise to words
expressive of various complex emotions. The strong tendency in our
nearest allies, the monkeys, in microcephalous idiots (56. Vogt,
‘Mémoire sur les Microcephales,’ 1867, p. 169. With respect to savages,
I have given some facts in my ‘Journal of Researches,’ etc., 1845, p.
206.), and in the barbarous races of mankind, to imitate whatever they
hear deserves notice, as bearing on the subject of imitation. Since
monkeys certainly understand much that is said to them by man, and when
wild, utter signal-cries of danger to their fellows (57. See clear
evidence on this head in the two works so often quoted, by Brehm and
Rengger.); and since fowls give distinct warnings for danger on the
ground, or in the sky from hawks (both, as well as a third cry,
intelligible to dogs) (58. Houzeau gives a very curious account of his
observations on this subject in his ‘Facultés Mentales des Animaux,’
tom. ii. p. 348.), may not some unusually wise ape-like animal have
imitated the growl of a beast of prey, and thus told his fellow-monkeys
the nature of the expected danger? This would have been a first step in
the formation of a language.
As the voice was used more and more, the vocal organs would have been
strengthened and perfected through the principle of the inherited
effects of use; and this would have reacted on the power of speech. But
the relation between the continued use of language and the development
of the brain, has no doubt been far more important. The mental powers
in some early progenitor of man must have been more highly developed
than in any existing ape, before even the most imperfect form of speech
could have come into use; but we may confidently believe that the
continued use and advancement of this power would have reacted on the
mind itself, by enabling and encouraging it to carry on long trains of
thought. A complex train of thought can no more be carried on without
the aid of words, whether spoken or silent, than a long calculation
without the use of figures or algebra. It appears, also, that even an
ordinary train of thought almost requires, or is greatly facilitated by
some form of language, for the dumb, deaf, and blind girl, Laura
Bridgman, was observed to use her fingers whilst dreaming. (59. See
remarks on this head by Dr. Maudsley, ‘The Physiology and Pathology of
Mind,’ 2nd ed., 1868, p. 199.) Nevertheless, a long succession of vivid
and connected ideas may pass through the mind without the aid of any
form of language, as we may infer from the movements of dogs during
their dreams. We have, also, seen that animals are able to reason to a
certain extent, manifestly without the aid of language. The intimate
connection between the brain, as it is now developed in us, and the
faculty of speech, is well shewn by those curious cases of
brain-disease in which speech is specially affected, as when the power
to remember substantives is lost, whilst other words can be correctly
used, or where substantives of a certain class, or all except the
initial letters of substantives and proper names are forgotten. (60.
Many curious cases have been recorded. See, for instance, Dr. Bateman
‘On Aphasia,’ 1870, pp. 27, 31, 53, 100, etc. Also, ‘Inquiries
Concerning the Intellectual Powers,’ by Dr. Abercrombie, 1838, p. 150.)
There is no more improbability in the continued use of the mental and
vocal organs leading to inherited changes in their structure and
functions, than in the case of hand-writing, which depends partly on
the form of the hand and partly on the disposition of the mind; and
handwriting is certainly inherited. (61. ‘The Variation of Animals and
Plants under Domestication,’ vol. ii. p. 6.’)
Several writers, more especially Prof. Max Muller (62. Lectures on ‘Mr.
Darwin’s Philosophy of Language,’ 1873.), have lately insisted that the
use of language implies the power of forming general concepts; and that
as no animals are supposed to possess this power, an impassable barrier
is formed between them and man. (63. The judgment of a distinguished
philologist, such as Prof. Whitney, will have far more weight on this
point than anything that I can say. He remarks (‘Oriental and
Linguistic Studies,’ 1873, p. 297), in speaking of Bleek’s views:
“Because on the grand scale language is the necessary auxiliary of
thought, indispensable to the development of the power of thinking, to
the distinctness and variety and complexity of cognitions to the full
mastery of consciousness; therefore he would fain make thought
absolutely impossible without speech, identifying the faculty with its
instrument. He might just as reasonably assert that the human hand
cannot act without a tool. With such a doctrine to start from, he
cannot stop short of Max Muller’s worst paradoxes, that an infant (in
fans, not speaking) is not a human being, and that deaf-mutes do not
become possessed of reason until they learn to twist their fingers into
imitation of spoken words.” Max Muller gives in italics (‘Lectures on
Mr. Darwin’s Philosophy of Language,’ 1873, third lecture) this
aphorism: “There is no thought without words, as little as there are
words without thought.” What a strange definition must here be given to
the word thought!) With respect to animals, I have already endeavoured
to shew that they have this power, at least in a rude and incipient
degree. As far as concerns infants of from ten to eleven months old,
and deaf-mutes, it seems to me incredible, that they should be able to
connect certain sounds with certain general ideas as quickly as they
do, unless such ideas were already formed in their minds. The same
remark may be extended to the more intelligent animals; as Mr. Leslie
Stephen observes (64. ‘Essays on Free Thinking,’ etc., 1873, p. 82.),
“A dog frames a general concept of cats or sheep, and knows the
corresponding words as well as a philosopher. And the capacity to
understand is as good a proof of vocal intelligence, though in an
inferior degree, as the capacity to speak.”
Why the organs now used for speech should have been originally
perfected for this purpose, rather than any other organs, it is not
difficult to see. Ants have considerable powers of intercommunication
by means of their antennae, as shewn by Huber, who devotes a whole
chapter to their language. We might have used our fingers as efficient
instruments, for a person with practice can report to a deaf man every
word of a speech rapidly delivered at a public meeting; but the loss of
our hands, whilst thus employed, would have been a serious
inconvenience. As all the higher mammals possess vocal organs,
constructed on the same general plan as ours, and used as a means of
communication, it was obviously probable that these same organs would
be still further developed if the power of communication had to be
improved; and this has been effected by the aid of adjoining and well
adapted parts, namely the tongue and lips. (65. See some good remarks
to this effect by Dr. Maudsley, ‘The Physiology and Pathology of Mind,’
1868, p. 199.) The fact of the higher apes not using their vocal organs
for speech, no doubt depends on their intelligence not having been
sufficiently advanced. The possession by them of organs, which with
long-continued practice might have been used for speech, although not
thus used, is paralleled by the case of many birds which possess organs
fitted for singing, though they never sing. Thus, the nightingale and
crow have vocal organs similarly constructed, these being used by the
former for diversified song, and by the latter only for croaking. (66.
Macgillivray, ‘Hist. of British Birds,’ vol. ii. 1839, p. 29. An
excellent observer, Mr. Blackwall, remarks that the magpie learns to
pronounce single words, and even short sentences, more readily than
almost any other British bird; yet, as he adds, after long and closely
investigating its habits, he has never known it, in a state of nature,
display any unusual capacity for imitation. ‘Researches in Zoology,’
1834, p. 158.) If it be asked why apes have not had their intellects
developed to the same degree as that of man, general causes only can be
assigned in answer, and it is unreasonable to expect any thing more
definite, considering our ignorance with respect to the successive
stages of development through which each creature has passed.
The formation of different languages and of distinct species, and the
proofs that both have been developed through a gradual process, are
curiously parallel. (67. See the very interesting parallelism between
the development of species and languages, given by Sir C. Lyell in ‘The
Geological Evidences of the Antiquity of Man,’ 1863, chap. xxiii.) But
we can trace the formation of many words further back than that of
species, for we can perceive how they actually arose from the imitation
of various sounds. We find in distinct languages striking homologies
due to community of descent, and analogies due to a similar process of
formation. The manner in which certain letters or sounds change when
others change is very like correlated growth. We have in both cases the
reduplication of parts, the effects of long-continued use, and so
forth. The frequent presence of rudiments, both in languages and in
species, is still more remarkable. The letter m in the word am, means
I; so that in the expression I am, a superfluous and useless rudiment
has been retained. In the spelling also of words, letters often remain
as the rudiments of ancient forms of pronunciation. Languages, like
organic beings, can be classed in groups under groups; and they can be
classed either naturally according to descent, or artificially by other
characters. Dominant languages and dialects spread widely, and lead to
the gradual extinction of other tongues. A language, like a species,
when once extinct, never, as Sir C. Lyell remarks, reappears. The same
language never has two birth-places. Distinct languages may be crossed
or blended together. (68. See remarks to this effect by the Rev. F.W.
Farrar, in an interesting article, entitled ‘Philology and Darwinism,’
in ‘Nature,’ March 24th, 1870, p. 528.) We see variability in every
tongue, and new words are continually cropping up; but as there is a
limit to the powers of the memory, single words, like whole languages,
gradually become extinct. As Max Muller (69. ‘Nature,’ January 6th,
1870, p. 257.) has well remarked:—“A struggle for life is constantly
going on amongst the words and grammatical forms in each language. The
better, the shorter, the easier forms are constantly gaining the upper
hand, and they owe their success to their own inherent virtue.” To
these more important causes of the survival of certain words, mere
novelty and fashion may be added; for there is in the mind of man a
strong love for slight changes in all things. The survival or
preservation of certain favoured words in the struggle for existence is
natural selection.
The perfectly regular and wonderfully complex construction of the
languages of many barbarous nations has often been advanced as a proof,
either of the divine origin of these languages, or of the high art and
former civilisation of their founders. Thus F. von Schlegel writes: “In
those languages which appear to be at the lowest grade of intellectual
culture, we frequently observe a very high and elaborate degree of art
in their grammatical structure. This is especially the case with the
Basque and the Lapponian, and many of the American languages.” (70.
Quoted by C.S. Wake, ‘Chapters on Man,’ 1868, p. 101.) But it is
assuredly an error to speak of any language as an art, in the sense of
its having been elaborately and methodically formed. Philologists now
admit that conjugations, declensions, etc., originally existed as
distinct words, since joined together; and as such words express the
most obvious relations between objects and persons, it is not
surprising that they should have been used by the men of most races
during the earliest ages. With respect to perfection, the following
illustration will best shew how easily we may err: a Crinoid sometimes
consists of no less than 150,000 pieces of shell (71. Buckland,
‘Bridgewater Treatise,’ p. 411.), all arranged with perfect symmetry in
radiating lines; but a naturalist does not consider an animal of this
kind as more perfect than a bilateral one with comparatively few parts,
and with none of these parts alike, excepting on the opposite sides of
the body. He justly considers the differentiation and specialisation of
organs as the test of perfection. So with languages: the most
symmetrical and complex ought not to be ranked above irregular,
abbreviated, and bastardised languages, which have borrowed expressive
words and useful forms of construction from various conquering,
conquered, or immigrant races.
From these few and imperfect remarks I conclude that the extremely
complex and regular construction of many barbarous languages, is no
proof that they owe their origin to a special act of creation. (72. See
some good remarks on the simplification of languages, by Sir J.
Lubbock, ‘Origin of Civilisation,’ 1870, p. 278.) Nor, as we have seen,
does the faculty of articulate speech in itself offer any insuperable
objection to the belief that man has been developed from some lower
form.
SENSE OF BEAUTY.
This sense has been declared to be peculiar to man. I refer here only
to the pleasure given by certain colours, forms, and sounds, and which
may fairly be called a sense of the beautiful; with cultivated men such
sensations are, however, intimately associated with complex ideas and
trains of thought. When we behold a male bird elaborately displaying
his graceful plumes or splendid colours before the female, whilst other
birds, not thus decorated, make no such display, it is impossible to
doubt that she admires the beauty of her male partner. As women
everywhere deck themselves with these plumes, the beauty of such
ornaments cannot be disputed. As we shall see later, the nests of
humming-birds, and the playing passages of bower-birds are tastefully
ornamented with gaily-coloured objects; and this shews that they must
receive some kind of pleasure from the sight of such things. With the
great majority of animals, however, the taste for the beautiful is
confined, as far as we can judge, to the attractions of the opposite
sex. The sweet strains poured forth by many male birds during the
season of love, are certainly admired by the females, of which fact
evidence will hereafter be given. If female birds had been incapable of
appreciating the beautiful colours, the ornaments, and voices of their
male partners, all the labour and anxiety exhibited by the latter in
displaying their charms before the females would have been thrown away;
and this it is impossible to admit. Why certain bright colours should
excite pleasure cannot, I presume, be explained, any more than why
certain flavours and scents are agreeable; but habit has something to
do with the result, for that which is at first unpleasant to our
senses, ultimately becomes pleasant, and habits are inherited. With
respect to sounds, Helmholtz has explained to a certain extent on
physiological principles, why harmonies and certain cadences are
agreeable. But besides this, sounds frequently recurring at irregular
intervals are highly disagreeable, as every one will admit who has
listened at night to the irregular flapping of a rope on board ship.
The same principle seems to come into play with vision, as the eye
prefers symmetry or figures with some regular recurrence. Patterns of
this kind are employed by even the lowest savages as ornaments; and
they have been developed through sexual selection for the adornment of
some male animals. Whether we can or not give any reason for the
pleasure thus derived from vision and hearing, yet man and many of the
lower animals are alike pleased by the same colours, graceful shading
and forms, and the same sounds.
The taste for the beautiful, at least as far as female beauty is
concerned, is not of a special nature in the human mind; for it differs
widely in the different races of man, and is not quite the same even in
the different nations of the same race. Judging from the hideous
ornaments, and the equally hideous music admired by most savages, it
might be urged that their aesthetic faculty was not so highly developed
as in certain animals, for instance, as in birds. Obviously no animal
would be capable of admiring such scenes as the heavens at night, a
beautiful landscape, or refined music; but such high tastes are
acquired through culture, and depend on complex associations; they are
not enjoyed by barbarians or by uneducated persons.
Many of the faculties, which have been of inestimable service to man
for his progressive advancement, such as the powers of the imagination,
wonder, curiosity, an undefined sense of beauty, a tendency to
imitation, and the love of excitement or novelty, could hardly fail to
lead to capricious changes of customs and fashions. I have alluded to
this point, because a recent writer (73. ‘The Spectator,’ Dec. 4th,
1869, p. 1430.) has oddly fixed on Caprice “as one of the most
remarkable and typical differences between savages and brutes.” But not
only can we partially understand how it is that man is from various
conflicting influences rendered capricious, but that the lower animals
are, as we shall hereafter see, likewise capricious in their
affections, aversions, and sense of beauty. There is also reason to
suspect that they love novelty, for its own sake.
BELIEF IN GOD—RELIGION.
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 travellers, 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. (74. See an
excellent article on this subject by the Rev. F.W. Farrar, in the
‘Anthropological Review,’ Aug. 1864, p. ccxvii. For further facts see
Sir J. Lubbock, ‘Prehistoric Times,’ 2nd edit., 1869, p. 564; and
especially the chapters on Religion in his ‘Origin of Civilisation,’
1870.) 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 civilised 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. M’Lennan (75. ‘The Worship of
Animals and Plants,’ in the ‘Fortnightly Review,’ Oct. 1, 1869, p.
422.) 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 shewn, 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.” (76. Tylor, ‘Early History of Mankind,’ 1865, p. 6. See also
the three striking chapters on the ‘Development of Religion,’ in
Lubbock’s ‘Origin of Civilisation,’ 1870. In a like manner Mr. Herbert
Spencer, in his ingenious essay in the ‘Fortnightly Review’ (May 1st,
1870, p. 535), accounts for the earliest forms of religious belief
throughout the world, by man being led through dreams, shadows, and
other causes, to look at himself as a double essence, corporeal and
spiritual. As the spiritual being is supposed to exist after death and
to be powerful, it is propitiated by various gifts and ceremonies, and
its aid invoked. He then further shews that names or nicknames given
from some animal or other object, to the early progenitors or founders
of a tribe, are supposed after a long interval to represent the real
progenitor of the tribe; and such animal or object is then naturally
believed still to exist as a spirit, is held sacred, and worshipped as
a god. Nevertheless I cannot but suspect that there is a still earlier
and ruder stage, when anything which manifests power or movement is
thought to be endowed with some form of life, and with mental faculties
analogous to our own.) 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 practised 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 (77. See an able article on the ‘Physical
Elements of Religion,’ by Mr. L. Owen Pike, in ‘Anthropological
Review,’ April 1870, p. lxiii.), 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 behaviour 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 towards their fellows. In the
latter case the transports of joy appear to be somewhat less, and the
sense of equality is shewn in every action. Professor Braubach goes so
far as to maintain that a dog looks on his master as on a god. (78.
‘Religion, Moral, etc., der Darwin’schen Art-Lehre,’ 1869, s. 53. It is
said (Dr. W. Lauder Lindsay, ‘Journal of Mental Science,’ 1871, p. 43),
that Bacon long ago, and the poet Burns, held the same notion.)
The same high mental faculties which first led man to believe in unseen
spiritual agencies, then in fetishism, 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 shew 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 (79.
‘Prehistoric Times,’ 2nd edit., p. 571. In this work (p. 571) there
will be found an excellent account of the many strange and capricious
customs of savages.) 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.
CHAPTER IV.
COMPARISON OF THE MENTAL POWERS OF MAN AND THE LOWER ANIMALS—continued.
The moral sense—Fundamental proposition—The qualities of social
animals—Origin of sociability—Struggle between opposed instincts—Man a
social animal—The more enduring social instincts conquer other less
persistent instincts—The social virtues alone regarded by savages—The
self-regarding virtues acquired at a later stage of development—The
importance of the judgment of the members of the same community on
conduct—Transmission of moral tendencies—Summary.
I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers (1. See, for
instance, on this subject, Quatrefages, ‘Unité de l’Espèce Humaine,’
1861, p. 21, etc.) who maintain that of all the differences between man
and the lower animals, the moral sense or conscience is by far the most
important. This sense, as Mackintosh (2. ‘Dissertation on Ethical
Philosophy,’ 1837, p. 231, etc.) remarks, “has a rightful supremacy
over every other principle of human action”; it is summed up in that
short but imperious word “ought,” so full of high significance. It is
the most noble of all the attributes of man, leading him without a
moment’s hesitation to risk his life for that of a fellow-creature; or
after due deliberation, impelled simply by the deep feeling of right or
duty, to sacrifice it in some great cause. Immanuel Kant exclaims,
“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; whence thy original?” (3. ‘Metaphysics of Ethics,’ translated by
J.W. Semple, Edinburgh, 1836, p. 136.)
This great question has been discussed by many writers (4. Mr. Bain
gives a list (‘Mental and Moral Science,’ 1868, pp. 543-725) of
twenty-six British authors who have written on this subject, and whose
names are familiar to every reader; to these, Mr. Bain’s own name, and
those of Mr. Lecky, Mr. Shadworth Hodgson, Sir J. Lubbock, and others,
might be added.) of consummate ability; and my sole excuse for touching
on it, is the impossibility of here passing it over; and because, as
far as I know, no one has approached it exclusively from the side of
natural history. The investigation possesses, also, some independent
interest, as an attempt to see how far the study of the lower animals
throws light on one of the highest psychical faculties of man.
The following proposition seems to me in a high degree probable—namely,
that any animal whatever, endowed with well-marked social instincts (5.
Sir B. Brodie, after observing that man is a social animal
(‘Psychological Enquiries,’ 1854, p. 192), asks the pregnant question,
“ought not this to settle the disputed question as to the existence of
a moral sense?” Similar ideas have probably occurred to many persons,
as they did long ago to Marcus Aurelius. Mr. J.S. Mill speaks, in his
celebrated work, ‘Utilitarianism,’ (1864, pp. 45, 46), of the social
feelings as a “powerful natural sentiment,” and as “the natural basis
of sentiment for utilitarian morality.” Again he says, “Like the other
acquired capacities above referred to, the moral faculty, if not a part
of our nature, is a natural out-growth from it; capable, like them, in
a certain small degree of springing up spontaneously.” But in
opposition to all this, he also remarks, “if, as in my own belief, the
moral feelings are not innate, but acquired, they are not for that
reason less natural.” It is with hesitation that I venture to differ at
all from so profound a thinker, but it can hardly be disputed that the
social feelings are instinctive or innate in the lower animals; and why
should they not be so in man? Mr. Bain (see, for instance, ‘The
Emotions and the Will,’ 1865, p. 481) and others believe that the moral
sense is acquired by each individual during his lifetime. On the
general theory of evolution this is at least extremely improbable. The
ignoring of all transmitted mental qualities will, as it seems to me,
be hereafter judged as a most serious blemish in the works of Mr.
Mill.), the parental and filial affections being here included, would
inevitably acquire a moral sense or conscience, as soon as its
intellectual powers had become as well, or nearly as well developed, as
in man. For, FIRSTLY, the social instincts lead an animal to take
pleasure in the society of its fellows, to feel a certain amount of
sympathy with them, and to perform various services for them. The
services may be of a definite and evidently instinctive nature; or
there may be only a wish and readiness, as with most of the higher
social animals, to aid their fellows in certain general ways. But these
feelings and services are by no means extended to all the individuals
of the same species, only to those of the same association. SECONDLY,
as soon as the mental faculties had become highly developed, images of
all past actions and motives would be incessantly passing through the
brain of each individual: and that feeling of dissatisfaction, or even
misery, which invariably results, as we shall hereafter see, from any
unsatisfied instinct, would arise, as often as it was perceived that
the enduring and always present social instinct had yielded to some
other instinct, at the time stronger, but neither enduring in its
nature, nor leaving behind it a very vivid impression. It is clear that
many instinctive desires, such as that of hunger, are in their nature
of short duration; and after being satisfied, are not readily or
vividly recalled. THIRDLY, after the power of language had been
acquired, and the wishes of the community could be expressed, the
common opinion how each member ought to act for the public good, would
naturally become in a paramount degree the guide to action. But it
should be borne in mind that however great weight we may attribute to
public opinion, our regard for the approbation and disapprobation of
our fellows depends on sympathy, which, as we shall see, forms an
essential part of the social instinct, and is indeed its
foundation-stone. LASTLY, habit in the individual would ultimately play
a very important part in guiding the conduct of each member; for the
social instinct, together with sympathy, is, like any other instinct,
greatly strengthened by habit, and so consequently would be obedience
to the wishes and judgment of the community. These several subordinate
propositions must now be discussed, and some of them at considerable
length.
It may be well first to premise that I do not wish to maintain that any
strictly social animal, if its intellectual faculties were to become as
active and as highly developed as in man, would acquire exactly the
same moral sense as ours. In the same manner as various animals have
some sense of beauty, though they admire widely-different objects, so
they might have a sense of right and wrong, though led by it to follow
widely different lines of conduct. If, for instance, to take an extreme
case, men were reared under precisely the same conditions as hive-bees,
there can hardly be a doubt that our unmarried females would, like the
worker-bees, think it a sacred duty to kill their brothers, and mothers
would strive to kill their fertile daughters; and no one would think of
interfering. (6. Mr. H. Sidgwick remarks, in an able discussion on this
subject (the ‘Academy,’ June 15, 1872, p. 231), “a superior bee, we may
feel sure, would aspire to a milder solution of the population
question.” Judging, however, from the habits of many or most savages,
man solves the problem by female infanticide, polyandry and promiscuous
intercourse; therefore it may well be doubted whether it would be by a
milder method. Miss Cobbe, in commenting (‘Darwinism in Morals,’
‘Theological Review,’ April 1872, pp. 188-191) on the same
illustration, says, the PRINCIPLES of social duty would be thus
reversed; and by this, I presume, she means that the fulfilment of a
social duty would tend to the injury of individuals; but she overlooks
the fact, which she would doubtless admit, that the instincts of the
bee have been acquired for the good of the community. She goes so far
as to say that if the theory of ethics advocated in this chapter were
ever generally accepted, “I cannot but believe that in the hour of
their triumph would be sounded the knell of the virtue of mankind!” It
is to be hoped that the belief in the permanence of virtue on this
earth is not held by many persons on so weak a tenure.) Nevertheless,
the bee, or any other social animal, would gain in our supposed case,
as it appears to me, some feeling of right or wrong, or a conscience.
For each individual would have an inward sense of possessing certain
stronger or more enduring instincts, and others less strong or
enduring; so that there would often be a struggle as to which impulse
should be followed; and satisfaction, dissatisfaction, or even misery
would be felt, as past impressions were compared during their incessant
passage through the mind. In this case an inward monitor would tell the
animal that it would have been better to have followed the one impulse
rather than the other. The one course ought to have been followed, and
the other ought not; the one would have been right and the other wrong;
but to these terms I shall recur.
SOCIABILITY.
Animals of many kinds are social; we find even distinct species living
together; for example, some American monkeys; and united flocks of
rooks, jackdaws, and starlings. Man shews the same feeling in his
strong love for the dog, which the dog returns with interest. Every one
must have noticed how miserable horses, dogs, sheep, etc., are when
separated from their companions, and what strong mutual affection the
two former kinds, at least, shew on their reunion. It is curious to
speculate on the feelings of a dog, who will rest peacefully for hours
in a room with his master or any of the family, without the least
notice being taken of him; but if left for a short time by himself,
barks or howls dismally. We will confine our attention to the higher
social animals; and pass over insects, although some of these are
social, and aid one another in many important ways. The most common
mutual service in the higher animals is to warn one another of danger
by means of the united senses of all. Every sportsman knows, as Dr.
Jaeger remarks (7. ‘Die Darwin’sche Theorie,’ s. 101.), how difficult
it is to approach animals in a herd or troop. Wild horses and cattle do
not, I believe, make any danger-signal; but the attitude of any one of
them who first discovers an enemy, warns the others. Rabbits stamp
loudly on the ground with their hind-feet as a signal: sheep and
chamois do the same with their forefeet, uttering likewise a whistle.
Many birds, and some mammals, post sentinels, which in the case of
seals are said (8. Mr. R. Brown in ‘Proc. Zoolog. Soc.’ 1868, p. 409.)
generally to be the females. The leader of a troop of monkeys acts as
the sentinel, and utters cries expressive both of danger and of safety.
(9. Brehm, ‘Thierleben,’ B. i. 1864, s. 52, 79. For the case of the
monkeys extracting thorns from each other, see s. 54. With respect to
the Hamadryas turning over stones, the fact is given (s. 76), on the
evidence of Alvarez, whose observations Brehm thinks quite trustworthy.
For the cases of the old male baboons attacking the dogs, see s. 79;
and with respect to the eagle, s. 56.) Social animals perform many
little services for each other: horses nibble, and cows lick each
other, on any spot which itches: monkeys search each other for external
parasites; and Brehm states that after a troop of the Cercopithecus
griseo-viridis has rushed through a thorny brake, each monkey stretches
itself on a branch, and another monkey sitting by, “conscientiously”
examines its fur, and extracts every thorn or burr.
Animals also render more important services to one another: thus wolves
and some other beasts of prey hunt in packs, and aid one another in
attacking their victims. Pelicans fish in concert. The Hamadryas
baboons turn over stones to find insects, etc.; and when they come to a
large one, as many as can stand round, turn it over together and share
the booty. Social animals mutually defend each other. Bull bisons in N.
America, when there is danger, drive the cows and calves into the
middle of the herd, whilst they defend the outside. I shall also in a
future chapter give an account of two young wild bulls at Chillingham
attacking an old one in concert, and of two stallions together trying
to drive away a third stallion from a troop of mares. In Abyssinia,
Brehm encountered a great troop of baboons who were crossing a valley:
some had already ascended the opposite mountain, and some were still in
the valley; the latter were attacked by the dogs, but the old males
immediately hurried down from the rocks, and with mouths widely opened,
roared so fearfully, that the dogs quickly drew back. They were again
encouraged to the attack; but by this time all the baboons had
reascended the heights, excepting a young one, about six months old,
who, loudly calling for aid, climbed on a block of rock, and was
surrounded. Now one of the largest males, a true hero, came down again
from the mountain, slowly went to the young one, coaxed him, and
triumphantly led him away—the dogs being too much astonished to make an
attack. I cannot resist giving another scene which was witnessed by
this same naturalist; an eagle seized a young Cercopithecus, which, by
clinging to a branch, was not at once carried off; it cried loudly for
assistance, upon which the other members of the troop, with much
uproar, rushed to the rescue, surrounded the eagle, and pulled out so
many feathers, that he no longer thought of his prey, but only how to
escape. This eagle, as Brehm remarks, assuredly would never again
attack a single monkey of a troop. (10. Mr. Belt gives the case of a
spider-monkey (Ateles) in Nicaragua, which was heard screaming for
nearly two hours in the forest, and was found with an eagle perched
close by it. The bird apparently feared to attack as long as it
remained face to face; and Mr. Belt believes, from what he has seen of
the habits of these monkeys, that they protect themselves from eagles
by keeping two or three together. ‘The Naturalist in Nicaragua,’ 1874,
p. 118.)
It is certain that associated animals have a feeling of love for each
other, which is not felt by non-social adult animals. How far in most
cases they actually sympathise in the pains and pleasures of others, is
more doubtful, especially with respect to pleasures. Mr. Buxton,
however, who had excellent means of observation (11. ‘Annals and
Magazine of Natural History,’ November 1868, p. 382.), states that his
macaws, which lived free in Norfolk, took “an extravagant interest” in
a pair with a nest; and whenever the female left it, she was surrounded
by a troop “screaming horrible acclamations in her honour.” It is often
difficult to judge whether animals have any feeling for the sufferings
of others of their kind. Who can say what cows feel, when they surround
and stare intently on a dying or dead companion; apparently, however,
as Houzeau remarks, they feel no pity. That animals sometimes are far
from feeling any sympathy is too certain; for they will expel a wounded
animal from the herd, or gore or worry it to death. This is almost the
blackest fact in natural history, unless, indeed, the explanation which
has been suggested is true, that their instinct or reason leads them to
expel an injured companion, lest beasts of prey, including man, should
be tempted to follow the troop. In this case their conduct is not much
worse than that of the North American Indians, who leave their feeble
comrades to perish on the plains; or the Fijians, who, when their
parents get old, or fall ill, bury them alive. (12. Sir J. Lubbock,
‘Prehistoric Times,’ 2nd ed., p. 446.)
Many animals, however, certainly sympathise with each other’s distress
or danger. This is the case even with birds. Captain Stansbury (13. As
quoted by Mr. L.H. Morgan, ‘The American Beaver,’ 1868, p. 272. Capt.
Stansbury also gives an interesting account of the manner in which a
very young pelican, carried away by a strong stream, was guided and
encouraged in its attempts to reach the shore by half a dozen old
birds.) found on a salt lake in Utah an old and completely blind
pelican, which was very fat, and must have been well fed for a long
time by his companions. Mr. Blyth, as he informs me, saw Indian crows
feeding two or three of their companions which were blind; and I have
heard of an analogous case with the domestic cock. We may, if we
choose, call these actions instinctive; but such cases are much too
rare for the development of any special instinct. (14. As Mr. Bain
states, “effective aid to a sufferer springs from sympathy proper:”
‘Mental and Moral Science,’ 1868, p. 245.) I have myself seen a dog,
who never passed a cat who lay sick in a basket, and was a great friend
of his, without giving her a few licks with his tongue, the surest sign
of kind feeling in a dog.
It must be called sympathy that leads a courageous dog to fly at any
one who strikes his master, as he certainly will. I saw a person
pretending to beat a lady, who had a very timid little dog on her lap,
and the trial had never been made before; the little creature instantly
jumped away, but after the pretended beating was over, it was really
pathetic to see how perseveringly he tried to lick his mistress’s face,
and comfort her. Brehm (15. ‘Thierleben,’ B. i. s. 85.) states that
when a baboon in confinement was pursued to be punished, the others
tried to protect him. It must have been sympathy in the cases above
given which led the baboons and Cercopitheci to defend their young
comrades from the dogs and the eagle. I will give only one other
instance of sympathetic and heroic conduct, in the case of a little
American monkey. Several years ago a keeper at the Zoological Gardens
shewed me some deep and scarcely healed wounds on the nape of his own
neck, inflicted on him, whilst kneeling on the floor, by a fierce
baboon. The little American monkey, who was a warm friend of this
keeper, lived in the same large compartment, and was dreadfully afraid
of the great baboon. Nevertheless, as soon as he saw his friend in
peril, he rushed to the rescue, and by screams and bites so distracted
the baboon that the man was able to escape, after, as the surgeon
thought, running great risk of his life.
Besides love and sympathy, animals exhibit other qualities connected
with the social instincts, which in us would be called moral; and I
agree with Agassiz (16. ‘De l’Espèce et de la Classe,’ 1869, p. 97.)
that dogs possess something very like a conscience.
Dogs possess some power of self-command, and this does not appear to be
wholly the result of fear. As Braubach (17. ‘Die Darwin’sche
Art-Lehre,’ 1869, s. 54.) remarks, they will refrain from stealing food
in the absence of their master. They have long been accepted as the
very type of fidelity and obedience. But the elephant is likewise very
faithful to his driver or keeper, and probably considers him as the
leader of the herd. Dr. Hooker informs me that an elephant, which he
was riding in India, became so deeply bogged that he remained stuck
fast until the next day, when he was extricated by men with ropes.
Under such circumstances elephants will seize with their trunks any
object, dead or alive, to place under their knees, to prevent their
sinking deeper in the mud; and the driver was dreadfully afraid lest
the animal should have seized Dr. Hooker and crushed him to death. But
the driver himself, as Dr. Hooker was assured, ran no risk. This
forbearance under an emergency so dreadful for a heavy animal, is a
wonderful proof of noble fidelity. (18. See also Hooker’s ‘Himalayan
Journals,’ vol. ii. 1854, p. 333.)
All animals living in a body, which defend themselves or attack their
enemies in concert, must indeed be in some degree faithful to one
another; and those that follow a leader must be in some degree
obedient. When the baboons in Abyssinia (19. Brehm, ‘Thierleben,’ B. i.
s. 76.) plunder a garden, they silently follow their leader; and if an
imprudent young animal makes a noise, he receives a slap from the
others to teach him silence and obedience. Mr. Galton, who has had
excellent opportunities for observing the half-wild cattle in S.
Africa, says (20. See his extremely interesting paper on
‘Gregariousness in Cattle, and in Man,’ ‘Macmillan’s Magazine,’ Feb.
1871, p. 353.), that they cannot endure even a momentary separation
from the herd. They are essentially slavish, and accept the common
determination, seeking no better lot than to be led by any one ox who
has enough self-reliance to accept the position. The men who break in
these animals for harness, watch assiduously for those who, by grazing
apart, shew a self-reliant disposition, and these they train as
fore-oxen. Mr. Galton adds that such animals are rare and valuable; and
if many were born they would soon be eliminated, as lions are always on
the look-out for the individuals which wander from the herd.
With respect to the impulse which leads certain animals to associate
together, and to aid one another in many ways, we may infer that in
most cases they are impelled by the same sense of satisfaction or
pleasure which they experience in performing other instinctive actions;
or by the same sense of dissatisfaction as when other instinctive
actions are checked. We see this in innumerable instances, and it is
illustrated in a striking manner by the acquired instincts of our
domesticated animals; thus a young shepherd-dog delights in driving and
running round a flock of sheep, but not in worrying them; a young
fox-hound delights in hunting a fox, whilst some other kinds of dogs,
as I have witnessed, utterly disregard foxes. What a strong feeling of
inward satisfaction must impel a bird, so full of activity, to brood
day after day over her eggs. Migratory birds are quite miserable if
stopped from migrating; perhaps they enjoy starting on their long
flight; but it is hard to believe that the poor pinioned goose,
described by Audubon, which started on foot at the proper time for its
journey of probably more than a thousand miles, could have felt any joy
in doing so. Some instincts are determined solely by painful feelings,
as by fear, which leads to self-preservation, and is in some cases
directed towards special enemies. No one, I presume, can analyse the
sensations of pleasure or pain. In many instances, however, it is
probable that instincts are persistently followed from the mere force
of inheritance, without the stimulus of either pleasure or pain. A
young pointer, when it first scents game, apparently cannot help
pointing. A squirrel in a cage who pats the nuts which it cannot eat,
as if to bury them in the ground, can hardly be thought to act thus,
either from pleasure or pain. Hence the common assumption that men must
be impelled to every action by experiencing some pleasure or pain may
be erroneous. Although a habit may be blindly and implicitly followed,
independently of any pleasure or pain felt at the moment, yet if it be
forcibly and abruptly checked, a vague sense of dissatisfaction is
generally experienced.
It has often been assumed that animals were in the first place rendered
social, and that they feel as a consequence uncomfortable when
separated from each other, and comfortable whilst together; but it is a
more probable view that these sensations were first developed, in order
that those animals which would profit by living in society, should be
induced to live together, in the same manner as the sense of hunger and
the pleasure of eating were, no doubt, first acquired in order to
induce animals to eat. The feeling of pleasure from society is probably
an extension of the parental or filial affections, since the social
instinct seems to be developed by the young remaining for a long time
with their parents; and this extension may be attributed in part to
habit, but chiefly to natural selection. With those animals which were
benefited by living in close association, the individuals which took
the greatest pleasure in society would best escape various dangers,
whilst those that cared least for their comrades, and lived solitary,
would perish in greater numbers. With respect to the origin of the
parental and filial affections, which apparently lie at the base of the
social instincts, we know not the steps by which they have been gained;
but we may infer that it has been to a large extent through natural
selection. So it has almost certainly been with the unusual and
opposite feeling of hatred between the nearest relations, as with the
worker-bees which kill their brother drones, and with the queen-bees
which kill their daughter-queens; the desire to destroy their nearest
relations having been in this case of service to the community.
Parental affection, or some feeling which replaces it, has been
developed in certain animals extremely low in the scale, for example,
in star-fishes and spiders. It is also occasionally present in a few
members alone in a whole group of animals, as in the genus Forficula,
or earwigs.
The all-important emotion of sympathy is distinct from that of love. A
mother may passionately love her sleeping and passive infant, but she
can hardly at such times be said to feel sympathy for it. The love of a
man for his dog is distinct from sympathy, and so is that of a dog for
his master. Adam Smith formerly argued, as has Mr. Bain recently, that
the basis of sympathy lies in our strong retentiveness of former states
of pain or pleasure. Hence, “the sight of another person enduring
hunger, cold, fatigue, revives in us some recollection of these states,
which are painful even in idea.” We are thus impelled to relieve the
sufferings of another, in order that our own painful feelings may be at
the same time relieved. In like manner we are led to participate in the
pleasures of others. (21. See the first and striking chapter in Adam
Smith’s ‘Theory of Moral Sentiments.’ Also ‘Mr. Bain’s Mental and Moral
Science,’ 1868, pp. 244, and 275-282. Mr. Bain states, that, “sympathy
is, indirectly, a source of pleasure to the sympathiser”; and he
accounts for this through reciprocity. He remarks that “the person
benefited, or others in his stead, may make up, by sympathy and good
offices returned, for all the sacrifice.” But if, as appears to be the
case, sympathy is strictly an instinct, its exercise would give direct
pleasure, in the same manner as the exercise, as before remarked, of
almost every other instinct.) But I cannot see how this view explains
the fact that sympathy is excited, in an immeasurably stronger degree,
by a beloved, than by an indifferent person. The mere sight of
suffering, independently of love, would suffice to call up in us vivid
recollections and associations. The explanation may lie in the fact
that, with all animals, sympathy is directed solely towards the members
of the same community, and therefore towards known, and more or less
beloved members, but not to all the individuals of the same species.
This fact is not more surprising than that the fears of many animals
should be directed against special enemies. Species which are not
social, such as lions and tigers, no doubt feel sympathy for the
suffering of their own young, but not for that of any other animal.
With mankind, selfishness, experience, and imitation, probably add, as
Mr. Bain has shewn, to the power of sympathy; for we are led by the
hope of receiving good in return to perform acts of sympathetic
kindness to others; and sympathy is much strengthened by habit. In
however complex a manner this feeling may have originated, as it is one
of high importance to all those animals which aid and defend one
another, it will have been increased through natural selection; for
those communities, which included the greatest number of the most
sympathetic members, would flourish best, and rear the greatest number
of offspring.
It is, however, impossible to decide in many cases whether certain
social instincts have been acquired through natural selection, or are
the indirect result of other instincts and faculties, such as sympathy,
reason, experience, and a tendency to imitation; or again, whether they
are simply the result of long-continued habit. So remarkable an
instinct as the placing sentinels to warn the community of danger, can
hardly have been the indirect result of any of these faculties; it
must, therefore, have been directly acquired. On the other hand, the
habit followed by the males of some social animals of defending the
community, and of attacking their enemies or their prey in concert, may
perhaps have originated from mutual sympathy; but courage, and in most
cases strength, must have been previously acquired, probably through
natural selection.
Of the various instincts and habits, some are much stronger than
others; that is, some either give more pleasure in their performance,
and more distress in their prevention, than others; or, which is
probably quite as important, they are, through inheritance, more
persistently followed, without exciting any special feeling of pleasure
or pain. We are ourselves conscious that some habits are much more
difficult to cure or change than others. Hence a struggle may often be
observed in animals between different instincts, or between an instinct
and some habitual disposition; as when a dog rushes after a hare, is
rebuked, pauses, hesitates, pursues again, or returns ashamed to his
master; or as between the love of a female dog for her young puppies
and for her master,—for she may be seen to slink away to them, as if
half ashamed of not accompanying her master. But the most curious
instance known to me of one instinct getting the better of another, is
the migratory instinct conquering the maternal instinct. The former is
wonderfully strong; a confined bird will at the proper season beat her
breast against the wires of her cage, until it is bare and bloody. It
causes young salmon to leap out of the fresh water, in which they could
continue to exist, and thus unintentionally to commit suicide. Every
one knows how strong the maternal instinct is, leading even timid birds
to face great danger, though with hesitation, and in opposition to the
instinct of self-preservation. Nevertheless, the migratory instinct is
so powerful, that late in the autumn swallows, house-martins, and
swifts frequently desert their tender young, leaving them to perish
miserably in their nests. (22. This fact, the Rev. L. Jenyns states
(see his edition of ‘White’s Nat. Hist. of Selborne,’ 1853, p. 204) was
first recorded by the illustrious Jenner, in ‘Phil. Transact.’ 1824,
and has since been confirmed by several observers, especially by Mr.
Blackwall. This latter careful observer examined, late in the autumn,
during two years, thirty-six nests; he found that twelve contained
young dead birds, five contained eggs on the point of being hatched,
and three, eggs not nearly hatched. Many birds, not yet old enough for
a prolonged flight, are likewise deserted and left behind. See
Blackwall, ‘Researches in Zoology,’ 1834, pp. 108, 118. For some
additional evidence, although this is not wanted, see Leroy, ‘Lettres
Phil.’ 1802, p. 217. For Swifts, Gould’s ‘Introduction to the Birds of
Great Britain,’ 1823, p. 5. Similar cases have been observed in Canada
by Mr. Adams; ‘Pop. Science Review,’ July 1873, p. 283.)
We can perceive that an instinctive impulse, if it be in any way more
beneficial to a species than some other or opposed instinct, would be
rendered the more potent of the two through natural selection; for the
individuals which had it most strongly developed would survive in
larger numbers. Whether this is the case with the migratory in
comparison with the maternal instinct, may be doubted. The great
persistence, or steady action of the former at certain seasons of the
year during the whole day, may give it for a time paramount force.
MAN A SOCIAL ANIMAL.
Every one will admit that man is a social being. We see this in his
dislike of solitude, and in his wish for society beyond that of his own
family. Solitary confinement is one of the severest punishments which
can be inflicted. Some authors suppose that man primevally lived in
single families; but at the present day, though single families, or
only two or three together, roam the solitudes of some savage lands,
they always, as far as I can discover, hold friendly relations with
other families inhabiting the same district. Such families occasionally
meet in council, and unite for their common defence. It is no argument
against savage man being a social animal, that the tribes inhabiting
adjacent districts are almost always at war with each other; for the
social instincts never extend to all the individuals of the same
species. Judging from the analogy of the majority of the Quadrumana, it
is probable that the early ape-like progenitors of man were likewise
social; but this is not of much importance for us. Although man, as he
now exists, has few special instincts, having lost any which his early
progenitors may have possessed, this is no reason why he should not
have retained from an extremely remote period some degree of
instinctive love and sympathy for his fellows. We are indeed all
conscious that we do possess such sympathetic feelings (23. Hume
remarks (‘An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals,’ edit. of
1751, p. 132), “There seems a necessity for confessing that the
happiness and misery of others are not spectacles altogether
indifferent to us, but that the view of the former...communicates a
secret joy; the appearance of the latter... throws a melancholy damp
over the imagination.”); but our consciousness does not tell us whether
they are instinctive, having originated long ago in the same manner as
with the lower animals, or whether they have been acquired by each of
us during our early years. As man is a social animal, it is almost
certain that he would inherit a tendency to be faithful to his
comrades, and obedient to the leader of his tribe; for these qualities
are common to most social animals. He would consequently possess some
capacity for self-command. He would from an inherited tendency be
willing to defend, in concert with others, his fellow-men; and would be
ready to aid them in any way, which did not too greatly interfere with
his own welfare or his own strong desires.
The social animals which stand at the bottom of the scale are guided
almost exclusively, and those which stand higher in the scale are
largely guided, by special instincts in the aid which they give to the
members of the same community; but they are likewise in part impelled
by mutual love and sympathy, assisted apparently by some amount of
reason. Although man, as just remarked, has no special instincts to
tell him how to aid his fellow-men, he still has the impulse, and with
his improved intellectual faculties would naturally be much guided in
this respect by reason and experience. Instinctive sympathy would also
cause him to value highly the approbation of his fellows; for, as Mr.
Bain has clearly shewn (24. ‘Mental and Moral Science,’ 1868, p. 254.),
the love of praise and the strong feeling of glory, and the still
stronger horror of scorn and infamy, “are due to the workings of
sympathy.” Consequently man would be influenced in the highest degree
by the wishes, approbation, and blame of his fellow-men, as expressed
by their gestures and language. Thus the social instincts, which must
have been acquired by man in a very rude state, and probably even by
his early ape-like progenitors, still give the impulse to some of his
best actions; but his actions are in a higher degree determined by the
expressed wishes and judgment of his fellow-men, and unfortunately very
often by his own strong selfish desires. But as love, sympathy and
self-command become strengthened by habit, and as the power of
reasoning becomes clearer, so that man can value justly the judgments
of his fellows, he will feel himself impelled, apart from any
transitory pleasure or pain, to certain lines of conduct. He might then
declare—not that any barbarian or uncultivated man could thus think—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.
THE MORE ENDURING SOCIAL INSTINCTS CONQUER THE LESS PERSISTENT
INSTINCTS.
We have not, however, as yet considered the main point, on which, from
our present point of view, the whole question of the moral sense turns.
Why should a man feel that he ought to obey one instinctive desire
rather than another? Why is he bitterly regretful, if he has yielded to
a strong sense of self-preservation, and has not risked his life to
save that of a fellow-creature? or why does he regret having stolen
food from hunger?
It is evident in the first place, that with mankind the instinctive
impulses have different degrees of strength; a savage will risk his own
life to save that of a member of the same community, but will be wholly
indifferent about a stranger: a young and timid mother urged by the
maternal instinct will, without a moment’s hesitation, run the greatest
danger for her own infant, but not for a mere fellow-creature.
Nevertheless many a civilised man, or even boy, who never before risked
his life for another, but full of courage and sympathy, has disregarded
the instinct of self-preservation, and plunged at once into a torrent
to save a drowning man, though a stranger. In this case man is impelled
by the same instinctive motive, which made the heroic little American
monkey, formerly described, save his keeper, by attacking the great and
dreaded baboon. Such actions as the above appear to be the simple
result of the greater strength of the social or maternal instincts
rather than that of any other instinct or motive; for they are
performed too instantaneously for reflection, or for pleasure or pain
to be felt at the time; though, if prevented by any cause, distress or
even misery might be felt. In a timid man, on the other hand, the
instinct of self-preservation might be so strong, that he would be
unable to force himself to run any such risk, perhaps not even for his
own child.
I am aware that some persons maintain that actions performed
impulsively, as in the above cases, do not come under the dominion of
the moral sense, and cannot be called moral. They confine this term to
actions done deliberately, after a victory over opposing desires, or
when prompted by some exalted motive. But it appears scarcely possible
to draw any clear line of distinction of this kind. (25. I refer here
to the distinction between what has been called MATERIAL and FORMAL
morality. I am glad to find that Professor Huxley (‘Critiques and
Addresses,’ 1873, p. 287) takes the same view on this subject as I do.
Mr. Leslie Stephen remarks (‘Essays on Freethinking and Plain
Speaking,’ 1873, p. 83), “the metaphysical distinction, between
material and formal morality is as irrelevant as other such
distinctions.”) As far as exalted motives are concerned, many instances
have been recorded of savages, destitute of any feeling of general
benevolence towards mankind, and not guided by any religious motive,
who have deliberately sacrificed their lives as prisoners(26. I have
given one such case, namely of three Patagonian Indians who preferred
being shot, one after the other, to betraying the plans of their
companions in war (‘Journal of Researches,’ 1845, p. 103).), rather
than betray their comrades; and surely their conduct ought to be
considered as moral. As far as deliberation, and the victory over
opposing motives are concerned, animals may be seen doubting between
opposed instincts, in rescuing their offspring or comrades from danger;
yet their actions, though done for the good of others, are not called
moral. Moreover, anything performed very often by us, will at last be
done without deliberation or hesitation, and can then hardly be
distinguished from an instinct; yet surely no one will pretend that
such an action ceases to be moral. On the contrary, we all feel that an
act cannot be considered as perfect, or as performed in the most noble
manner, unless it be done impulsively, without deliberation or effort,
in the same manner as by a man in whom the requisite qualities are
innate. He who is forced to overcome his fear or want of sympathy
before he acts, deserves, however, in one way higher credit than the
man whose innate disposition leads him to a good act without effort. As
we cannot distinguish between motives, we rank all actions of a certain
class as moral, if performed by a moral being. A moral being is one who
is capable of comparing his past and future actions or motives, and of
approving or disapproving of them. We have no reason to suppose that
any of the lower animals have this capacity; therefore, when a
Newfoundland dog drags a child out of the water, or a monkey faces
danger to rescue its comrade, or takes charge of an orphan monkey, we
do not call its conduct moral. But in the case of man, who alone can
with certainty be ranked as a moral being, actions of a certain class
are called moral, whether performed deliberately, after a struggle with
opposing motives, or impulsively through instinct, or from the effects
of slowly-gained habit.
But to return to our more immediate subject. Although some instincts
are more powerful than others, and thus lead to corresponding actions,
yet it is untenable, that in man the social instincts (including the
love of praise and fear of blame) possess greater strength, or have,
through long habit, acquired greater strength than the instincts of
self-preservation, hunger, lust, vengeance, etc. Why then does man
regret, even though trying to banish such regret, that he has followed
the one natural impulse rather than the other; and why does he further
feel that he ought to regret his conduct? Man in this respect differs
profoundly from the lower animals. Nevertheless we can, I think, see
with some degree of clearness the reason of this difference.
Man, from the activity of his mental faculties, cannot avoid
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 a habitual one, after success has wondered why he
stole some article. (27. Enmity or hatred seems also to be a highly
persistent feeling, perhaps more so than any other that can be named.
Envy is defined as hatred of another for some excellence or success;
and Bacon insists (Essay ix.), “Of all other affections envy is the
most importune and continual.” Dogs are very apt to hate both strange
men and strange dogs, especially if they live near at hand, but do not
belong to the same family, tribe, or clan; this feeling would thus seem
to be innate, and is certainly a most persistent one. It seems to be
the complement and converse of the true social instinct. From what we
hear of savages, it would appear that something of the same kind holds
good with them. If this be so, it would be a small step in any one to
transfer such feelings to any member of the same tribe if he had done
him an injury and had become his enemy. Nor is it probable that the
primitive conscience would reproach a man for injuring his enemy;
rather it would reproach him, if he had not revenged himself. To do
good in return for evil, to love your enemy, is a height of morality to
which it may be doubted whether the social instincts would, by
themselves, have ever led us. It is necessary that these instincts,
together with sympathy, should have been highly cultivated and extended
by the aid of reason, instruction, and the love or fear of God, before
any such golden rule would ever be thought of and obeyed.)
A man cannot prevent past impressions often repassing through his mind;
he will thus be driven to make a comparison between the impressions of
past hunger, vengeance satisfied, or danger shunned at other men’s
cost, with the almost ever-present instinct of sympathy, and with his
early knowledge of what others consider as praiseworthy or blameable.
This knowledge cannot be banished from his mind, and from instinctive
sympathy is esteemed of great moment. He will then feel as if he had
been baulked in following a present instinct or habit, and this with
all animals causes dissatisfaction, or even misery.
The above case of the swallow affords an illustration, though of a
reversed nature, of a temporary though for the time strongly persistent
instinct conquering another instinct, which is usually dominant over
all others. At the proper season these birds seem all day long to be
impressed with the desire to migrate; their habits change; they become
restless, are noisy and congregate in flocks. Whilst the mother-bird is
feeding, or brooding over her nestlings, the maternal instinct is
probably stronger than the migratory; but the instinct which is the
more persistent gains the victory, and at last, at a moment when her
young ones are not in sight, she takes flight and deserts them. When
arrived at the end of her long journey, and the migratory instinct has
ceased to act, what an agony of remorse the bird would feel, if, from
being endowed with great mental activity, she could not prevent the
image constantly passing through her mind, of her young ones perishing
in the bleak north from cold and hunger.
At the moment of action, man will no doubt be apt to follow the
stronger impulse; and though this may occasionally prompt him to the
noblest deeds, it will more commonly lead him to gratify his own
desires at the expense of other men. But after their gratification when
past and weaker impressions are judged by the ever-enduring social
instinct, and by his deep regard for the good opinion of his fellows,
retribution will surely come. He will then feel remorse, repentance,
regret, or shame; this latter feeling, however, relates almost
exclusively to the judgment of others. He will consequently resolve
more or less firmly to act differently for the future; and this is
conscience; for conscience looks backwards, and serves as a guide for
the future.
The nature and strength of the feelings which we call regret, shame,
repentance or remorse, depend apparently not only on the strength of
the violated instinct, but partly on the strength of the temptation,
and often still more on the judgment of our fellows. How far each man
values the appreciation of others, depends on the strength of his
innate or acquired feeling of sympathy; and on his own capacity for
reasoning out the remote consequences of his acts. Another element is
most important, although not necessary, the reverence or fear of the
Gods, or Spirits believed in by each man: and this applies especially
in cases of remorse. 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 (28. ‘Insanity in Relation to Law,’
Ontario, United States, 1871, p. 1.), 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.” (29. E.B. Tylor, in ‘Contemporary Review,’ April 1873, p.
707.) 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. On the whole it is intelligible, that
a man urged by so powerful a sentiment as remorse, though arising as
above explained, should be led to act in a manner, which he has been
taught to believe serves as an expiation, such as delivering himself up
to justice.
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 realised.
If he has no such sympathy, and if his desires leading to bad actions
are at the time strong, and when recalled are not over-mastered by the
persistent social instincts, and the judgment of others, then he is
essentially a bad man (30. Dr. Prosper Despine, in his Psychologie
Naturelle, 1868 (tom. i. p. 243; tom. ii. p. 169) gives many curious
cases of the worst criminals, who apparently have been entirely
destitute of conscience.); 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.
THE STRICTLY SOCIAL VIRTUES AT FIRST ALONE REGARDED.
The above view of the origin and nature of the moral sense, which tells
us what we ought to do, and of the conscience which reproves us if we
disobey it, accords well with what we see of the early and undeveloped
condition of this faculty in mankind. The virtues which must be
practised, at least generally, by rude men, so that they may associate
in a body, are those which are still recognised as the most important.
But they are practised almost exclusively in relation to the men of the
same tribe; and their opposites are not regarded as crimes in relation
to the men of other tribes. No tribe could hold together if murder,
robbery, treachery, etc., were common; consequently such crimes within
the limits of the same tribe “are branded with everlasting infamy” (31.
See an able article in the ‘North British Review,’ 1867, p. 395. See
also Mr. W. Bagehot’s articles on the Importance of Obedience and
Coherence to Primitive Man, in the ‘Fortnightly Review,’ 1867, p. 529,
and 1868, p. 457, etc.); but excite no such sentiment beyond these
limits. A North-American Indian is well pleased with himself, and is
honoured by others, when he scalps a man of another tribe; and a Dyak
cuts off the head of an unoffending person, and dries it as a trophy.
The murder of infants has prevailed on the largest scale throughout the
world (32. The fullest account which I have met with is by Dr. Gerland,
in his ‘Ueber den Aussterben der Naturvölker,’ 1868; but I shall have
to recur to the subject of infanticide in a future chapter.), and has
met with no reproach; but infanticide, especially of females, has been
thought to be good for the tribe, or at least not injurious. Suicide
during former times was not generally considered as a crime (33. See
the very interesting discussion on suicide in Lecky’s ‘History of
European Morals,’ vol. i. 1869, p. 223. With respect to savages, Mr.
Winwood Reade informs me that the negroes of West Africa often commit
suicide. It is well known how common it was amongst the miserable
aborigines of South America after the Spanish conquest. For New
Zealand, see the voyage of the Novara, and for the Aleutian Islands,
Müller, as quoted by Houzeau, ‘Les Facultés Mentales,’ etc., tom. ii.
p. 136.), but rather, from the courage displayed, as an honourable act;
and it is still practised by some semi-civilised 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 travellers as
did his father before him. In a rude state of civilisation the robbery
of strangers is, indeed, generally considered as honourable.
Slavery, although in some ways beneficial during ancient times (34. See
Mr. Bagehot, ‘Physics and Politics,’ 1872, p. 72.), is a great crime;
yet it was not so regarded until quite recently, even by the most
civilised 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. Most savages are utterly indifferent to the
sufferings of strangers, or even delight in witnessing them. It is well
known that the women and children of the North-American Indians aided
in torturing their enemies. Some savages take a horrid pleasure in
cruelty to animals (35. See, for instance, Mr. Hamilton’s account of
the Kaffirs, ‘Anthropological Review,’ 1870, p. xv.), and humanity is
an unknown virtue. Nevertheless, besides the family affections,
kindness is common, especially during sickness, between the members of
the same tribe, and is sometimes extended beyond these limits. Mungo
Park’s touching account of the kindness of the negro women of the
interior to him is well known. Many instances could be given of the
noble fidelity of savages towards each other, but not to strangers;
common experience justifies the maxim of the Spaniard, “Never, never
trust an Indian.” There cannot be fidelity without truth; and this
fundamental virtue is not rare between the members of the same tribe:
thus Mungo Park heard the negro women teaching their young children to
love the truth. This, again, is one of the virtues which becomes so
deeply rooted in the mind, that it is sometimes practised by savages,
even at a high cost, towards strangers; but to lie to your enemy has
rarely been thought a sin, as the history of modern diplomacy too
plainly shews. As soon as a tribe has a recognised leader, disobedience
becomes a crime, and even abject submission is looked at as a sacred
virtue.
As during rude times no man can be useful or faithful to his tribe
without courage, this quality has universally been placed in the
highest rank; and although in civilised countries a good yet timid man
may be far more useful to the community than a brave one, we cannot
help instinctively honouring the latter above a coward, however
benevolent. Prudence, on the other hand, which does not concern the
welfare of others, though a very useful virtue, has never been highly
esteemed. As no man can practise the virtues necessary for the welfare
of his tribe without self-sacrifice, self-command, and the power of
endurance, these qualities have been at all times highly and most
justly valued. The American savage voluntarily submits to the most
horrid tortures without a groan, to prove and strengthen his fortitude
and courage; and we cannot help admiring him, or even an Indian Fakir,
who, from a foolish religious motive, swings suspended by a hook buried
in his flesh.
The other so-called self-regarding virtues, which do not obviously,
though they may really, affect the welfare of the tribe, have never
been esteemed by savages, though now highly appreciated by civilised
nations. The greatest intemperance is no reproach with savages. Utter
licentiousness, and unnatural crimes, prevail to an astounding extent.
(36. Mr. M’Lennan has given (‘Primitive Marriage,’ 1865, p. 176) a good
collection of facts on this head.) As soon, however, as marriage,
whether polygamous, or monogamous, becomes common, jealousy will lead
to the inculcation of female virtue; and this, being honoured, will
tend to spread to the unmarried females. How slowly it spreads to the
male sex, we see at the present day. Chastity eminently requires
self-command; therefore it has been honoured from a very early period
in the moral history of civilised man. As a consequence of this, the
senseless practice of celibacy has been ranked from a remote period as
a virtue. (38. Lecky, ‘History of European Morals,’ vol. i. 1869, p.
109.) The hatred of indecency, which appears to us so natural as to be
thought innate, and which is so valuable an aid to chastity, is a
modern virtue, appertaining exclusively, as Sir G. Staunton remarks
(38. ‘Embassy to China,’ vol. ii. p. 348.), to civilised life. This is
shewn by the ancient religious rites of various nations, by the
drawings on the walls of Pompeii, and by the practices of many savages.
We have now seen that actions are regarded by savages, and were
probably so regarded by primeval man, as good or bad, solely as they
obviously affect the welfare of the tribe,—not that of the species, nor
that of an individual member of the tribe. This conclusion agrees well
with the belief that the so-called moral sense is aboriginally derived
from the social instincts, for both relate at first exclusively to the
community.
The chief causes of the low morality of savages, as judged by our
standard, are, firstly, the confinement of sympathy to the same tribe.
Secondly, powers of reasoning insufficient to recognise the bearing of
many virtues, especially of the self-regarding virtues, on the general
welfare of the tribe. Savages, for instance, fail to trace the
multiplied evils consequent on a want of temperance, chastity, etc.
And, thirdly, weak power of self-command; for this power has not been
strengthened through long-continued, perhaps inherited, habit,
instruction and religion.
I have entered into the above details on the immorality of savages (39.
See on this subject copious evidence in Chap. vii. of Sir J. Lubbock,
‘Origin of Civilisation,’ 1870.), because some authors have recently
taken a high view of their moral nature, or have attributed most of
their crimes to mistaken benevolence. (40. For instance Lecky, ‘History
of European Morals,’ vol. i. p. 124.) These authors appear to rest
their conclusion on savages possessing those virtues which are
serviceable, or even necessary, for the existence of the family and of
the tribe,—qualities which they undoubtedly do possess, and often in a
high degree.
CONCLUDING REMARKS.
It was assumed formerly by philosophers of the derivative (41. This
term is used in an able article in the ‘Westminster Review,’ Oct. 1869,
p. 498. For the “Greatest happiness principle,” see J.S. Mill,
‘Utilitarianism,’ p. 17.) school of morals that the foundation of
morality lay in a form of Selfishness; but more recently the “Greatest
happiness principle” has been brought prominently forward. It is,
however, more correct to speak of the latter principle as the standard,
and not as the motive of conduct. Nevertheless, all the authors whose
works I have consulted, with a few exceptions (42. Mill recognises
(‘System of Logic,’ vol. ii. p. 422) in the clearest manner, that
actions may be performed through habit without the anticipation of
pleasure. Mr. H. Sidgwick also, in his Essay on Pleasure and Desire
(‘The Contemporary Review,’ April 1872, p. 671), remarks: “To sum up,
in contravention of the doctrine that our conscious active impulses are
always directed towards the production of agreeable sensations in
ourselves, I would maintain that we find everywhere in consciousness
extra-regarding impulse, directed towards something that is not
pleasure; that in many cases the impulse is so far incompatible with
the self-regarding that the two do not easily co-exist in the same
moment of consciousness.” A dim feeling that our impulses do not by any
means always arise from any contemporaneous or anticipated pleasure,
has, I cannot but think, been one chief cause of the acceptance of the
intuitive theory of morality, and of the rejection of the utilitarian
or “Greatest happiness” theory. With respect to the latter theory the
standard and the motive of conduct have no doubt often been confused,
but they are really in some degree blended.), write as if there must be
a distinct motive for every action, and that this must be associated
with some pleasure or displeasure. But man seems often to act
impulsively, that is from instinct or long habit, without any
consciousness of pleasure, in the same manner as does probably a bee or
ant, when it blindly follows its instincts. Under circumstances of
extreme peril, as during a fire, when a man endeavours to save a
fellow-creature without a moment’s hesitation, he can hardly feel
pleasure; and still less has he time to reflect on the dissatisfaction
which he might subsequently experience if he did not make the attempt.
Should he afterwards reflect over his own conduct, he would feel that
there lies within him an impulsive power widely different from a search
after pleasure or happiness; and this seems to be the deeply planted
social instinct.
In the case of the lower animals it seems much more appropriate to
speak of their social instincts, as having been developed for the
general good rather than for the general happiness of the species. The
term, general good, may be defined as the rearing of the greatest
number of individuals in full vigour and health, with all their
faculties perfect, under the conditions to which they are subjected. As
the social instincts both of man and the lower animals have no doubt
been developed by nearly the same steps, it would be advisable, if
found practicable, to use the same definition in both cases, and to
take as the standard of morality, the general good or welfare of the
community, rather than the general happiness; but this definition would
perhaps require some limitation on account of political ethics.
When a man risks his life to save that of a fellow-creature, it seems
also more correct to say that he acts for the general good, rather than
for the general happiness of mankind. No doubt the welfare and the
happiness of the individual usually coincide; and a contented, happy
tribe will flourish better than one that is discontented and unhappy.
We have seen that even at an early period in the history of man, the
expressed wishes of the community will have naturally influenced to a
large extent the conduct of each member; and as all wish for happiness,
the “greatest happiness principle” will have become a most important
secondary guide and object; the social instinct, however, together with
sympathy (which leads to our regarding the approbation and
disapprobation of others), having served as the primary impulse and
guide. Thus the reproach is removed of laying the foundation of the
noblest part of our nature in the base principle of selfishness;
unless, indeed, the satisfaction which every animal feels, when it
follows its proper instincts, and the dissatisfaction felt when
prevented, be called selfish.
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 reinforce 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 HONOUR,
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 recognise 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. The judgment of the community will generally
be guided by some rude experience of what is best in the long run for
all the members; but this judgment will not rarely err from ignorance
and weak powers of reasoning. Hence the strangest customs and
superstitions, in complete opposition to the true welfare and happiness
of mankind, have become all-powerful throughout the world. We see this
in the horror felt by a Hindoo who breaks his caste, and in many other
such cases. It would be difficult to distinguish between the remorse
felt by a Hindoo who has yielded to the temptation of eating unclean
food, from that felt after committing a theft; but the former would
probably be the more severe.
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 mind of men; but it is worthy of remark that a belief constantly
inculcated during the early years of life, whilst 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 (43. Good instances are given by Mr. Wallace in
‘Scientific Opinion,’ Sept. 15, 1869; and more fully in his
‘Contributions to the Theory of Natural Selection,’ 1870, p. 353.);
nor, again, why similar differences prevail even amongst highly
civilised 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.
Not withstanding many sources of doubt, man can generally and readily
distinguish between the higher and lower moral rules. The higher are
founded on the social instincts, and relate to the welfare of others.
They are supported by the approbation of our fellow-men and by reason.
The lower rules, though some of them when implying self-sacrifice
hardly deserve to be called lower, relate chiefly to self, and arise
from public opinion, matured by experience and cultivation; for they
are not practised by rude tribes.
As man advances in civilisation, and small tribes are united into
larger communities, the simplest reason would tell each individual that
he ought to extend his social instincts and sympathies to all the
members of the same nation, though personally unknown to him. This
point being once reached, there is only an artificial barrier to
prevent his sympathies extending to the men of all nations and races.
If, indeed, such men are separated from him by great differences in
appearance or habits, experience unfortunately shews us how long it is,
before we look at them as our fellow-creatures. Sympathy beyond the
confines of man, that is, humanity to the lower animals, seems to be
one of the latest moral acquisitions. It is apparently unfelt by
savages, except towards their pets. How little the old Romans knew of
it is shewn by their abhorrent gladiatorial exhibitions. The very idea
of humanity, as far as I could observe, was new to most of the Gauchos
of the Pampas. This virtue, one of the noblest with which man is
endowed, seems to arise incidentally from our sympathies becoming more
tender and more widely diffused, until they are extended to all
sentient beings. As soon as this virtue is honoured and practised by
some few men, it spreads through instruction and example to the young,
and eventually becomes incorporated in public opinion.
The highest possible stage in moral culture is when we recognise that
we ought to control our thoughts, and “not even in inmost thought to
think again the sins that made the past so pleasant to us.” (44.
Tennyson, Idylls of the King, p. 244.) Whatever makes any bad action
familiar to the mind, renders its performance by so much the easier. As
Marcus Aurelius long ago said, “Such as are thy habitual thoughts, such
also will be the character of thy mind; for the soul is dyed by the
thoughts.” (45. ‘The Thoughts of the Emperor M. Aurelius Antoninus,’
English translation, 2nd edit., 1869. p. 112. Marcus Aurelius was born
A.D. 121.)
Our great philosopher, Herbert Spencer, has recently explained his
views on the moral sense. He says (46. Letter to Mr. Mill in Bain’s
‘Mental and Moral Science,’ 1868, p. 722.), “I believe that the
experiences of utility organised and consolidated through all past
generations of the human race, have been producing corresponding
modifications, which, by continued transmission and accumulation, have
become in us certain faculties of moral intuition—certain emotions
responding to right and wrong conduct, which have no apparent basis in
the individual experiences of utility.” There is not the least inherent
improbability, as it seems to me, in virtuous tendencies being more or
less strongly inherited; for, not to mention the various dispositions
and habits transmitted by many of our domestic animals to their
offspring, I have heard of authentic cases in which a desire to steal
and a tendency to lie appeared to run in families of the upper ranks;
and as stealing is a rare crime in the wealthy classes, we can hardly
account by accidental coincidence for the tendency occurring in two or
three members of the same family. If bad tendencies are transmitted, it
is probable that good ones are likewise transmitted. That the state of
the body by affecting the brain, has great influence on the moral
tendencies is known to most of those who have suffered from chronic
derangements of the digestion or liver. The same fact is likewise shewn
by the “perversion or destruction of the moral sense being often one of
the earliest symptoms of mental derangement” (47. Maudsley, ‘Body and
Mind,’ 1870, p. 60.); and insanity is notoriously often inherited.
Except through the principle of the transmission of moral tendencies,
we cannot understand the differences believed to exist in this respect
between the various races of mankind.
Even the partial transmission of virtuous tendencies would be an
immense assistance to the primary impulse derived directly and
indirectly from the social instincts. Admitting for a moment that
virtuous tendencies are inherited, it appears probable, at least in
such cases as chastity, temperance, humanity to animals, etc., that
they become first impressed on the mental organization through habit,
instruction and example, continued during several generations in the
same family, and in a quite subordinate degree, or not at all, by the
individuals possessing such virtues having succeeded best in the
struggle for life. My chief source of doubt with respect to any such
inheritance, is that senseless customs, superstitions, and tastes, such
as the horror of a Hindoo for unclean food, ought on the same principle
to be transmitted. I have not met with any evidence in support of the
transmission of superstitious customs or senseless habits, although in
itself it is perhaps not less probable than that animals should acquire
inherited tastes for certain kinds of food or fear of certain foes.
Finally the social instincts, which no doubt were acquired by man as by
the lower animals for the good of the community, will from the first
have given to him some wish to aid his fellows, some feeling of
sympathy, and have compelled him to regard their approbation and
disapprobation. Such impulses will have served him at a very early
period as a rude rule of right and wrong. But as man gradually advanced
in intellectual power, and was enabled to trace the more remote
consequences of his actions; as he acquired sufficient knowledge to
reject baneful customs and superstitions; as he regarded more and more,
not only the welfare, but the happiness of his fellow-men; as from
habit, following on beneficial experience, instruction and example, his
sympathies became more tender and widely diffused, extending to men of
all races, to the imbecile, maimed, and other useless members of
society, and finally to the lower animals,—so would the standard of his
morality rise higher and higher. And it is admitted by moralists of the
derivative school and by some intuitionists, that the standard of
morality has risen since an early period in the history of man. (48. A
writer in the ‘North British Review’ (July 1869, p. 531), well capable
of forming a sound judgment, expresses himself strongly in favour of
this conclusion. Mr. Lecky (‘History of Morals,’ vol. i. p. 143) seems
to a certain extent to coincide therein.)
As a struggle may sometimes be seen going on between the various
instincts of the lower animals, it is not surprising that there should
be a struggle in man between his social instincts, with their derived
virtues, and his lower, though momentarily stronger impulses or
desires. This, as Mr. Galton (49. See his remarkable work on
‘Hereditary Genius,’ 1869, p. 349. The Duke of Argyll (‘Primeval Man,’
1869, p. 188) has some good remarks on the contest in man’s nature
between right and wrong.) has remarked, is all the less surprising, as
man has emerged from a state of barbarism within a comparatively recent
period. After having yielded to some temptation we feel a sense of
dissatisfaction, shame, repentance, or remorse, analogous to the
feelings caused by other powerful instincts or desires, when left
unsatisfied or baulked. We compare the weakened impression of a past
temptation with the ever present social instincts, or with habits,
gained in early youth and strengthened during our whole lives, until
they have become almost as strong as instincts. If with the temptation
still before us we do not yield, it is because either the social
instinct or some custom is at the moment predominant, or because we
have learnt that it will appear to us hereafter the stronger, when
compared with the weakened impression of the temptation, and we realise
that its violation would cause us suffering. Looking to future
generations, there is no cause to fear that the social instincts will
grow weaker, and we may expect that virtuous habits will grow stronger,
becoming perhaps fixed by inheritance. In this case the struggle
between our higher and lower impulses will be less severe, and virtue
will be triumphant.
A SUMMARY OF THE LAST TWO CHAPTERS.
There can be no doubt that the difference between the mind of the
lowest man and that of the highest animal is immense. An
anthropomorphous ape, if he could take a dispassionate view of his own
case, would admit that though he could form an artful plan to plunder a
garden—though he could use stones for fighting or for breaking open
nuts, yet that the thought of fashioning a stone into a tool was quite
beyond his scope. Still less, as he would admit, could he follow out a
train of metaphysical reasoning, or solve a mathematical problem, or
reflect on God, or admire a grand natural scene. Some apes, however,
would probably declare that they could and did admire the beauty of the
coloured skin and fur of their partners in marriage. They would admit,
that though they could make other apes understand by cries some of
their perceptions and simpler wants, the notion of expressing definite
ideas by definite sounds had never crossed their minds. They might
insist that they were ready to aid their fellow-apes of the same troop
in many ways, to risk their lives for them, and to take charge of their
orphans; but they would be forced to acknowledge that disinterested
love for all living creatures, the most noble attribute of man, was
quite beyond their comprehension.
Nevertheless the difference in mind between man and the higher animals,
great as it is, certainly is one of degree and not of kind. We have
seen that the senses and intuitions, the various emotions and
faculties, such as love, memory, attention, curiosity, imitation,
reason, etc., of which man boasts, may be found in an incipient, or
even sometimes in a well-developed condition, in the lower animals.
They are also capable of some inherited improvement, as we see in the
domestic dog compared with the wolf or jackal. If it could be proved
that certain high mental powers, such as the formation of general
concepts, self-consciousness, etc., were absolutely peculiar to man,
which seems extremely doubtful, it is not improbable that these
qualities are merely the incidental results of other highly-advanced
intellectual faculties; and these again mainly the result of the
continued use of a perfect language. At what age does the new-born
infant possess the power of abstraction, or become self-conscious, and
reflect on its own existence? We cannot answer; nor can we answer in
regard to the ascending organic scale. The half-art, half-instinct of
language still bears the stamp of its gradual evolution. The ennobling
belief in God is not universal with man; and the belief in spiritual
agencies naturally follows from other mental powers. The moral sense
perhaps affords the best and highest distinction between man and the
lower animals; but I need say nothing on this head, as I have so lately
endeavoured to shew that the social instincts,—the prime principle of
man’s moral constitution (50. ‘The Thoughts of Marcus Aurelius,’ etc.,
p. 139.)—with the aid of active intellectual powers and the effects of
habit, naturally lead to the golden rule, “As ye would that men should
do to you, do ye to them likewise;” and this lies at the foundation of
morality.
In the next chapter I shall make some few remarks on the probable steps
and means by which the several mental and moral faculties of man have
been gradually evolved. That such evolution is at least possible, ought
not to be denied, for we daily see these faculties developing in every
infant; and we may trace a perfect gradation from the mind of an utter
idiot, lower than that of an animal low in the scale, to the mind of a
Newton.
CHAPTER V.
ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL FACULTIES DURING
PRIMEVAL AND CIVILISED TIMES.
Advancement of the intellectual powers through natural
selection—Importance of imitation—Social and moral faculties—Their
development within the limits of the same tribe—Natural selection as
affecting civilised nations—Evidence that civilised nations were once
barbarous.
The subjects to be discussed in this chapter are of the highest
interest, but are treated by me in an imperfect and fragmentary manner.
Mr. Wallace, in an admirable paper before referred to (1.
Anthropological Review, May 1864, p. clviii.), argues that man, after
he had partially acquired those intellectual and moral faculties which
distinguish him from the lower animals, would have been but little
liable to bodily modifications through natural selection or any other
means. For man is enabled through his mental faculties “to keep with an
unchanged body in harmony with the changing universe.” He has great
power of adapting his habits to new conditions of life. He invents
weapons, tools, and various stratagems to procure food and to defend
himself. When he migrates into a colder climate he uses clothes, builds
sheds, and makes fires; and by the aid of fire cooks food otherwise
indigestible. He aids his fellow-men in many ways, and anticipates
future events. Even at a remote period he practised some division of
labour.
The lower animals, on the other hand, must have their bodily structure
modified in order to survive under greatly changed conditions. They
must be rendered stronger, or acquire more effective teeth or claws,
for defence against new enemies; or they must be reduced in size, so as
to escape detection and danger. When they migrate into a colder
climate, they must become clothed with thicker fur, or have their
constitutions altered. If they fail to be thus modified, they will
cease to exist.
The case, however, is widely different, as Mr. Wallace has with justice
insisted, in relation to the intellectual and moral faculties of man.
These faculties are variable; and we have every reason to believe that
the variations tend to be inherited. Therefore, if they were formerly
of high importance to primeval man and to his ape-like progenitors,
they would have been perfected or advanced through natural selection.
Of the high importance of the intellectual faculties there can be no
doubt, for man mainly owes to them his predominant position in the
world. We can see, that in the rudest state of society, the individuals
who were the most sagacious, who invented and used the best weapons or
traps, and who were best able to defend themselves, would rear the
greatest number of offspring. The tribes, which included the largest
number of men thus endowed, would increase in number and supplant other
tribes. Numbers depend primarily on the means of subsistence, and this
depends partly on the physical nature of the country, but in a much
higher degree on the arts which are there practised. As a tribe
increases and is victorious, it is often still further increased by the
absorption of other tribes. (2. After a time the members or tribes
which are absorbed into another tribe assume, as Sir Henry Maine
remarks (‘Ancient Law,’ 1861, p. 131), that they are the co-descendants
of the same ancestors.) The stature and strength of the men of a tribe
are likewise of some importance for its success, and these depend in
part on the nature and amount of the food which can be obtained. In
Europe the men of the Bronze period were supplanted by a race more
powerful, and, judging from their sword-handles, with larger hands (3.
Morlot, ‘Soc. Vaud. Sc. Nat.’ 1860, p. 294.); but their success was
probably still more due to their superiority in the arts.
All that we know about savages, or may infer from their traditions and
from old monuments, the history of which is quite forgotten by the
present inhabitants, shew that from the remotest times successful
tribes have supplanted other tribes. Relics of extinct or forgotten
tribes have been discovered throughout the civilised regions of the
earth, on the wild plains of America, and on the isolated islands in
the Pacific Ocean. At the present day civilised nations are everywhere
supplanting barbarous nations, excepting where the climate opposes a
deadly barrier; and they succeed mainly, though not exclusively,
through their arts, which are the products of the intellect. It is,
therefore, highly probable that with mankind the intellectual faculties
have been mainly and gradually perfected through natural selection; and
this conclusion is sufficient for our purpose. Undoubtedly it would be
interesting to trace the development of each separate faculty from the
state in which it exists in the lower animals to that in which it
exists in man; but neither my ability nor knowledge permits the
attempt.
It deserves notice that, as soon as the progenitors of man became
social (and this probably occurred at a very early period), the
principle of imitation, and reason, and experience would have
increased, and much modified the intellectual powers in a way, of which
we see only traces in the lower animals. Apes are much given to
imitation, as are the lowest savages; and the simple fact previously
referred to, that after a time no animal can be caught in the same
place by the same sort of trap, shews that animals learn by experience,
and imitate the caution of others. Now, if some one man in a tribe,
more sagacious than the others, invented a new snare or weapon, or
other means of attack or defence, the plainest self-interest, without
the assistance of much reasoning power, would prompt the other members
to imitate him; and all would thus profit. The habitual practice of
each new art must likewise in some slight degree strengthen the
intellect. If the new invention were an important one, the tribe would
increase in number, spread, and supplant other tribes. In a tribe thus
rendered more numerous there would always be a rather greater chance of
the birth of other superior and inventive members. If such men left
children to inherit their mental superiority, the chance of the birth
of still more ingenious members would be somewhat better, and in a very
small tribe decidedly better. Even if they left no children, the tribe
would still include their blood-relations; and it has been ascertained
by agriculturists (4. I have given instances in my Variation of Animals
under Domestication, vol. ii. p. 196.) that by preserving and breeding
from the family of an animal, which when slaughtered was found to be
valuable, the desired character has been obtained.
Turning now to the social and moral faculties. In order that primeval
men, or the ape-like progenitors of man, should become social, they
must have acquired the same instinctive feelings, which impel other
animals to live in a body; and they no doubt exhibited the same general
disposition. They would have felt uneasy when separated from their
comrades, for whom they would have felt some degree of love; they would
have warned each other of danger, and have given mutual aid in attack
or defence. All this implies some degree of sympathy, fidelity, and
courage. Such social qualities, the paramount importance of which to
the lower animals is disputed by no one, were no doubt acquired by the
progenitors of man in a similar manner, namely, through natural
selection, aided by inherited habit. When two tribes of primeval man,
living in the same country, came into competition, if (other
circumstances being equal) the one tribe included a great number of
courageous, sympathetic and faithful members, who were always ready to
warn each other of danger, to aid and defend each other, this tribe
would succeed better and conquer the other. Let it be borne in mind how
all-important in the never-ceasing wars of savages, fidelity and
courage must be. The advantage which disciplined soldiers have over
undisciplined hordes follows chiefly from the confidence which each man
feels in his comrades. Obedience, as Mr. Bagehot has well shewn (5. See
a remarkable series of articles on ‘Physics and Politics,’ in the
‘Fortnightly Review,’ Nov. 1867; April 1, 1868; July 1, 1869, since
separately published.), is of the highest value, for any form of
government is better than none. Selfish and contentious people will not
cohere, and without coherence nothing can be effected. A tribe rich in
the above qualities would spread and be victorious over other tribes:
but in the course of time it would, judging from all past history, be
in its turn overcome by some other tribe still more highly endowed.
Thus the social and moral qualities would tend slowly to advance and be
diffused throughout the world.
But it may be asked, how within the limits of the same tribe did a
large number of members first become endowed with these social and
moral qualities, and how was the standard of excellence raised? It is
extremely doubtful whether the offspring of the more sympathetic and
benevolent parents, or of those who were the most faithful to their
comrades, would be reared in greater numbers than the children of
selfish and treacherous parents belonging to the same tribe. He who was
ready to sacrifice his life, as many a savage has been, rather than
betray his comrades, would often leave no offspring to inherit his
noble nature. The bravest men, who were always willing to come to the
front in war, and who freely risked their lives for others, would on an
average perish in larger numbers than other men. Therefore, it hardly
seems probable, that the number of men gifted with such virtues, or
that the standard of their excellence, could be increased through
natural selection, that is, by the survival of the fittest; for we are
not here speaking of one tribe being victorious over another.
Although the circumstances, leading to an increase in the number of
those thus endowed within the same tribe, are too complex to be clearly
followed out, we can trace some of the probable steps. In the first
place, as the reasoning powers and foresight of the members became
improved, each man would soon learn that if he aided his fellow-men, he
would commonly receive aid in return. From this low motive he might
acquire the habit of aiding his fellows; and the habit of performing
benevolent actions certainly strengthens the feeling of sympathy which
gives the first impulse to benevolent actions. Habits, moreover,
followed during many generations probably tend to be inherited.
But another and much more powerful stimulus to the development of the
social virtues, is afforded by the praise and the blame of our
fellow-men. To the instinct of sympathy, as we have already seen, it is
primarily due, that we habitually bestow both praise and blame on
others, whilst we love the former and dread the latter when applied to
ourselves; and this instinct no doubt was originally acquired, like all
the other social instincts, through natural selection. At how early a
period the progenitors of man in the course of their development,
became capable of feeling and being impelled by, the praise or blame of
their fellow-creatures, we cannot of course say. But it appears that
even dogs appreciate encouragement, praise, and blame. The rudest
savages feel the sentiment of glory, as they clearly shew by preserving
the trophies of their prowess, by their habit of excessive boasting,
and even by the extreme care which they take of their personal
appearance and decorations; for unless they regarded the opinion of
their comrades, such habits would be senseless.
They certainly feel shame at the breach of some of their lesser rules,
and apparently remorse, as shewn by the case of the Australian who grew
thin and could not rest from having delayed to murder some other woman,
so as to propitiate his dead wife’s spirit. Though I have not met with
any other recorded case, it is scarcely credible that a savage, who
will sacrifice his life rather than betray his tribe, or one who will
deliver himself up as a prisoner rather than break his parole (6. Mr.
Wallace gives cases in his ‘Contributions to the Theory of Natural
Selection,’ 1870, p. 354.), would not feel remorse in his inmost soul,
if he had failed in a duty, which he held sacred.
We may therefore conclude that primeval man, at a very remote period,
was influenced by the praise and blame of his fellows. It is obvious,
that the members of the same tribe would approve of conduct which
appeared to them to be for the general good, and would reprobate that
which appeared evil. To do good unto others—to do unto others as ye
would they should do unto you—is the foundation-stone of morality. It
is, therefore, hardly possible to exaggerate the importance during rude
times of the love of praise and the dread of blame. A man who was not
impelled by any deep, instinctive feeling, to sacrifice his life for
the good of others, yet was roused to such actions by a sense of glory,
would by his example excite the same wish for glory in other men, and
would strengthen by exercise the noble feeling of admiration. He might
thus do far more good to his tribe than by begetting offspring with a
tendency to inherit his own high character.
With increased experience and reason, man perceives the more remote
consequences of his actions, and the self-regarding virtues, such as
temperance, chastity, etc., which during early times are, as we have
before seen, utterly disregarded, come to be highly esteemed or even
held sacred. I need not, however, repeat what I have said on this head
in the fourth chapter. Ultimately our moral sense or conscience becomes
a highly complex sentiment—originating in the social instincts, largely
guided by the approbation of our fellow-men, ruled by reason,
self-interest, and in later times by deep religious feelings, and
confirmed by instruction and habit.
It must not be forgotten that although a high standard of morality
gives but a slight or no advantage to each individual man and his
children over the other men of the same tribe, yet that an increase in
the number of well-endowed men and an advancement in the standard of
morality will certainly give an immense advantage to one tribe over
another. A tribe including many members who, from possessing in a high
degree the spirit of patriotism, fidelity, obedience, courage, and
sympathy, were always ready to aid one another, and to sacrifice
themselves for the common good, would be victorious over most other
tribes; and this would be natural selection. At all times throughout
the world tribes have supplanted other tribes; and as morality is one
important element in their success, the standard of morality and the
number of well-endowed men will thus everywhere tend to rise and
increase.
It is, however, very difficult to form any judgment why one particular
tribe and not another has been successful and has risen in the scale of
civilisation. Many savages are in the same condition as when first
discovered several centuries ago. As Mr. Bagehot has remarked, we are
apt to look at progress as normal in human society; but history refutes
this. The ancients did not even entertain the idea, nor do the Oriental
nations at the present day. According to another high authority, Sir
Henry Maine (7. ‘Ancient Law,’ 1861, p. 22. For Mr. Bagehot’s remarks,
‘Fortnightly Review,’ April 1, 1868, p. 452.), “the greatest part of
mankind has never shewn a particle of desire that its civil
institutions should be improved.” Progress seems to depend on many
concurrent favourable conditions, far too complex to be followed out.
But it has often been remarked, that a cool climate, from leading to
industry and to the various arts, has been highly favourable thereto.
The Esquimaux, pressed by hard necessity, have succeeded in many
ingenious inventions, but their climate has been too severe for
continued progress. Nomadic habits, whether over wide plains, or
through the dense forests of the tropics, or along the shores of the
sea, have in every case been highly detrimental. Whilst observing the
barbarous inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego, it struck me that the
possession of some property, a fixed abode, and the union of many
families under a chief, were the indispensable requisites for
civilisation. Such habits almost necessitate the cultivation of the
ground; and the first steps in cultivation would probably result, as I
have elsewhere shewn (8. ‘The Variation of Animals and Plants under
Domestication,’ vol. i. p. 309.), from some such accident as the seeds
of a fruit-tree falling on a heap of refuse, and producing an unusually
fine variety. The problem, however, of the first advance of savages
towards civilisation is at present much too difficult to be solved.
NATURAL SELECTION AS AFFECTING CIVILISED NATIONS.
I have hitherto only considered the advancement of man from a
semi-human condition to that of the modern savage. But some remarks on
the action of natural selection on civilised nations may be worth
adding. This subject has been ably discussed by Mr. W.R. Greg (9.
‘Fraser’s Magazine,’ Sept. 1868, p. 353. This article seems to have
struck many persons, and has given rise to two remarkable essays and a
rejoinder in the ‘Spectator,’ Oct. 3rd and 17th, 1868. It has also been
discussed in the ‘Quarterly Journal of Science,’ 1869, p. 152, and by
Mr. Lawson Tait in the ‘Dublin Quarterly Journal of Medical Science,’
Feb. 1869, and by Mr. E. Ray Lankester in his ‘Comparative Longevity,’
1870, p. 128. Similar views appeared previously in the ‘Australasian,’
July 13, 1867. I have borrowed ideas from several of these writers.),
and previously by Mr. Wallace and Mr. Galton. (10. For Mr. Wallace, see
‘Anthropological Review,’ as before cited. Mr. Galton in ‘Macmillan’s
Magazine,’ Aug. 1865, p. 318; also his great work, ‘Hereditary Genius,’
1870.) Most of my remarks are taken from these three authors. With
savages, the weak in body or mind are soon eliminated; and those that
survive commonly exhibit a vigorous state of health. We civilised men,
on the other hand, do our utmost to check the process of elimination;
we build asylums for the imbecile, the maimed, and the sick; we
institute poor-laws; and our medical men exert their utmost skill to
save the life of every one to the last moment. There is reason to
believe that vaccination has preserved thousands, who from a weak
constitution would formerly have succumbed to small-pox. Thus the weak
members of civilised societies propagate their kind. No one who has
attended to the breeding of domestic animals will doubt that this must
be highly injurious to the race of man. It is surprising how soon a
want of care, or care wrongly directed, leads to the degeneration of a
domestic race; but excepting in the case of man himself, hardly any one
is so ignorant as to allow his worst animals to breed.
The aid which we feel impelled to give to the helpless is mainly an
incidental result of the instinct of sympathy, which was originally
acquired as part of the social instincts, but subsequently rendered, in
the manner previously indicated, more tender and more widely diffused.
Nor could we check our sympathy, even at the urging of hard reason,
without deterioration in the noblest part of our nature. The surgeon
may harden himself whilst performing an operation, for he knows that he
is acting for the good of his patient; but if we were intentionally to
neglect the weak and helpless, it could only be for a contingent
benefit, with an overwhelming present evil. We must therefore bear the
undoubtedly bad effects of the weak surviving and propagating their
kind; but there appears to be at least one check in steady action,
namely that the weaker and inferior members of society do not marry so
freely as the sound; and this check might be indefinitely increased by
the weak in body or mind refraining from marriage, though this is more
to be hoped for than expected.
In every country in which a large standing army is kept up, the finest
young men are taken by the conscription or are enlisted. They are thus
exposed to early death during war, are often tempted into vice, and are
prevented from marrying during the prime of life. On the other hand the
shorter and feebler men, with poor constitutions, are left at home, and
consequently have a much better chance of marrying and propagating
their kind. (11. Prof. H. Fick (‘Einfluss der Naturwissenschaft auf das
Recht,’ June 1872) has some good remarks on this head, and on other
such points.)
Man accumulates property and bequeaths it to his children, so that the
children of the rich have an advantage over the poor in the race for
success, independently of bodily or mental superiority. On the other
hand, the children of parents who are short-lived, and are therefore on
an average deficient in health and vigour, come into their property
sooner than other children, and will be likely to marry earlier, and
leave a larger number of offspring to inherit their inferior
constitutions. But the inheritance of property by itself is very far
from an evil; for without the accumulation of capital the arts could
not progress; and it is chiefly through their power that the civilised
races have extended, and are now everywhere extending their range, so
as to take the place of the lower races. Nor does the moderate
accumulation of wealth interfere with the process of selection. When a
poor man becomes moderately rich, his children enter trades or
professions in which there is struggle enough, so that the able in body
and mind succeed best. The presence of a body of well-instructed men,
who have not to labour for their daily bread, is important to a degree
which cannot be over-estimated; as all high intellectual work is
carried on by them, and on such work, material progress of all kinds
mainly depends, not to mention other and higher advantages. No doubt
wealth when very great tends to convert men into useless drones, but
their number is never large; and some degree of elimination here
occurs, for we daily see rich men, who happen to be fools or
profligate, squandering away their wealth.
Primogeniture with entailed estates is a more direct evil, though it
may formerly have been a great advantage by the creation of a dominant
class, and any government is better than none. Most eldest sons, though
they may be weak in body or mind, marry, whilst the younger sons,
however superior in these respects, do not so generally marry. Nor can
worthless eldest sons with entailed estates squander their wealth. But
here, as elsewhere, the relations of civilised life are so complex that
some compensatory checks intervene. The men who are rich through
primogeniture are able to select generation after generation the more
beautiful and charming women; and these must generally be healthy in
body and active in mind. The evil consequences, such as they may be, of
the continued preservation of the same line of descent, without any
selection, are checked by men of rank always wishing to increase their
wealth and power; and this they effect by marrying heiresses. But the
daughters of parents who have produced single children, are themselves,
as Mr. Galton (12. ‘Hereditary Genius,’ 1870, pp. 132-140.) has shewn,
apt to be sterile; and thus noble families are continually cut off in
the direct line, and their wealth flows into some side channel; but
unfortunately this channel is not determined by superiority of any
kind.
Although civilisation thus checks in many ways the action of natural
selection, it apparently favours the better development of the body, by
means of good food and the freedom from occasional hardships. This may
be inferred from civilised men having been found, wherever compared, to
be physically stronger than savages. (13. Quatrefages, ‘Revue des Cours
Scientifiques,’ 1867-68, p. 659.) They appear also to have equal powers
of endurance, as has been proved in many adventurous expeditions. Even
the great luxury of the rich can be but little detrimental; for the
expectation of life of our aristocracy, at all ages and of both sexes,
is very little inferior to that of healthy English lives in the lower
classes. (14. See the fifth and sixth columns, compiled from good
authorities, in the table given in Mr. E.R. Lankester’s ‘Comparative
Longevity,’ 1870, p. 115.)
We will now look to the intellectual faculties. If in each grade of
society the members were divided into two equal bodies, the one
including the intellectually superior and the other the inferior, there
can be little doubt that the former would succeed best in all
occupations, and rear a greater number of children. Even in the lowest
walks of life, skill and ability must be of some advantage; though in
many occupations, owing to the great division of labour, a very small
one. Hence in civilised nations there will be some tendency to an
increase both in the number and in the standard of the intellectually
able. But I do not wish to assert that this tendency may not be more
than counterbalanced in other ways, as by the multiplication of the
reckless and improvident; but even to such as these, ability must be
some advantage.
It has often been objected to views like the foregoing, that the most
eminent men who have ever lived have left no offspring to inherit their
great intellect. Mr. Galton says, “I regret I am unable to solve the
simple question whether, and how far, men and women who are prodigies
of genius are infertile. I have, however, shewn that men of eminence
are by no means so.” (15. ‘Hereditary Genius,’ 1870, p. 330.) Great
lawgivers, the founders of beneficent religions, great philosophers and
discoverers in science, aid the progress of mankind in a far higher
degree by their works than by leaving a numerous progeny. In the case
of corporeal structures, it is the selection of the slightly
better-endowed and the elimination of the slightly less well-endowed
individuals, and not the preservation of strongly-marked and rare
anomalies, that leads to the advancement of a species. (16. ‘Origin of
Species’ (fifth edition, 1869), p. 104.) So it will be with the
intellectual faculties, since the somewhat abler men in each grade of
society succeed rather better than the less able, and consequently
increase in number, if not otherwise prevented. When in any nation the
standard of intellect and the number of intellectual men have
increased, we may expect from the law of the deviation from an average,
that prodigies of genius will, as shewn by Mr. Galton, appear somewhat
more frequently than before.
In regard to the moral qualities, some elimination of the worst
dispositions is always in progress even in the most civilised nations.
Malefactors are executed, or imprisoned for long periods, so that they
cannot freely transmit their bad qualities. Melancholic and insane
persons are confined, or commit suicide. Violent and quarrelsome men
often come to a bloody end. The restless who will not follow any steady
occupation—and this relic of barbarism is a great check to civilisation
(17. ‘Hereditary Genius,’ 1870, p. 347.)—emigrate to newly-settled
countries; where they prove useful pioneers. Intemperance is so highly
destructive, that the expectation of life of the intemperate, at the
age of thirty for instance, is only 13.8 years; whilst for the rural
labourers of England at the same age it is 40.59 years. (18. E. Ray
Lankester, ‘Comparative Longevity,’ 1870, p. 115. The table of the
intemperate is from Neison’s ‘Vital Statistics.’ In regard to
profligacy, see Dr. Farr, ‘Influence of Marriage on Mortality,’ ‘Nat.
Assoc. for the Promotion of Social Science,’ 1858.) Profligate women
bear few children, and profligate men rarely marry; both suffer from
disease. In the breeding of domestic animals, the elimination of those
individuals, though few in number, which are in any marked manner
inferior, is by no means an unimportant element towards success. This
especially holds good with injurious characters which tend to reappear
through reversion, such as blackness in sheep; and with mankind some of
the worst dispositions, which occasionally without any assignable cause
make their appearance in families, may perhaps be reversions to a
savage state, from which we are not removed by very many generations.
This view seems indeed recognised in the common expression that such
men are the black sheep of the family.
With civilised nations, as far as an advanced standard of morality, and
an increased number of fairly good men are concerned, natural selection
apparently effects but little; though the fundamental social instincts
were originally thus gained. But I have already said enough, whilst
treating of the lower races, on the causes which lead to the advance of
morality, namely, the approbation of our fellow-men—the strengthening
of our sympathies by habit—example and imitation—reason—experience, and
even self-interest—instruction during youth, and religious feelings.
A most important obstacle in civilised countries to an increase in the
number of men of a superior class has been strongly insisted on by Mr.
Greg and Mr. Galton (19. ‘Fraser’s Magazine,’ Sept. 1868, p. 353.
‘Macmillan’s Magazine,’ Aug. 1865, p. 318. The Rev. F.W. Farrar
(‘Fraser’s Magazine,’ Aug. 1870, p. 264) takes a different view.),
namely, the fact that the very poor and reckless, who are often
degraded by vice, almost invariably marry early, whilst the careful and
frugal, who are generally otherwise virtuous, marry late in life, so
that they may be able to support themselves and their children in
comfort. Those who marry early produce within a given period not only a
greater number of generations, but, as shewn by Dr. Duncan (20. ‘On the
Laws of the Fertility of Women,’ in ‘Transactions of the Royal
Society,’ Edinburgh, vol. xxiv. p. 287; now published separately under
the title of ‘Fecundity, Fertility, and Sterility,’ 1871. See, also,
Mr. Galton, ‘Hereditary Genius,’ pp. 352-357, for observations to the
above effect.), they produce many more children. The children,
moreover, that are borne by mothers during the prime of life are
heavier and larger, and therefore probably more vigorous, than those
born at other periods. Thus the reckless, degraded, and often vicious
members of society, tend to increase at a quicker rate than the
provident and generally virtuous members. Or as Mr. Greg puts the case:
“The careless, squalid, unaspiring Irishman multiplies like rabbits:
the frugal, foreseeing, self-respecting, ambitious Scot, stern in his
morality, spiritual in his faith, sagacious and disciplined in his
intelligence, passes his best years in struggle and in celibacy,
marries late, and leaves few behind him. Given a land originally
peopled by a thousand Saxons and a thousand Celts—and in a dozen
generations five-sixths of the population would be Celts, but
five-sixths of the property, of the power, of the intellect, would
belong to the one-sixth of Saxons that remained. In the eternal
‘struggle for existence,’ it would be the inferior and LESS favoured
race that had prevailed—and prevailed by virtue not of its good
qualities but of its faults.”
There are, however, some checks to this downward tendency. We have seen
that the intemperate suffer from a high rate of mortality, and the
extremely profligate leave few offspring. The poorest classes crowd
into towns, and it has been proved by Dr. Stark from the statistics of
ten years in Scotland (21. ‘Tenth Annual Report of Births, Deaths,
etc., in Scotland,’ 1867, p. xxix.), that at all ages the death-rate is
higher in towns than in rural districts, “and during the first five
years of life the town death-rate is almost exactly double that of the
rural districts.” As these returns include both the rich and the poor,
no doubt more than twice the number of births would be requisite to
keep up the number of the very poor inhabitants in the towns,
relatively to those in the country. With women, marriage at too early
an age is highly injurious; for it has been found in France that,
“Twice as many wives under twenty die in the year, as died out of the
same number of the unmarried.” The mortality, also, of husbands under
twenty is “excessively high” (22. These quotations are taken from our
highest authority on such questions, namely, Dr. Farr, in his paper ‘On
the Influence of Marriage on the Mortality of the French People,’ read
before the Nat. Assoc. for the Promotion of Social Science, 1858.), but
what the cause of this may be, seems doubtful. Lastly, if the men who
prudently delay marrying until they can bring up their families in
comfort, were to select, as they often do, women in the prime of life,
the rate of increase in the better class would be only slightly
lessened.
It was established from an enormous body of statistics, taken during
1853, that the unmarried men throughout France, between the ages of
twenty and eighty, die in a much larger proportion than the married:
for instance, out of every 1000 unmarried men, between the ages of
twenty and thirty, 11.3 annually died, whilst of the married, only 6.5
died. (23. Dr. Farr, ibid. The quotations given below are extracted
from the same striking paper.) A similar law was proved to hold good,
during the years 1863 and 1864, with the entire population above the
age of twenty in Scotland: for instance, out of every 1000 unmarried
men, between the ages of twenty and thirty, 14.97 annually died, whilst
of the married only 7.24 died, that is less than half. (24. I have
taken the mean of the quinquennial means, given in ‘The Tenth Annual
Report of Births, Deaths, etc., in Scotland,’ 1867. The quotation from
Dr. Stark is copied from an article in the ‘Daily News,’ Oct. 17, 1868,
which Dr. Farr considers very carefully written.) Dr. Stark remarks on
this, “Bachelorhood is more destructive to life than the most
unwholesome trades, or than residence in an unwholesome house or
district where there has never been the most distant attempt at
sanitary improvement.” He considers that the lessened mortality is the
direct result of “marriage, and the more regular domestic habits which
attend that state.” He admits, however, that the intemperate,
profligate, and criminal classes, whose duration of life is low, do not
commonly marry; and it must likewise be admitted that men with a weak
constitution, ill health, or any great infirmity in body or mind, will
often not wish to marry, or will be rejected. Dr. Stark seems to have
come to the conclusion that marriage in itself is a main cause of
prolonged life, from finding that aged married men still have a
considerable advantage in this respect over the unmarried of the same
advanced age; but every one must have known instances of men, who with
weak health during youth did not marry, and yet have survived to old
age, though remaining weak, and therefore always with a lessened chance
of life or of marrying. There is another remarkable circumstance which
seems to support Dr. Stark’s conclusion, namely, that widows and
widowers in France suffer in comparison with the married a very heavy
rate of mortality; but Dr. Farr attributes this to the poverty and evil
habits consequent on the disruption of the family, and to grief. On the
whole we may conclude with Dr. Farr that the lesser mortality of
married than of unmarried men, which seems to be a general law, “is
mainly due to the constant elimination of imperfect types, and to the
skilful selection of the finest individuals out of each successive
generation;” the selection relating only to the marriage state, and
acting on all corporeal, intellectual, and moral qualities. (25. Dr.
Duncan remarks (‘Fecundity, Fertility, etc.’ 1871, p. 334) on this
subject: “At every age the healthy and beautiful go over from the
unmarried side to the married, leaving the unmarried columns crowded
with the sickly and unfortunate.”) We may, therefore, infer that sound
and good men who out of prudence remain for a time unmarried, do not
suffer a high rate of mortality.
If the various checks specified in the two last paragraphs, and perhaps
others as yet unknown, do not prevent the reckless, the vicious and
otherwise inferior members of society from increasing at a quicker rate
than the better class of men, the nation will retrograde, as has too
often occurred in the history of the world. We must remember that
progress is no invariable rule. It is very difficult to say why one
civilised 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 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 vigour of body leads to vigour 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 (26. See the
ingenious and original argument on this subject by Mr. Galton,
‘Hereditary Genius,’ pp. 340-342.), 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 towards continued development in mind and
body. But development of all kinds depends on many concurrent
favourable 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.” (27.
Mr. Greg, ‘Fraser’s Magazine,’ Sept. 1868, p. 357.) The western nations
of Europe, who now so immeasurably surpass their former savage
progenitors, and stand at the summit of civilisation, 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.
Who can positively say why the Spanish nation, so dominant at one time,
has been distanced in the race. The awakening of the nations of Europe
from the dark ages is a still more perplexing problem. At that early
period, as Mr. Galton has remarked, almost all the men of a gentle
nature, those given to meditation or culture of the mind, had no refuge
except in the bosom of a Church which demanded celibacy (28.
‘Hereditary Genius,’ 1870, pp. 357-359. The Rev. F.W. Farrar (‘Fraser’s
Magazine,’ Aug. 1870, p. 257) advances arguments on the other side. Sir
C. Lyell had already (‘Principles of Geology,’ vol. ii. 1868, p. 489),
in a striking passage called attention to the evil influence of the
Holy Inquisition in having, through selection, lowered the general
standard of intelligence in Europe.); and this could hardly fail to
have had a deteriorating influence on each successive generation.
During this same period the Holy Inquisition selected with extreme care
the freest and boldest men in order to burn or imprison them. In Spain
alone some of the best men—those who doubted and questioned, and
without doubting there can be no progress—were eliminated during three
centuries at the rate of a thousand a year. The evil which the Catholic
Church has thus effected is incalculable, though no doubt
counterbalanced to a certain, perhaps to a large, extent in other ways;
nevertheless, Europe has progressed at an unparalleled rate.
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, are the results 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. (29. Mr. Galton, ‘Macmillan’s
Magazine,’ August 1865, p. 325. See also, ‘Nature,’ ‘On Darwinism and
National Life,’ Dec. 1869, p. 184.) Looking to the distant future, I do
not think that the Rev. Mr. Zincke takes an exaggerated view when he
says (30. ‘Last Winter in the United States,’ 1868, p. 29.): “All other
series of events—as that which resulted in the culture of mind in
Greece, and that which resulted in the empire of Rome—only appear to
have purpose and value when viewed in connection with, or rather as
subsidiary to...the great stream of Anglo-Saxon emigration to the
west.” Obscure as is the problem of the advance of civilisation, we can
at least see that a nation which produced during a lengthened period
the greatest number of highly intellectual, energetic, brave,
patriotic, and benevolent men, would generally prevail over less
favoured nations.
Natural selection follows from the struggle for existence; and this
from a rapid rate of increase. It is impossible not to regret bitterly,
but whether wisely is another question, the rate at which man tends to
increase; for this leads in barbarous tribes to infanticide and many
other evils, and in civilised nations to abject poverty, celibacy, and
to the late marriages of the prudent. But as man suffers from the same
physical evils as the lower animals, he has no right to expect an
immunity from the evils consequent on the struggle for existence. Had
he not been subjected during primeval times to natural selection,
assuredly he would never have attained to his present rank. Since we
see in many parts of the world enormous areas of the most fertile land
capable of supporting numerous happy homes, but peopled only by a few
wandering savages, it might be argued that the struggle for existence
had not been sufficiently severe to force man upwards to his highest
standard. Judging from all that we know of man and the lower animals,
there has always been sufficient variability in their intellectual and
moral faculties, for a steady advance through natural selection. No
doubt such advance demands many favourable concurrent circumstances;
but it may well be doubted whether the most favourable would have
sufficed, had not the rate of increase been rapid, and the consequent
struggle for existence extremely severe. It even appears from what we
see, for instance, in parts of S. America, that a people which may be
called civilised, such as the Spanish settlers, is liable to become
indolent and to retrograde, when the conditions of life are very easy.
With highly civilised nations continued progress depends in a
subordinate degree on natural selection; for such nations do not
supplant and exterminate one another as do savage tribes. Nevertheless
the more intelligent members within the same community will succeed
better in the long run than the inferior, and leave a more numerous
progeny, and this is a form of natural selection. The more efficient
causes of progress seem to consist of a good education during youth
whilst the brain is impressible, and of a high standard of excellence,
inculcated by the ablest and best men, embodied in the laws, customs
and traditions of the nation, and enforced by public opinion. It
should, however, be borne in mind, that the enforcement of public
opinion depends on our appreciation of the approbation and
disapprobation of others; and this appreciation is founded on our
sympathy, which it can hardly be doubted was originally developed
through natural selection as one of the most important elements of the
social instincts. (31. I am much indebted to Mr. John Morley for some
good criticisms on this subject: see, also Broca, ‘Les Selections,’
‘Revue d’Anthropologie,’ 1872.)
ON THE EVIDENCE THAT ALL CIVILISED NATIONS WERE ONCE BARBAROUS.
The present subject has been treated in so full and admirable a manner
by Sir J. Lubbock (32. ‘On the Origin of Civilisation,’ ‘Proceedings of
the Ethnological Society,’ Nov. 26, 1867.), Mr. Tylor, Mr. M’Lennan,
and others, that I need here give only the briefest summary of their
results. The arguments recently advanced by the Duke of Argyll (33.
‘Primeval Man,’ 1869.) and formerly by Archbishop Whately, in favour of
the belief that man came into the world as a civilised being, and that
all savages have since undergone degradation, seem to me weak in
comparison with those advanced on the other side. Many nations, no
doubt, have fallen away in civilisation, and some may have lapsed into
utter barbarism, though on this latter head I have met with no
evidence. The Fuegians were probably compelled by other conquering
hordes to settle in their inhospitable country, and they may have
become in consequence somewhat more degraded; but it would be difficult
to prove that they have fallen much below the Botocudos, who inhabit
the finest parts of Brazil.
The evidence that all civilised 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 civilisation, and have
actually thus risen. The evidence on the first head is extremely
curious, but cannot be here given: I refer to such cases as that of the
art of enumeration, which, as Mr. Tylor clearly shews 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 three-score
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.” (34. ‘Royal Institution of Great Britain,’ March 15, 1867.
Also, ‘Researches into the Early History of Mankind,’ 1865.) 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. M’Lennan’s work (35. ‘Primitive Marriage,’
1865. See, likewise, an excellent article, evidently by the same
author, in the ‘North British Review,’ July 1869. Also, Mr. L.H.
Morgan, ‘A Conjectural Solution of the Origin of the Class. System of
Relationship,’ in ‘Proc. American Acad. of Sciences,’ vol. vii. Feb.
1868. Prof. Schaaffhausen (‘Anthropolog. Review,’ Oct. 1869, p. 373)
remarks on “the vestiges of human sacrifices found both in Homer and
the Old Testament.”) and not admit that almost all civilised 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 shewn 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 shewn 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 amongst savages in various parts of the world,
it cannot be doubted that these have nearly all been independent
discoveries, excepting perhaps the art of making fire. (36. Sir J.
Lubbock, ‘Prehistoric Times,’ 2nd edit. 1869, chaps. xv. and xvi. et
passim. See also the excellent 9th Chapter in Tylor’s ‘Early History of
Mankind,’ 2nd edit., 1870.) 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 (37. Dr. F. Müller has made some good remarks to this effect in
the ‘Reise der Novara: Anthropolog. Theil,’ Abtheil. iii. 1868, s.
127.); 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-civilised 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
civilised world, were once in a barbarous condition. To believe that
man was aboriginally civilised 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.
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE AFFINITIES AND GENEALOGY OF MAN.
Position of man in the animal series—The natural system
genealogical—Adaptive characters of slight value—Various small points
of resemblance between man and the Quadrumana—Rank of man in the
natural system—Birthplace and antiquity of man—Absence of fossil
connecting links—Lower stages in the genealogy of man, as inferred,
firstly from his affinities and secondly from his structure—Early
androgynous condition of the Vertebrata—Conclusion.
Even if it be granted that the difference between man and his nearest
allies is as great in corporeal structure as some naturalists maintain,
and although we must grant that the difference between them is immense
in mental power, yet the facts given in the earlier chapters appear to
declare, in the plainest manner, that man is descended from some lower
form, notwithstanding that connecting-links have not hitherto been
discovered.
Man is liable to numerous, slight, and diversified variations, which
are induced by the same general causes, are governed and transmitted in
accordance with the same general laws, as in the lower animals. Man has
multiplied so rapidly, that he has necessarily been exposed to struggle
for existence, and consequently to natural selection. He has given rise
to many races, some of which differ so much from each other, that they
have often been ranked by naturalists as distinct species. His body is
constructed on the same homological plan as that of other mammals. He
passes through the same phases of embryological development. He retains
many rudimentary and useless structures, which no doubt were once
serviceable. Characters occasionally make their re-appearance in him,
which we have reason to believe were possessed by his early
progenitors. If the origin of man had been wholly different from that
of all other animals, these various appearances would be mere empty
deceptions; but such an admission is incredible. These appearances, on
the other hand, are intelligible, at least to a large extent, if man is
the co-descendant with other mammals of some unknown and lower form.
Some naturalists, from being deeply impressed with the mental and
spiritual powers of man, have divided the whole organic world into
three kingdoms, the Human, the Animal, and the Vegetable, thus giving
to man a separate kingdom. (1. Isidore Geoffroy St.-Hilaire gives a
detailed account of the position assigned to man by various naturalists
in their classifications: ‘Hist. Nat. Gen.’ tom. ii. 1859, pp.
170-189.) Spiritual powers cannot be compared or classed by the
naturalist: but he may endeavour to shew, as I have done, that the
mental faculties of man and the lower animals do not differ in kind,
although immensely in degree. A difference in degree, however great,
does not justify us in placing man in a distinct kingdom, as will
perhaps be best illustrated by comparing the mental powers of two
insects, namely, a coccus or scale-insect and an ant, which undoubtedly
belong to the same class. The difference is here greater than, though
of a somewhat different kind from, that between man and the highest
mammal. The female coccus, whilst young, attaches itself by its
proboscis to a plant; sucks the sap, but never moves again; is
fertilised and lays eggs; and this is its whole history. On the other
hand, to describe the habits and mental powers of worker-ants, would
require, as Pierre Huber has shewn, a large volume; I may, however,
briefly specify a few points. Ants certainly communicate information to
each other, and several unite for the same work, or for games of play.
They recognise their fellow-ants after months of absence, and feel
sympathy for each other. They build great edifices, keep them clean,
close the doors in the evening, and post sentries. They make roads as
well as tunnels under rivers, and temporary bridges over them, by
clinging together. They collect food for the community, and when an
object, too large for entrance, is brought to the nest, they enlarge
the door, and afterwards build it up again. They store up seeds, of
which they prevent the germination, and which, if damp, are brought up
to the surface to dry. They keep aphides and other insects as
milch-cows. They go out to battle in regular bands, and freely
sacrifice their lives for the common weal. They emigrate according to a
preconcerted plan. They capture slaves. They move the eggs of their
aphides, as well as their own eggs and cocoons, into warm parts of the
nest, in order that they may be quickly hatched; and endless similar
facts could be given. (2. Some of the most interesting facts ever
published on the habits of ants are given by Mr. Belt, in his
‘Naturalist in Nicaragua,’ 1874. See also Mr. Moggridge’s admirable
work, ‘Harvesting Ants,’ etc., 1873, also ‘L’Instinct chez les
Insectes,’ by M. George Pouchet, ‘Revue des Deux Mondes,’ Feb. 1870, p.
682.) On the whole, the difference in mental power between an ant and a
coccus is immense; yet no one has ever dreamed of placing these insects
in distinct classes, much less in distinct kingdoms. No doubt the
difference is bridged over by other insects; and this is not the case
with man and the higher apes. But we have every reason to believe that
the breaks in the series are simply the results of many forms having
become extinct.
Professor Owen, relying chiefly on the structure of the brain, has
divided the mammalian series into four sub-classes. One of these he
devotes to man; in another he places both the marsupials and the
Monotremata; so that he makes man as distinct from all other mammals as
are these two latter groups conjoined. This view has not been accepted,
as far as I am aware, by any naturalist capable of forming an
independent judgment, and therefore need not here be further
considered.
We can understand why a classification founded on any single character
or organ—even an organ so wonderfully complex and important as the
brain—or on the high development of the mental faculties, is almost
sure to prove unsatisfactory. This principle has indeed been tried with
hymenopterous insects; but when thus classed by their habits or
instincts, the arrangement proved thoroughly artificial. (3. Westwood,
‘Modern Classification of Insects,’ vol. ii. 1840, p. 87.)
Classifications may, of course, be based on any character whatever, as
on size, colour, or the element inhabited; but naturalists have long
felt a profound conviction that there is a natural system. This system,
it is now generally admitted, must be, as far as possible, genealogical
in arrangement,—that is, the co-descendants of the same form must be
kept together in one group, apart from the co-descendants of any other
form; but if the parent-forms are related, so will be their
descendants, and the two groups together will form a larger group. The
amount of difference between the several groups—that is the amount of
modification which each has undergone—is expressed by such terms as
genera, families, orders, and classes. As we have no record of the
lines of descent, the pedigree can be discovered only by observing the
degrees of resemblance between the beings which are to be classed. For
this object numerous points of resemblance are of much more importance
than the amount of similarity or dissimilarity in a few points. If two
languages were found to resemble each other in a multitude of words and
points of construction, they would be universally recognised as having
sprung from a common source, notwithstanding that they differed greatly
in some few words or points of construction. But with organic beings
the points of resemblance must not consist of adaptations to similar
habits of life: two animals may, for instance, have had their whole
frames modified for living in the water, and yet they will not be
brought any nearer to each other in the natural system. Hence we can
see how it is that resemblances in several unimportant structures, in
useless and rudimentary organs, or not now functionally active, or in
an embryological condition, are by far the most serviceable for
classification; for they can hardly be due to adaptations within a late
period; and thus they reveal the old lines of descent or of true
affinity.
We can further see why a great amount of modification in some one
character ought not to lead us to separate widely any two organisms. A
part which already differs much from the same part in other allied
forms has already, according to the theory of evolution, varied much;
consequently it would (as long as the organism remained exposed to the
same exciting conditions) be liable to further variations of the same
kind; and these, if beneficial, would be preserved, and thus be
continually augmented. In many cases the continued development of a
part, for instance, of the beak of a bird, or of the teeth of a mammal,
would not aid the species in gaining its food, or for any other object;
but with man we can see no definite limit to the continued development
of the brain and mental faculties, as far as advantage is concerned.
Therefore in determining the position of man in the natural or
genealogical system, the extreme development of his brain ought not to
outweigh a multitude of resemblances in other less important or quite
unimportant points.
The greater number of naturalists who have taken into consideration the
whole structure of man, including his mental faculties, have followed
Blumenbach and Cuvier, and have placed man in a separate Order, under
the title of the Bimana, and therefore on an equality with the orders
of the Quadrumana, Carnivora, etc. Recently many of our best
naturalists have recurred to the view first propounded by Linnaeus, so
remarkable for his sagacity, and have placed man in the same Order with
the Quadrumana, under the title of the Primates. The justice of this
conclusion will be admitted: for in the first place, we must bear in
mind the comparative insignificance for classification of the great
development of the brain in man, and that the strongly-marked
differences between the skulls of man and the Quadrumana (lately
insisted upon by Bischoff, Aeby, and others) apparently follow from
their differently developed brains. In the second place, we must
remember that nearly all the other and more important differences
between man and the Quadrumana are manifestly adaptive in their nature,
and relate chiefly to the erect position of man; such as the structure
of his hand, foot, and pelvis, the curvature of his spine, and the
position of his head. The family of Seals offers a good illustration of
the small importance of adaptive characters for classification. These
animals differ from all other Carnivora in the form of their bodies and
in the structure of their limbs, far more than does man from the higher
apes; yet in most systems, from that of Cuvier to the most recent one
by Mr. Flower (4. ‘Proceedings Zoological Society,’ 1863, p. 4.), seals
are ranked as a mere family in the Order of the Carnivora. If man had
not been his own classifier, he would never have thought of founding a
separate order for his own reception.
It would be beyond my limits, and quite beyond my knowledge, even to
name the innumerable points of structure in which man agrees with the
other Primates. Our great anatomist and philosopher, Prof. Huxley, has
fully discussed this subject (5. ‘Evidence as to Man’s Place in
Nature,’ 1863, p. 70, et passim.), and concludes that man in all parts
of his organization differs less from the higher apes, than these do
from the lower members of the same group. Consequently there “is no
justification for placing man in a distinct order.”
In an early part of this work I brought forward various facts, shewing
how closely man agrees in constitution with the higher mammals; and
this agreement must depend on our close similarity in minute structure
and chemical composition. I gave, as instances, our liability to the
same diseases, and to the attacks of allied parasites; our tastes in
common for the same stimulants, and the similar effects produced by
them, as well as by various drugs, and other such facts.
As small unimportant points of resemblance between man and the
Quadrumana are not commonly noticed in systematic works, and as, when
numerous, they clearly reveal our relationship, I will specify a few
such points. The relative position of our features is manifestly the
same; and the various emotions are displayed by nearly similar
movements of the muscles and skin, chiefly above the eyebrows and round
the mouth. Some few expressions are, indeed, almost the same, as in the
weeping of certain kinds of monkeys and in the laughing noise made by
others, during which the corners of the mouth are drawn backwards, and
the lower eyelids wrinkled. The external ears are curiously alike. In
man the nose is much more prominent than in most monkeys; but we may
trace the commencement of an aquiline curvature in the nose of the
Hoolock Gibbon; and this in the Semnopithecus nasica is carried to a
ridiculous extreme.
The faces of many monkeys are ornamented with beards, whiskers, or
moustaches. The hair on the head grows to a great length in some
species of Semnopithecus (6. Isidore Geoffroy St.-Hilaire, ‘Hist. Nat.
Gen.’ tom. ii. 1859, p. 217.); and in the Bonnet monkey (Macacus
radiatus) it radiates from a point on the crown, with a parting down
the middle. It is commonly said that the forehead gives to man his
noble and intellectual appearance; but the thick hair on the head of
the Bonnet monkey terminates downwards abruptly, and is succeeded by
hair so short and fine that at a little distance the forehead, with the
exception of the eyebrows, appears quite naked. It has been erroneously
asserted that eyebrows are not present in any monkey. In the species
just named the degree of nakedness of the forehead differs in different
individuals; and Eschricht states (7. ‘Über die Richtung der Haare,’
etc., Müller’s ‘Archiv fur Anat. und Phys.’ 1837, s. 51.) that in our
children the limit between the hairy scalp and the naked forehead is
sometimes not well defined; so that here we seem to have a trifling
case of reversion to a progenitor, in whom the forehead had not as yet
become quite naked.
It is well known that the hair on our arms tends to converge from above
and below to a point at the elbow. This curious arrangement, so unlike
that in most of the lower mammals, is common to the gorilla,
chimpanzee, orang, some species of Hylobates, and even to some few
American monkeys. But in Hylobates agilis the hair on the fore-arm is
directed downwards or towards the wrist in the ordinary manner; and in
H. lar it is nearly erect, with only a very slight forward inclination;
so that in this latter species it is in a transitional state. It can
hardly be doubted that with most mammals the thickness of the hair on
the back and its direction, is adapted to throw off the rain; even the
transverse hairs on the fore-legs of a dog may serve for this end when
he is coiled up asleep. Mr. Wallace, who has carefully studied the
habits of the orang, remarks that the convergence of the hair towards
the elbow on the arms of the orang may be explained as serving to throw
off the rain, for this animal during rainy weather sits with its arms
bent, and with the hands clasped round a branch or over its head.
According to Livingstone, the gorilla also “sits in pelting rain with
his hands over his head.” (8. Quoted by Reade, ‘The African Sketch
Book,’ vol i. 1873, p. 152.) If the above explanation is correct, as
seems probable, the direction of the hair on our own arms offers a
curious record of our former state; for no one supposes that it is now
of any use in throwing off the rain; nor, in our present erect
condition, is it properly directed for this purpose.
It would, however, be rash to trust too much to the principle of
adaptation in regard to the direction of the hair in man or his early
progenitors; for it is impossible to study the figures given by
Eschricht of the arrangement of the hair on the human foetus (this
being the same as in the adult) and not agree with this excellent
observer that other and more complex causes have intervened. The points
of convergence seem to stand in some relation to those points in the
embryo which are last closed in during development. There appears,
also, to exist some relation between the arrangement of the hair on the
limbs, and the course of the medullary arteries. (9. On the hair in
Hylobates, see ‘Natural History of Mammals,’ by C.L. Martin, 1841, p.
415. Also, Isidore Geoffroy on the American monkeys and other kinds,
‘Hist. Nat. Gen.’ vol. ii. 1859, pp. 216, 243. Eschricht, ibid. s. 46,
55, 61. Owen, ‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. p. 619. Wallace,
‘Contributions to the Theory of Natural Selection,’ 1870, p. 344.)
It must not be supposed that the resemblances between man and certain
apes in the above and in many other points—such as in having a naked
forehead, long tresses on the head, etc.,—are all necessarily the
result of unbroken inheritance from a common progenitor, or of
subsequent reversion. Many of these resemblances are more probably due
to analogous variation, which follows, as I have elsewhere attempted to
shew (10. ‘Origin of Species,’ 5th edit. 1869, p.194. ‘The Variation of
Animals and Plants under Domestication,’ vol. ii. 1868, p. 348.), from
co-descended organisms having a similar constitution, and having been
acted on by like causes inducing similar modifications. With respect to
the similar direction of the hair on the fore-arms of man and certain
monkeys, as this character is common to almost all the anthropomorphous
apes, it may probably be attributed to inheritance; but this is not
certain, as some very distinct American monkeys are thus characterised.
Although, as we have now seen, man has no just right to form a separate
Order for his own reception, he may perhaps claim a distinct Sub-order
or Family. Prof. Huxley, in his last work (11. ‘An Introduction to the
Classification of Animals,’ 1869, p. 99.), divides the primates into
three Sub-orders; namely, the Anthropidae with man alone, the Simiadae
including monkeys of all kinds, and the Lemuridae with the diversified
genera of lemurs. As far as differences in certain important points of
structure are concerned, man may no doubt rightly claim the rank of a
Sub-order; and this rank is too low, if we look chiefly to his mental
faculties. Nevertheless, from a genealogical point of view it appears
that this rank is too high, and that man ought to form merely a Family,
or possibly even only a Sub-family. If we imagine three lines of
descent proceeding from a common stock, it is quite conceivable that
two of them might after the lapse of ages be so slightly changed as
still to remain as species of the same genus, whilst the third line
might become so greatly modified as to deserve to rank as a distinct
Sub-family, Family, or even Order. But in this case it is almost
certain that the third line would still retain through inheritance
numerous small points of resemblance with the other two. Here, then,
would occur the difficulty, at present insoluble, how much weight we
ought to assign in our classifications to strongly-marked differences
in some few points,—that is, to the amount of modification undergone;
and how much to close resemblance in numerous unimportant points, as
indicating the lines of descent or genealogy. To attach much weight to
the few but strong differences is the most obvious and perhaps the
safest course, though it appears more correct to pay great attention to
the many small resemblances, as giving a truly natural classification.
In forming a judgment on this head with reference to man, we must
glance at the classification of the Simiadae. This family is divided by
almost all naturalists into the Catarrhine group, or Old World monkeys,
all of which are characterised (as their name expresses) by the
peculiar structure of their nostrils, and by having four premolars in
each jaw; and into the Platyrrhine group or New World monkeys
(including two very distinct sub-groups), all of which are
characterised by differently constructed nostrils, and by having six
premolars in each jaw. Some other small differences might be mentioned.
Now man unquestionably belongs in his dentition, in the structure of
his nostrils, and some other respects, to the Catarrhine or Old World
division; nor does he resemble the Platyrrhines more closely than the
Catarrhines in any characters, excepting in a few of not much
importance and apparently of an adaptive nature. It is therefore
against all probability that some New World species should have
formerly varied and produced a man-like creature, with all the
distinctive characters proper to the Old World division; losing at the
same time all its own distinctive characters. There can, consequently,
hardly be a doubt that man is an off-shoot from the Old World Simian
stem; and that under a genealogical point of view he must be classed
with the Catarrhine division. (12. This is nearly the same
classification as that provisionally adopted by Mr. St. George Mivart,
(‘Transactions, Philosophical Society,” 1867, p. 300), who, after
separating the Lemuridae, divides the remainder of the Primates into
the Hominidae, the Simiadae which answer to the Catarrhines, the
Cebidae, and the Hapalidae,—these two latter groups answering to the
Platyrrhines. Mr. Mivart still abides by the same view; see ‘Nature,’
1871, p. 481.)
The anthropomorphous apes, namely the gorilla, chimpanzee, orang, and
hylobates, are by most naturalists separated from the other Old World
monkeys, as a distinct sub-group. I am aware that Gratiolet, relying on
the structure of the brain, does not admit the existence of this
sub-group, and no doubt it is a broken one. Thus the orang, as Mr. St.
G. Mivart remarks, “is one of the most peculiar and aberrant forms to
be found in the Order.” (13. ‘Transactions, Zoolog. Soc.’ vol. vi.
1867, p. 214.) The remaining non-anthropomorphous Old World monkeys,
are again divided by some naturalists into two or three smaller
sub-groups; the genus Semnopithecus, with its peculiar sacculated
stomach, being the type of one sub-group. But it appears from M.
Gaudry’s wonderful discoveries in Attica, that during the Miocene
period a form existed there, which connected Semnopithecus and Macacus;
and this probably illustrates the manner in which the other and higher
groups were once blended together.
If the anthropomorphous apes be admitted to form a natural sub-group,
then as man agrees with them, not only in all those characters which he
possesses in common with the whole Catarrhine group, but in other
peculiar characters, such as the absence of a tail and of callosities,
and in general appearance, we may infer that some ancient member of the
anthropomorphous sub-group gave birth to man. It is not probable that,
through the law of analogous variation, a member of one of the other
lower sub-groups should have given rise to a man-like creature,
resembling the higher anthropomorphous apes in so many respects. No
doubt man, in comparison with most of his allies, has undergone an
extraordinary amount of modification, chiefly in consequence of the
great development of his brain and his erect position; nevertheless, we
should bear in mind that he “is but one of several exceptional forms of
Primates.” (14. Mr. St. G. Mivart, ‘Transactions of the Philosophical
Society,’ 1867, p. 410.)
Every naturalist, who believes in the principle of evolution, will
grant that the two main divisions of the Simiadae, namely the
Catarrhine and Platyrrhine monkeys, with their sub-groups, have all
proceeded from some one extremely ancient progenitor. The early
descendants of this progenitor, before they had diverged to any
considerable extent from each other, would still have formed a single
natural group; but some of the species or incipient genera would have
already begun to indicate by their diverging characters the future
distinctive marks of the Catarrhine and Platyrrhine divisions. Hence
the members of this supposed ancient group would not have been so
uniform in their dentition, or in the structure of their nostrils, as
are the existing Catarrhine monkeys in one way and the Platyrrhines in
another way, but would have resembled in this respect the allied
Lemuridae, which differ greatly from each other in the form of their
muzzles (15. Messrs. Murie and Mivart on the Lemuroidea, ‘Transactions,
Zoological Society,’ vol. vii, 1869, p. 5.), and to an extraordinary
degree in their dentition.
The Catarrhine and Platyrrhine monkeys agree in a multitude of
characters, as is shewn by their unquestionably belonging to one and
the same Order. The many characters which they possess in common can
hardly have been independently acquired by so many distinct species; so
that these characters must have been inherited. But a naturalist would
undoubtedly have ranked as an ape or a monkey, an ancient form which
possessed many characters common to the Catarrhine and Platyrrhine
monkeys, other characters in an intermediate condition, and some few,
perhaps, distinct from those now found in either group. And as man from
a genealogical point of view belongs to the Catarrhine or Old World
stock, we must conclude, however much the conclusion may revolt our
pride, that our early progenitors would have been properly thus
designated. (16. Haeckel has come to this same conclusion. See ‘Über
die Entstehung des Menschengeschlechts,’ in Virchow’s ‘Sammlung.
gemein. wissen. Vorträge,’ 1868, s. 61. Also his ‘Natürliche
Schöpfungsgeschichte,’ 1868, in which he gives in detail his views on
the genealogy of man.) But we must not fall into the error of supposing
that the early progenitor of the whole Simian stock, including man, was
identical with, or even closely resembled, any existing ape or monkey.
ON THE BIRTHPLACE AND ANTIQUITY OF MAN.
We are naturally led to enquire, where was the birthplace of man at
that stage of descent when our progenitors diverged from the Catarrhine
stock? The fact that they belonged to this stock clearly shews that
they inhabited the Old World; but not Australia nor any oceanic island,
as we may infer from the laws of geographical distribution. In each
great region of the world the living mammals are closely related to the
extinct species of the same region. It is therefore probable that
Africa was formerly inhabited by extinct apes closely allied to the
gorilla and chimpanzee; and as these two species are now man’s nearest
allies, it is somewhat more probable that our early progenitors lived
on the African continent than elsewhere. But it is useless to speculate
on this subject; for two or three anthropomorphous apes, one the
Dryopithecus (17. Dr. C. Forsyth Major, ‘Sur les Singes fossiles
trouvés en Italie:’ ‘Soc. Ital. des Sc. Nat.’ tom. xv. 1872.) of
Lartet, nearly as large as a man, and closely allied to Hylobates,
existed in Europe during the Miocene age; and since so remote a period
the earth has certainly undergone many great revolutions, and there has
been ample time for migration on the largest scale.
At the period and place, whenever and wherever it was, when man first
lost his hairy covering, he probably inhabited a hot country; a
circumstance favourable for the frugiferous diet on which, judging from
analogy, he subsisted. We are far from knowing how long ago it was when
man first diverged from the Catarrhine stock; but it may have occurred
at an epoch as remote as the Eocene period; for that the higher apes
had diverged from the lower apes as early as the Upper Miocene period
is shewn by the existence of the Dryopithecus. We are also quite
ignorant at how rapid a rate organisms, whether high or low in the
scale, may be modified under favourable circumstances; we know,
however, that some have retained the same form during an enormous lapse
of time. From what we see going on under domestication, we learn that
some of the co-descendants of the same species may be not at all, some
a little, and some greatly changed, all within the same period. Thus it
may have been with man, who has undergone a great amount of
modification in certain characters in comparison with the higher apes.
The great break in the organic chain between man and his nearest
allies, which cannot be bridged over by any extinct or living species,
has often been advanced as a grave objection to the belief that man is
descended from some lower form; but this objection will not appear of
much weight to those who, from general reasons, believe in the general
principle of evolution. Breaks often occur in all parts of the series,
some being wide, sharp and defined, others less so in various degrees;
as between the orang and its nearest allies—between the Tarsius and the
other Lemuridae—between the elephant, and in a more striking manner
between the Ornithorhynchus or Echidna, and all other mammals. But
these breaks depend merely on the number of related forms which have
become extinct. At some future period, not very distant as measured by
centuries, the civilised races of man will almost certainly
exterminate, and replace, the savage races throughout the world. At the
same time the anthropomorphous apes, as Professor Schaaffhausen has
remarked (18. ‘Anthropological Review,’ April 1867, p. 236.), will no
doubt be exterminated. The break between man and his nearest allies
will then be wider, for it will intervene between man in a more
civilised state, as we may hope, even than the Caucasian, and some ape
as low as a baboon, instead of as now between the negro or Australian
and the gorilla.
With respect to the absence of fossil remains, serving to connect man
with his ape-like progenitors, no one will lay much stress on this fact
who reads Sir C. Lyell’s discussion (19. ‘Elements of Geology,’ 1865,
pp. 583-585. ‘Antiquity of Man,’ 1863, p. 145.), where he shews that in
all the vertebrate classes the discovery of fossil remains has been a
very slow and fortuitous process. Nor should it be forgotten that those
regions which are the most likely to afford remains connecting man with
some extinct ape-like creature, have not as yet been searched by
geologists.
LOWER STAGES IN THE GENEALOGY OF MAN.
We have seen that man appears to have diverged from the Catarrhine or
Old World division of the Simiadae, after these had diverged from the
New World division. We will now endeavour to follow the remote traces
of his genealogy, trusting principally to the mutual affinities between
the various classes and orders, with some slight reference to the
periods, as far as ascertained, of their successive appearance on the
earth. The Lemuridae stand below and near to the Simiadae, and
constitute a very distinct family of the primates, or, according to
Haeckel and others, a distinct Order. This group is diversified and
broken to an extraordinary degree, and includes many aberrant forms. It
has, therefore, probably suffered much extinction. Most of the remnants
survive on islands, such as Madagascar and the Malayan archipelago,
where they have not been exposed to so severe a competition as they
would have been on well-stocked continents. This group likewise
presents many gradations, leading, as Huxley remarks (20. ‘Man’s Place
in Nature,’ p. 105.), “insensibly from the crown and summit of the
animal creation down to creatures from which there is but a step, as it
seems, to the lowest, smallest, and least intelligent of the placental
mammalia.” From these various considerations it is probable that the
Simiadae were originally developed from the progenitors of the existing
Lemuridae; and these in their turn from forms standing very low in the
mammalian series.
The Marsupials stand in many important characters below the placental
mammals. They appeared at an earlier geological period, and their range
was formerly much more extensive than at present. Hence the Placentata
are generally supposed to have been derived from the Implacentata or
Marsupials; not, however, from forms closely resembling the existing
Marsupials, but from their early progenitors. The Monotremata are
plainly allied to the Marsupials, forming a third and still lower
division in the great mammalian series. They are represented at the
present day solely by the Ornithorhynchus and Echidna; and these two
forms may be safely considered as relics of a much larger group,
representatives of which have been preserved in Australia through some
favourable concurrence of circumstances. The Monotremata are eminently
interesting, as leading in several important points of structure
towards the class of reptiles.
In attempting to trace the genealogy of the Mammalia, and therefore of
man, lower down in the series, we become involved in greater and
greater obscurity; but as a most capable judge, Mr. Parker, has
remarked, we have good reason to believe, that no true bird or reptile
intervenes in the direct line of descent. He who wishes to see what
ingenuity and knowledge can effect, may consult Prof. Haeckel’s works.
(21. Elaborate tables are given in his ‘Generelle Morphologie’ (B. ii.
s. cliii. and s. 425); and with more especial reference to man in his
‘Natürliche Schöpfungsgeschichte,’ 1868. Prof. Huxley, in reviewing
this latter work (‘The Academy,’ 1869, p. 42) says, that he considers
the phylum or lines of descent of the Vertebrata to be admirably
discussed by Haeckel, although he differs on some points. He expresses,
also, his high estimate of the general tenor and spirit of the whole
work.) I will content myself with a few general remarks. Every
evolutionist will admit that the five great vertebrate classes, namely,
mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, and fishes, are descended from
some one prototype; for they have much in common, especially during
their embryonic state. As the class of fishes is the most lowly
organised, and appeared before the others, we may conclude that all the
members of the vertebrate kingdom are derived from some fishlike
animal. The belief that animals so distinct as a monkey, an elephant, a
humming-bird, a snake, a frog, and a fish, etc., could all have sprung
from the same parents, will appear monstrous to those who have not
attended to the recent progress of natural history. For this belief
implies the former existence of links binding closely together all
these forms, now so utterly unlike.
Nevertheless, it is certain that groups of animals have existed, or do
now exist, which serve to connect several of the great vertebrate
classes more or less closely. We have seen that the Ornithorhynchus
graduates towards reptiles; and Prof. Huxley has discovered, and is
confirmed by Mr. Cope and others, that the Dinosaurians are in many
important characters intermediate between certain reptiles and certain
birds—the birds referred to being the ostrich-tribe (itself evidently a
widely-diffused remnant of a larger group) and the Archeopteryx, that
strange Secondary bird, with a long lizard-like tail. Again, according
to Prof. Owen (22. ‘Palaeontology’ 1860, p. 199.), the
Ichthyosaurians—great sea-lizards furnished with paddles—present many
affinities with fishes, or rather, according to Huxley, with
amphibians; a class which, including in its highest division frogs and
toads, is plainly allied to the Ganoid fishes. These latter fishes
swarmed during the earlier geological periods, and were constructed on
what is called a generalised type, that is, they presented diversified
affinities with other groups of organisms. The Lepidosiren is also so
closely allied to amphibians and fishes, that naturalists long disputed
in which of these two classes to rank it; it, and also some few Ganoid
fishes, have been preserved from utter extinction by inhabiting rivers,
which are harbours of refuge, and are related to the great waters of
the ocean in the same way that islands are to continents.
Lastly, one single member of the immense and diversified class of
fishes, namely, the lancelet or amphioxus, is so different from all
other fishes, that Haeckel maintains that it ought to form a distinct
class in the vertebrate kingdom. This fish is remarkable for its
negative characters; it can hardly be said to possess a brain,
vertebral column, or heart, etc.; so that it was classed by the older
naturalists amongst the worms. Many years ago Prof. Goodsir perceived
that the lancelet presented some affinities with the Ascidians, which
are invertebrate, hermaphrodite, marine creatures permanently attached
to a support. They hardly appear like animals, and consist of a simple,
tough, leathery sack, with two small projecting orifices. They belong
to the Mulluscoida of Huxley—a lower division of the great kingdom of
the Mollusca; but they have recently been placed by some naturalists
amongst the Vermes or worms. Their larvae somewhat resemble tadpoles in
shape (23. At the Falkland Islands I had the satisfaction of seeing, in
April, 1833, and therefore some years before any other naturalist, the
locomotive larvae of a compound Ascidian, closely allied to Synoicum,
but apparently generically distinct from it. The tail was about five
times as long as the oblong head, and terminated in a very fine
filament. It was, as sketched by me under a simple microscope, plainly
divided by transverse opaque partitions, which I presume represent the
great cells figured by Kovalevsky. At an early stage of development the
tail was closely coiled round the head of the larva.), and have the
power of swimming freely about. Mr. Kovalevsky (24. ‘Memoires de
l’Acad. des Sciences de St. Petersbourg,’ tom. x. No. 15, 1866.) has
lately observed that the larvae of Ascidians are related to the
Vertebrata, in their manner of development, in the relative position of
the nervous system, and in possessing a structure closely like the
chorda dorsalis of vertebrate animals; and in this he has been since
confirmed by Prof. Kupffer. M. Kovalevsky writes to me from Naples,
that he has now carried these observations yet further, and should his
results be well established, the whole will form a discovery of the
very greatest value. Thus, if we may rely on embryology, ever the
safest guide in classification, it seems that we have at last gained a
clue to the source whence the Vertebrata were derived. (25. But I am
bound to add that some competent judges dispute this conclusion; for
instance, M. Giard, in a series of papers in the ‘Archives de Zoologie
Experimentale,’ for 1872. Nevertheless, this naturalist remarks, p.
281, “L’organisation de la larve ascidienne en dehors de toute
hypothèse et de toute théorie, nous montre comment la nature peut
produire la disposition fondamentale du type vertébré (l’existence
d’une corde dorsale) chez un invertébré par la seule condition vitale
de l’adaptation, et cette simple possibilité du passage supprime
l’abîme entre les deux sous-règnes, encore bien qu’en ignore par où le
passage s’est fait en realité.”) We should then be justified in
believing that at an extremely remote period a group of animals
existed, resembling in many respects the larvae of our present
Ascidians, which diverged into two great branches—the one retrograding
in development and producing the present class of Ascidians, the other
rising to the crown and summit of the animal kingdom by giving birth to
the Vertebrata.
We have thus far endeavoured rudely to trace the genealogy of the
Vertebrata by the aid of their mutual affinities. We will now look to
man as he exists; and we shall, I think, be able partially to restore
the structure of our early progenitors, during successive periods, but
not in due order of time. This can be effected by means of the
rudiments which man still retains, by the characters which occasionally
make their appearance in him through reversion, and by the aid of the
principles of morphology and embryology. The various facts, to which I
shall here allude, have been given in the previous chapters.
The early progenitors of man must have been once covered with hair,
both sexes having beards; their ears were probably pointed, and capable
of movement; and their bodies were provided with a tail, having the
proper muscles. Their limbs and bodies were also acted on by many
muscles which now only occasionally reappear, but are normally present
in the Quadrumana. At this or some earlier period, the great artery and
nerve of the humerus ran through a supra-condyloid foramen. The
intestine gave forth a much larger diverticulum or caecum than that now
existing. The foot was then prehensile, judging from the condition of
the great toe in the foetus; and our progenitors, no doubt, were
arboreal in their habits, and frequented some warm, forest-clad land.
The males had great canine teeth, which served them as formidable
weapons. At a much earlier period the uterus was double; the excreta
were voided through a cloaca; and the eye was protected by a third
eyelid or nictitating membrane. At a still earlier period the
progenitors of man must have been aquatic in their habits; for
morphology plainly tells us that our lungs consist of a modified
swim-bladder, which once served as a float. The clefts on the neck in
the embryo of man shew where the branchiae once existed. In the lunar
or weekly recurrent periods of some of our functions we apparently
still retain traces of our primordial birthplace, a shore washed by the
tides. At about this same early period the true kidneys were replaced
by the corpora wolffiana. The heart existed as a simple pulsating
vessel; and the chorda dorsalis took the place of a vertebral column.
These early ancestors of man, thus seen in the dim recesses of time,
must have been as simply, or even still more simply organised than the
lancelet or amphioxus.
There is one other point deserving a fuller notice. It has long been
known that in the vertebrate kingdom one sex bears rudiments of various
accessory parts, appertaining to the reproductive system, which
properly belong to the opposite sex; and it has now been ascertained
that at a very early embryonic period both sexes possess true male and
female glands. Hence some remote progenitor of the whole vertebrate
kingdom appears to have been hermaphrodite or androgynous. (26. This is
the conclusion of Prof. Gegenbaur, one of the highest authorities in
comparative anatomy: see ‘Grundzüge der vergleich. Anat.’ 1870, s. 876.
The result has been arrived at chiefly from the study of the Amphibia;
but it appears from the researches of Waldeyer (as quoted in ‘Journal
of Anat. and Phys.’ 1869, p. 161), that the sexual organs of even “the
higher vertebrata are, in their early condition, hermaphrodite.”
Similar views have long been held by some authors, though until
recently without a firm basis.) But here we encounter a singular
difficulty. In the mammalian class the males possess rudiments of a
uterus with the adjacent passage, in their vesiculae prostaticae; they
bear also rudiments of mammae, and some male Marsupials have traces of
a marsupial sack. (27. The male Thylacinus offers the best instance.
Owen, ‘Anatomy of Vertebrates,’ vol. iii. p. 771.) Other analogous
facts could be added. Are we, then, to suppose that some extremely
ancient mammal continued androgynous, after it had acquired the chief
distinctions of its class, and therefore after it had diverged from the
lower classes of the vertebrate kingdom? This seems very improbable,
for we have to look to fishes, the lowest of all the classes, to find
any still existent androgynous forms. (28. Hermaphroditism has been
observed in several species of Serranus, as well as in some other
fishes, where it is either normal and symmetrical, or abnormal and
unilateral. Dr. Zouteveen has given me references on this subject, more
especially to a paper by Prof. Halbertsma, in the ‘Transact. of the
Dutch Acad. of Sciences,’ vol. xvi. Dr. Gunther doubts the fact, but it
has now been recorded by too many good observers to be any longer
disputed. Dr. M. Lessona writes to me, that he has verified the
observations made by Cavolini on Serranus. Prof. Ercolani has recently
shewn (‘Accad. delle Scienze,’ Bologna, Dec. 28, 1871) that eels are
androgynous.) That various accessory parts, proper to each sex, are
found in a rudimentary condition in the opposite sex, may be explained
by such organs having been gradually acquired by the one sex, and then
transmitted in a more or less imperfect state to the other. When we
treat of sexual selection, we shall meet with innumerable instances of
this form of transmission,—as in the case of the spurs, plumes, and
brilliant colours, acquired for battle or ornament by male birds, and
inherited by the females in an imperfect or rudimentary condition.
The possession by male mammals of functionally imperfect mammary organs
is, in some respects, especially curious. The Monotremata have the
proper milk-secreting glands with orifices, but no nipples; and as
these animals stand at the very base of the mammalian series, it is
probable that the progenitors of the class also had milk-secreting
glands, but no nipples. This conclusion is supported by what is known
of their manner of development; for Professor Turner informs me, on the
authority of Kolliker and Langer, that in the embryo the mammary glands
can be distinctly traced before the nipples are in the least visible;
and the development of successive parts in the individual generally
represents and accords with the development of successive beings in the
same line of descent. The Marsupials differ from the Monotremata by
possessing nipples; so that probably these organs were first acquired
by the Marsupials, after they had diverged from, and risen above, the
Monotremata, and were then transmitted to the placental mammals. (29.
Prof. Gegenbaur has shewn (‘Jenäische Zeitschrift,’ Bd. vii. p. 212)
that two distinct types of nipples prevail throughout the several
mammalian orders, but that it is quite intelligible how both could have
been derived from the nipples of the Marsupials, and the latter from
those of the Monotremata. See, also, a memoir by Dr. Max Huss, on the
mammary glands, ibid. B. viii. p. 176.) No one will suppose that the
marsupials still remained androgynous, after they had approximately
acquired their present structure. How then are we to account for male
mammals possessing mammae? It is possible that they were first
developed in the females and then transferred to the males, but from
what follows this is hardly probable.
It may be suggested, as another view, that long after the progenitors
of the whole mammalian class had ceased to be androgynous, both sexes
yielded milk, and thus nourished their young; and in the case of the
Marsupials, that both sexes carried their young in marsupial sacks.
This will not appear altogether improbable, if we reflect that the
males of existing syngnathous fishes receive the eggs of the females in
their abdominal pouches, hatch them, and afterwards, as some believe,
nourish the young (30. Mr. Lockwood believes (as quoted in ‘Quart.
Journal of Science,’ April 1868, p. 269), from what he has observed of
the development of Hippocampus, that the walls of the abdominal pouch
of the male in some way afford nourishment. On male fishes hatching the
ova in their mouths, see a very interesting paper by Prof. Wyman, in
‘Proc. Boston Soc. of Nat. Hist.’ Sept. 15, 1857; also Prof. Turner, in
‘Journal of Anatomy and Physiology,’ Nov. 1, 1866, p. 78. Dr. Gunther
has likewise described similar cases.);—that certain other male fishes
hatch the eggs within their mouths or branchial cavities;—that certain
male toads take the chaplets of eggs from the females, and wind them
round their own thighs, keeping them there until the tadpoles are
born;—that certain male birds undertake the whole duty of incubation,
and that male pigeons, as well as the females, feed their nestlings
with a secretion from their crops. But the above suggestion first
occurred to me from mammary glands of male mammals being so much more
perfectly developed than the rudiments of the other accessory
reproductive parts, which are found in the one sex though proper to the
other. The mammary glands and nipples, as they exist in male mammals,
can indeed hardly be called rudimentary; they are merely not fully
developed, and not functionally active. They are sympathetically
affected under the influence of certain diseases, like the same organs
in the female. They often secrete a few drops of milk at birth and at
puberty: this latter fact occurred in the curious case, before referred
to, where a young man possessed two pairs of mammae. In man and some
other male mammals these organs have been known occasionally to become
so well developed during maturity as to yield a fair supply of milk.
Now if we suppose that during a former prolonged period male mammals
aided the females in nursing their offspring (31. Mlle. C. Royer has
suggested a similar view in her ‘Origine de l’homme,’ etc., 1870.), and
that afterwards from some cause (as from the production of a smaller
number of young) the males ceased to give this aid, disuse of the
organs during maturity would lead to their becoming inactive; and from
two well-known principles of inheritance, this state of inactivity
would probably be transmitted to the males at the corresponding age of
maturity. But at an earlier age these organs would be left unaffected,
so that they would be almost equally well developed in the young of
both sexes.
—CONCLUSION—
Von Baer has defined advancement or progress in the organic scale
better than any one else, as resting on the amount of differentiation
and specialisation of the several parts of a being,—when arrived at
maturity, as I should be inclined to add. Now as organisms have become
slowly adapted to diversified lines of life by means of natural
selection, their parts will have become more and more differentiated
and specialised for various functions from the advantage gained by the
division of physiological labour. The same part appears often to have
been modified first for one purpose, and then long afterwards for some
other and quite distinct purpose; and thus all the parts are rendered
more and more complex. But each organism still retains the general type
of structure of the progenitor from which it was aboriginally derived.
In accordance with this view it seems, if we turn to geological
evidence, that organisation on the whole has advanced throughout the
world by slow and interrupted steps. In the great kingdom of the
Vertebrata it has culminated in man. It must not, however, be supposed
that groups of organic beings are always supplanted, and disappear as
soon as they have given birth to other and more perfect groups. The
latter, though victorious over their predecessors, may not have become
better adapted for all places in the economy of nature. Some old forms
appear to have survived from inhabiting protected sites, where they
have not been exposed to very severe competition; and these often aid
us in constructing our genealogies, by giving us a fair idea of former
and lost populations. But we must not fall into the error of looking at
the existing members of any lowly-organised group as perfect
representatives of their ancient predecessors.
The most ancient progenitors in the kingdom of the Vertebrata, at which
we are able to obtain an obscure glance, apparently consisted of a
group of marine animals (32. The inhabitants of the seashore must be
greatly affected by the tides; animals living either about the MEAN
high-water mark, or about the MEAN low-water mark, pass through a
complete cycle of tidal changes in a fortnight. Consequently, their
food supply will undergo marked changes week by week. The vital
functions of such animals, living under these conditions for many
generations, can hardly fail to run their course in regular weekly
periods. Now it is a mysterious fact that in the higher and now
terrestrial Vertebrata, as well as in other classes, many normal and
abnormal processes have one or more whole weeks as their periods; this
would be rendered intelligible if the Vertebrata are descended from an
animal allied to the existing tidal Ascidians. Many instances of such
periodic processes might be given, as the gestation of mammals, the
duration of fevers, etc. The hatching of eggs affords also a good
example, for, according to Mr. Bartlett (‘Land and Water,’ Jan. 7,
1871), the eggs of the pigeon are hatched in two weeks; those of the
fowl in three; those of the duck in four; those of the goose in five;
and those of the ostrich in seven weeks. As far as we can judge, a
recurrent period, if approximately of the right duration for any
process or function, would not, when once gained, be liable to change;
consequently it might be thus transmitted through almost any number of
generations. But if the function changed, the period would have to
change, and would be apt to change almost abruptly by a whole week.
This conclusion, if sound, is highly remarkable; for the period of
gestation in each mammal, and the hatching of each bird’s eggs, and
many other vital processes, thus betray to us the primordial birthplace
of these animals.), resembling the larvae of existing Ascidians. These
animals probably gave rise to a group of fishes, as lowly organised as
the lancelet; and from these the Ganoids, and other fishes like the
Lepidosiren, must have been developed. From such fish a very small
advance would carry us on to the Amphibians. We have seen that birds
and reptiles were once intimately connected together; and the
Monotremata now connect mammals with reptiles in a slight degree. But
no one can at present say by what line of descent the three higher and
related classes, namely, mammals, birds, and reptiles, were derived
from the two lower vertebrate classes, namely, amphibians and fishes.
In the class of mammals the steps are not difficult to conceive which
led from the ancient Monotremata to the ancient Marsupials; and from
these to the early progenitors of the placental mammals. We may thus
ascend to the Lemuridae; and the interval is not very wide from these
to the Simiadae. The Simiadae then branched off into two great stems,
the New World and Old World monkeys; and from the latter, at a remote
period, Man, the wonder and glory of the Universe, proceeded.
Thus we have given to man a pedigree of prodigious length, but not, it
may be said, of noble quality. The world, it has often been remarked,
appears as if it had long been preparing for the advent of man: and
this, in one sense is strictly true, for he owes his birth to a long
line of progenitors. If any single link in this chain had never
existed, man would not have been exactly what he now is. Unless we
wilfully close our eyes, we may, with our present knowledge,
approximately recognise our parentage; nor need we feel ashamed of it.
The most humble organism is something much higher than the inorganic
dust under our feet; and no one with an unbiassed mind can study any
living creature, however humble, without being struck with enthusiasm
at its marvellous structure and properties.
CHAPTER VII.
ON THE RACES OF MAN.
The nature and value of specific characters—Application to the races of
man—Arguments in favour of, and opposed to, ranking the so-called races
of man as distinct species—Sub-species—Monogenists and
polygenists—Convergence of character—Numerous points of resemblance in
body and mind between the most distinct races of man—The state of man
when he first spread over the earth—Each race not descended from a
single pair—The extinction of races—The formation of races—The effects
of crossing—Slight influence of the direct action of the conditions of
life—Slight or no influence of natural selection—Sexual selection.
It is not my intention here to describe the several so-called races of
men; but I am about to enquire what is the value of the differences
between them under a classificatory point of view, and how they have
originated. In determining whether two or more allied forms ought to be
ranked as species or varieties, naturalists are practically guided by
the following considerations; namely, the amount of difference between
them, and whether such differences relate to few or many points of
structure, and whether they are of physiological importance; but more
especially whether they are constant. Constancy of character is what is
chiefly valued and sought for by naturalists. Whenever it can be shewn,
or rendered probable, that the forms in question have remained distinct
for a long period, this becomes an argument of much weight in favour of
treating them as species. Even a slight degree of sterility between any
two forms when first crossed, or in their offspring, is generally
considered as a decisive test of their specific distinctness; and their
continued persistence without blending within the same area, is usually
accepted as sufficient evidence, either of some degree of mutual
sterility, or in the case of animals of some mutual repugnance to
pairing.
Independently of fusion from intercrossing, the complete absence, in a
well-investigated region, of varieties linking together any two
closely-allied forms, is probably the most important of all the
criterions of their specific distinctness; and this is a somewhat
different consideration from mere constancy of character, for two forms
may be highly variable and yet not yield intermediate varieties.
Geographical distribution is often brought into play unconsciously and
sometimes consciously; so that forms living in two widely separated
areas, in which most of the other inhabitants are specifically
distinct, are themselves usually looked at as distinct; but in truth
this affords no aid in distinguishing geographical races from so-called
good or true species.
Now let us apply these generally-admitted principles to the races of
man, viewing him in the same spirit as a naturalist would any other
animal. In regard to the amount of difference between the races, we
must make some allowance for our nice powers of discrimination gained
by the long habit of observing ourselves. In India, as Elphinstone
remarks, although a newly-arrived European cannot at first distinguish
the various native races, yet they soon appear to him extremely
dissimilar (1. ‘History of India,’ 1841, vol. i. p. 323. Father Ripa
makes exactly the same remark with respect to the Chinese.); and the
Hindoo cannot at first perceive any difference between the several
European nations. Even the most distinct races of man are much more
like each other in form than would at first be supposed; certain negro
tribes must be excepted, whilst others, as Dr. Rohlfs writes to me, and
as I have myself seen, have Caucasian features. This general similarity
is well shewn by the French photographs in the Collection
Anthropologique du Museum de Paris of the men belonging to various
races, the greater number of which might pass for Europeans, as many
persons to whom I have shewn them have remarked. Nevertheless, these
men, if seen alive, would undoubtedly appear very distinct, so that we
are clearly much influenced in our judgment by the mere colour of the
skin and hair, by slight differences in the features, and by
expression.
There is, however, no doubt that the various races, when carefully
compared and measured, differ much from each other,—as in the texture
of the hair, the relative proportions of all parts of the body (2. A
vast number of measurements of Whites, Blacks, and Indians, are given
in the ‘Investigations in the Military and Anthropolog. Statistics of
American Soldiers,’ by B.A. Gould, 1869, pp. 298-358; ‘On the capacity
of the lungs,’ p. 471. See also the numerous and valuable tables, by
Dr. Weisbach, from the observations of Dr. Scherzer and Dr. Schwarz, in
the ‘Reise der Novara: Anthropolog. Theil,’ 1867.), the capacity of the
lungs, the form and capacity of the skull, and even in the convolutions
of the brain. (3. See, for instance, Mr. Marshall’s account of the
brain of a Bushwoman, in ‘Philosophical Transactions,’ 1864, p. 519.)
But it would be an endless task to specify the numerous points of
difference. The races differ also in constitution, in acclimatisation
and in liability to certain diseases. Their mental characteristics are
likewise very distinct; chiefly as it would appear in their emotional,
but partly in their intellectual faculties. Every one who has had the
opportunity of comparison, must have been struck with the contrast
between the taciturn, even morose, aborigines of S. America and the
light-hearted, talkative negroes. There is a nearly similar contrast
between the Malays and the Papuans (4. Wallace, ‘The Malay
Archipelago,’ vol. ii. 1869, p. 178.), who live under the same physical
conditions, and are separated from each other only by a narrow space of
sea.
We will first consider the arguments which may be advanced in favour of
classing the races of man as distinct species, and then the arguments
on the other side. If a naturalist, who had never before seen a Negro,
Hottentot, Australian, or Mongolian, were to compare them, he would at
once perceive that they differed in a multitude of characters, some of
slight and some of considerable importance. On enquiry he would find
that they were adapted to live under widely different climates, and
that they differed somewhat in bodily constitution and mental
disposition. If he were then told that hundreds of similar specimens
could be brought from the same countries, he would assuredly declare
that they were as good species as many to which he had been in the
habit of affixing specific names. This conclusion would be greatly
strengthened as soon as he had ascertained that these forms had all
retained the same character for many centuries; and that negroes,
apparently identical with existing negroes, had lived at least 4000
years ago. (5. With respect to the figures in the famous Egyptian caves
of Abou-Simbel, M. Pouchet says (‘The Plurality of the Human Races,’
Eng. translat., 1864, p. 50), that he was far from finding recognisable
representations of the dozen or more nations which some authors believe
that they can recognise. Even some of the most strongly-marked races
cannot be identified with that degree of unanimity which might have
been expected from what has been written on the subject. Thus Messrs.
Nott and Gliddon (‘Types of Mankind,’ p. 148), state that Rameses II.,
or the Great, has features superbly European; whereas Knox, another
firm believer in the specific distinctness of the races of man (‘Races
of Man,’ 1850, p. 201), speaking of young Memnon (the same as Rameses
II., as I am informed by Mr. Birch), insists in the strongest manner
that he is identical in character with the Jews of Antwerp. Again, when
I looked at the statue of Amunoph III., I agreed with two officers of
the establishment, both competent judges, that he had a strongly-marked
negro type of features; but Messrs. Nott and Gliddon (ibid. p. 146,
fig. 53), describe him as a hybrid, but not of “negro intermixture.”)
He would also hear, on the authority of an excellent observer, Dr. Lund
(6. As quoted by Nott and Gliddon, ‘Types of Mankind,’ 1854, p. 439.
They give also corroborative evidence; but C. Vogt thinks that the
subject requires further investigation.), that the human skulls found
in the caves of Brazil, entombed with many extinct mammals, belonged to
the same type as that now prevailing throughout the American Continent.
Our naturalist would then perhaps turn to geographical distribution,
and he would probably declare that those forms must be distinct
species, which differ not only in appearance, but are fitted for hot,
as well as damp or dry countries, and for the Arctic regions. He might
appeal to the fact that no species in the group next to man—namely, the
Quadrumana, can resist a low temperature, or any considerable change of
climate; and that the species which come nearest to man have never been
reared to maturity, even under the temperate climate of Europe. He
would be deeply impressed with the fact, first noticed by Agassiz (7.
‘Diversity of Origin of the Human Races,’ in the ‘Christian Examiner,’
July 1850.), that the different races of man are distributed over the
world in the same zoological provinces, as those inhabited by
undoubtedly distinct species and genera of mammals. This is manifestly
the case with the Australian, Mongolian, and Negro races of man; in a
less well-marked manner with the Hottentots; but plainly with the
Papuans and Malays, who are separated, as Mr. Wallace has shewn, by
nearly the same line which divides the great Malayan and Australian
zoological provinces. The Aborigines of America range throughout the
Continent; and this at first appears opposed to the above rule, for
most of the productions of the Southern and Northern halves differ
widely: yet some few living forms, as the opossum, range from the one
into the other, as did formerly some of the gigantic Edentata. The
Esquimaux, like other Arctic animals, extend round the whole polar
regions. It should be observed that the amount of difference between
the mammals of the several zoological provinces does not correspond
with the degree of separation between the latter; so that it can hardly
be considered as an anomaly that the Negro differs more, and the
American much less from the other races of man, than do the mammals of
the African and American continents from the mammals of the other
provinces. Man, it may be added, does not appear to have aboriginally
inhabited any oceanic island; and in this respect, he resembles the
other members of his class.
In determining whether the supposed varieties of the same kind of
domestic animal should be ranked as such, or as specifically distinct,
that is, whether any of them are descended from distinct wild species,
every naturalist would lay much stress on the fact of their external
parasites being specifically distinct. All the more stress would be
laid on this fact, as it would be an exceptional one; for I am informed
by Mr. Denny that the most different kinds of dogs, fowls, and pigeons,
in England, are infested by the same species of Pediculi or lice. Now
Mr. A. Murray has carefully examined the Pediculi collected in
different countries from the different races of man (8. ‘Transactions
of the Royal Society of Edinburgh,’ vol. xxii, 1861, p. 567.); and he
finds that they differ, not only in colour, but in the structure of
their claws and limbs. In every case in which many specimens were
obtained the differences were constant. The surgeon of a whaling ship
in the Pacific assured me that when the Pediculi, with which some
Sandwich Islanders on board swarmed, strayed on to the bodies of the
English sailors, they died in the course of three or four days. These
Pediculi were darker coloured, and appeared different from those proper
to the natives of Chiloe in South America, of which he gave me
specimens. These, again, appeared larger and much softer than European
lice. Mr. Murray procured four kinds from Africa, namely, from the
Negroes of the Eastern and Western coasts, from the Hottentots and
Kaffirs; two kinds from the natives of Australia; two from North and
two from South America. In these latter cases it may be presumed that
the Pediculi came from natives inhabiting different districts. With
insects slight structural differences, if constant, are generally
esteemed of specific value: and the fact of the races of man being
infested by parasites, which appear to be specifically distinct, might
fairly be urged as an argument that the races themselves ought to be
classed as distinct species.
Our supposed naturalist having proceeded thus far in his investigation,
would next enquire whether the races of men, when crossed, were in any
degree sterile. He might consult the work (9. ‘On the Phenomena of
Hybridity in the Genus Homo,’ Eng. translat., 1864.) of Professor
Broca, a cautious and philosophical observer, and in this he would find
good evidence that some races were quite fertile together, but evidence
of an opposite nature in regard to other races. Thus it has been
asserted that the native women of Australia and Tasmania rarely produce
children to European men; the evidence, however, on this head has now
been shewn to be almost valueless. The half-castes are killed by the
pure blacks: and an account has lately been published of eleven
half-caste youths murdered and burnt at the same time, whose remains
were found by the police. (10. See the interesting letter by Mr. T.A.
Murray, in the ‘Anthropological Review,’ April 1868, p. liii. In this
letter Count Strzelecki’s statement that Australian women who have
borne children to a white man, are afterwards sterile with their own
race, is disproved. M. A. de Quatrefages has also collected (Revue des
Cours Scientifiques, March, 1869, p. 239), much evidence that
Australians and Europeans are not sterile when crossed.) Again, it has
often been said that when mulattoes intermarry, they produce few
children; on the other hand, Dr. Bachman, of Charleston (11. ‘An
Examination of Prof. Agassiz’s Sketch of the Nat. Provinces of the
Animal World,’ Charleston, 1855, p. 44.), positively asserts that he
has known mulatto families which have intermarried for several
generations, and have continued on an average as fertile as either pure
whites or pure blacks. Enquiries formerly made by Sir C. Lyell on this
subject led him, as he informs me, to the same conclusion. (12. Dr.
Rohlfs writes to me that he found the mixed races in the Great Sahara,
derived from Arabs, Berbers, and Negroes of three tribes,
extraordinarily fertile. On the other hand, Mr. Winwood Reade informs
me that the Negroes on the Gold Coast, though admiring white men and
mulattoes, have a maxim that mulattoes should not intermarry, as the
children are few and sickly. This belief, as Mr. Reade remarks,
deserves attention, as white men have visited and resided on the Gold
Coast for four hundred years, so that the natives have had ample time
to gain knowledge through experience.) In the United States the census
for the year 1854 included, according to Dr. Bachman, 405,751
mulattoes; and this number, considering all the circumstances of the
case, seems small; but it may partly be accounted for by the degraded
and anomalous position of the class, and by the profligacy of the
women. A certain amount of absorption of mulattoes into negroes must
always be in progress; and this would lead to an apparent diminution of
the former. The inferior vitality of mulattoes is spoken of in a
trustworthy work (13. ‘Military and Anthropological Statistics of
American Soldiers,’ by B.A. Gould, 1869, p. 319.) as a well-known
phenomenon; and this, although a different consideration from their
lessened fertility, may perhaps be advanced as a proof of the specific
distinctness of the parent races. No doubt both animal and vegetable
hybrids, when produced from extremely distinct species, are liable to
premature death; but the parents of mulattoes cannot be put under the
category of extremely distinct species. The common Mule, so notorious
for long life and vigour, and yet so sterile, shews how little
necessary connection there is in hybrids between lessened fertility and
vitality; other analogous cases could be cited.
Even if it should hereafter be proved that all the races of men were
perfectly fertile together, he who was inclined from other reasons to
rank them as distinct species, might with justice argue that fertility
and sterility are not safe criterions of specific distinctness. We know
that these qualities are easily affected by changed conditions of life,
or by close inter-breeding, and that they are governed by highly
complex laws, for instance, that of the unequal fertility of converse
crosses between the same two species. With forms which must be ranked
as undoubted species, a perfect series exists from those which are
absolutely sterile when crossed, to those which are almost or
completely fertile. The degrees of sterility do not coincide strictly
with the degrees of difference between the parents in external
structure or habits of life. Man in many respects may be compared with
those animals which have long been domesticated, and a large body of
evidence can be advanced in favour of the Pallasian doctrine (14. The
‘Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication,’ vol. ii. p. 109.
I may here remind the reader that the sterility of species when crossed
is not a specially-acquired quality, but, like the incapacity of
certain trees to be grafted together, is incidental on other acquired
differences. The nature of these differences is unknown, but they
relate more especially to the reproductive system, and much less so to
external structure or to ordinary differences in constitution. One
important element in the sterility of crossed species apparently lies
in one or both having been long habituated to fixed conditions; for we
know that changed conditions have a special influence on the
reproductive system, and we have good reason to believe (as before
remarked) that the fluctuating conditions of domestication tend to
eliminate that sterility which is so general with species, in a natural
state, when crossed. It has elsewhere been shewn by me (ibid. vol. ii.
p. 185, and ‘Origin of Species,’ 5th edit. p. 317), that the sterility
of crossed species has not been acquired through natural selection: we
can see that when two forms have already been rendered very sterile, it
is scarcely possible that their sterility should be augmented by the
preservation or survival of the more and more sterile individuals; for,
as the sterility increases, fewer and fewer offspring will be produced
from which to breed, and at last only single individuals will be
produced at the rarest intervals. But there is even a higher grade of
sterility than this. Both Gartner and Kolreuter have proved that in
genera of plants, including many species, a series can be formed from
species which, when crossed, yield fewer and fewer seeds, to species
which never produce a single seed, but yet are affected by the pollen
of the other species, as shewn by the swelling of the germen. It is
here manifestly impossible to select the more sterile individuals,
which have already ceased to yield seeds; so that the acme of
sterility, when the germen alone is affected, cannot have been gained
through selection. This acme, and no doubt the other grades of
sterility, are the incidental results of certain unknown differences in
the constitution of the reproductive system of the species which are
crossed.), that domestication tends to eliminate the sterility which is
so general a result of the crossing of species in a state of nature.
From these several considerations, it may be justly urged that the
perfect fertility of the intercrossed races of man, if established,
would not absolutely preclude us from ranking them as distinct species.
Independently of fertility, the characters presented by the offspring
from a cross have been thought to indicate whether or not the
parent-forms ought to be ranked as species or varieties; but after
carefully studying the evidence, I have come to the conclusion that no
general rules of this kind can be trusted. The ordinary result of a
cross is the production of a blended or intermediate form; but in
certain cases some of the offspring take closely after one parent-form,
and some after the other. This is especially apt to occur when the
parents differ in characters which first appeared as sudden variations
or monstrosities. (15. ‘The Variation of Animals,’ etc., vol. ii. p.
92.) I refer to this point, because Dr. Rohlfs informs me that he has
frequently seen in Africa the offspring of negroes crossed with members
of other races, either completely black or completely white, or rarely
piebald. On the other hand, it is notorious that in America mulattoes
commonly present an intermediate appearance.
We have now seen that a naturalist might feel himself fully justified
in ranking the races of man as distinct species; for he has found that
they are distinguished by many differences in structure and
constitution, some being of importance. These differences have, also,
remained nearly constant for very long periods of time. Our naturalist
will have been in some degree influenced by the enormous range of man,
which is a great anomaly in the class of mammals, if mankind be viewed
as a single species. He will have been struck with the distribution of
the several so-called races, which accords with that of other
undoubtedly distinct species of mammals. Finally, he might urge that
the mutual fertility of all the races has not as yet been fully proved,
and even if proved would not be an absolute proof of their specific
identity.
On the other side of the question, if our supposed naturalist were to
enquire whether the forms of man keep distinct like ordinary species,
when mingled together in large numbers in the same country, he would
immediately discover that this was by no means the case. In Brazil he
would behold an immense mongrel population of Negroes and Portuguese;
in Chiloe, and other parts of South America, he would behold the whole
population consisting of Indians and Spaniards blended in various
degrees. (16. M. de Quatrefages has given (‘Anthropological Review,’
Jan. 1869, p. 22), an interesting account of the success and energy of
the Paulistas in Brazil, who are a much crossed race of Portuguese and
Indians, with a mixture of the blood of other races.) In many parts of
the same continent he would meet with the most complex crosses between
Negroes, Indians, and Europeans; and judging from the vegetable
kingdom, such triple crosses afford the severest test of the mutual
fertility of the parent forms. In one island of the Pacific he would
find a small population of mingled Polynesian and English blood; and in
the Fiji Archipelago a population of Polynesian and Negritos crossed in
all degrees. Many analogous cases could be added; for instance, in
Africa. Hence the races of man are not sufficiently distinct to inhabit
the same country without fusion; and the absence of fusion affords the
usual and best test of specific distinctness.
Our naturalist would likewise be much disturbed as soon as he perceived
that the distinctive characters of all the races were highly variable.
This fact strikes every one on first beholding the negro slaves in
Brazil, who have been imported from all parts of Africa. The same
remark holds good with the Polynesians, and with many other races. It
may be doubted whether any character can be named which is distinctive
of a race and is constant. Savages, even within the limits of the same
tribe, are not nearly so uniform in character, as has been often
asserted. Hottentot women offer certain peculiarities, more strongly
marked than those occurring in any other race, but these are known not
to be of constant occurrence. In the several American tribes, colour
and hairiness differ considerably; as does colour to a certain degree,
and the shape of the features greatly, in the Negroes of Africa. The
shape of the skull varies much in some races (17. For instance, with
the aborigines of America and Australia, Prof. Huxley says (‘Transact.
Internat. Congress of Prehist. Arch.’ 1868, p. 105), that the skulls of
many South Germans and Swiss are “as short and as broad as those of the
Tartars,” etc.); and so it is with every other character. Now all
naturalists have learnt by dearly bought experience, how rash it is to
attempt to define species by the aid of inconstant characters.
But the most weighty of all the arguments against treating the races of
man as distinct species, is that they graduate into each other,
independently in many cases, as far as we can judge, of their having
intercrossed. Man has been studied more carefully than any other
animal, and yet there is the greatest possible diversity amongst
capable judges whether he should be classed as a single species or
race, or as two (Virey), as three (Jacquinot), as four (Kant), five
(Blumenbach), six (Buffon), seven (Hunter), eight (Agassiz), eleven
(Pickering), fifteen (Bory St. Vincent), sixteen (Desmoulins),
twenty-two (Morton), sixty (Crawfurd), or as sixty-three, according to
Burke. (18. See a good discussion on this subject in Waitz,
‘Introduction to Anthropology,’ Eng. translat., 1863, pp. 198-208, 227.
I have taken some of the above statements from H. Tuttle’s ‘Origin and
Antiquity of Physical Man,’ Boston, 1866, p. 35.) This diversity of
judgment does not prove that the races ought not to be ranked as
species, but it shews that they graduate into each other, and that it
is hardly possible to discover clear distinctive characters between
them.
Every naturalist who has had the misfortune to undertake the
description of a group of highly varying organisms, has encountered
cases (I speak after experience) precisely like that of man; and if of
a cautious disposition, he will end by uniting all the forms which
graduate into each other, under a single species; for he will say to
himself that he has no right to give names to objects which he cannot
define. Cases of this kind occur in the Order which includes man,
namely in certain genera of monkeys; whilst in other genera, as in
Cercopithecus, most of the species can be determined with certainty. In
the American genus Cebus, the various forms are ranked by some
naturalists as species, by others as mere geographical races. Now if
numerous specimens of Cebus were collected from all parts of South
America, and those forms which at present appear to be specifically
distinct, were found to graduate into each other by close steps, they
would usually be ranked as mere varieties or races; and this course has
been followed by most naturalists with respect to the races of man.
Nevertheless, it must be confessed that there are forms, at least in
the vegetable kingdom (19. Prof. Nageli has carefully described several
striking cases in his ‘Botanische Mittheilungen,’ B. ii. 1866, ss.
294-369. Prof. Asa Gray has made analogous remarks on some intermediate
forms in the Compositae of N. America.), which we cannot avoid naming
as species, but which are connected together by numberless gradations,
independently of intercrossing.
Some naturalists have lately employed the term “sub-species” to
designate forms which possess many of the characteristics of true
species, but which hardly deserve so high a rank. Now if we reflect on
the weighty arguments above given, for raising the races of man to the
dignity of species, and the insuperable difficulties on the other side
in defining them, it seems that the term “sub-species” might here be
used with propriety. But from long habit the term “race” will perhaps
always be employed. The choice of terms is only so far important in
that it is desirable to use, as far as possible, the same terms for the
same degrees of difference. Unfortunately this can rarely be done: for
the larger genera generally include closely-allied forms, which can be
distinguished only with much difficulty, whilst the smaller genera
within the same family include forms that are perfectly distinct; yet
all must be ranked equally as species. So again, species within the
same large genus by no means resemble each other to the same degree: on
the contrary, some of them can generally be arranged in little groups
round other species, like satellites round planets. (20. ‘Origin of
Species,’ 5th edit. p. 68.)
The question whether mankind consists of one or several species has of
late years been much discussed by anthropologists, who are divided into
the two schools of monogenists and polygenists. Those who do not admit
the principle of evolution, must look at species as separate creations,
or in some manner as distinct entities; and they must decide what forms
of man they will consider as species by the analogy of the method
commonly pursued in ranking other organic beings as species. But it is
a hopeless endeavour to decide this point, until some definition of the
term “species” is generally accepted; and the definition must not
include an indeterminate element such as an act of creation. We might
as well attempt without any definition to decide whether a certain
number of houses should be called a village, town, or city. We have a
practical illustration of the difficulty in the never-ending doubts
whether many closely-allied mammals, birds, insects, and plants, which
represent each other respectively in North America and Europe, should
be ranked as species or geographical races; and the like holds true of
the productions of many islands situated at some little distance from
the nearest continent.
Those naturalists, on the other hand, who admit the principle of
evolution, and this is now admitted by the majority of rising men, will
feel no doubt that all the races of man are descended from a single
primitive stock; whether or not they may think fit to designate the
races as distinct species, for the sake of expressing their amount of
difference. (21. See Prof. Huxley to this effect in the ‘Fortnightly
Review,’ 1865, p. 275.) With our domestic animals the question whether
the various races have arisen from one or more species is somewhat
different. Although it may be admitted that all the races, as well as
all the natural species within the same genus, have sprung from the
same primitive stock, yet it is a fit subject for discussion, whether
all the domestic races of the dog, for instance, have acquired their
present amount of difference since some one species was first
domesticated by man; or whether they owe some of their characters to
inheritance from distinct species, which had already been
differentiated in a state of nature. With man no such question can
arise, for he cannot be said to have been domesticated at any
particular period.
During an early stage in the divergence of the races of man from a
common stock, the differences between the races and their number must
have been small; consequently as far as their distinguishing characters
are concerned, they then had less claim to rank as distinct species
than the existing so-called races. Nevertheless, so arbitrary is the
term of species, that such early races would perhaps have been ranked
by some naturalists as distinct species, if their differences, although
extremely slight, had been more constant than they are at present, and
had not graduated into each other.
It is however possible, though far from probable, that the early
progenitors of man might formerly have diverged much in character,
until they became more unlike each other than any now existing races;
but that subsequently, as suggested by Vogt (22. ‘Lectures on Man,’
Eng. translat., 1864, p. 468.), they converged in character. When man
selects the offspring of two distinct species for the same object, he
sometimes induces a considerable amount of convergence, as far as
general appearance is concerned. This is the case, as shewn by von
Nathusius (23. ‘Die Rassen des Schweines,’ 1860, s. 46. ‘Vorstudien für
Geschichte,’ etc., Schweinesschädel, 1864, s. 104. With respect to
cattle, see M. de Quatrefages, ‘Unité de l’Espèce Humaine,’ 1861, p.
119.), with the improved breeds of the pig, which are descended from
two distinct species; and in a less marked manner with the improved
breeds of cattle. A great anatomist, Gratiolet, maintains that the
anthropomorphous apes do not form a natural sub-group; but that the
orang is a highly developed gibbon or semnopithecus, the chimpanzee a
highly developed macacus, and the gorilla a highly developed mandrill.
If this conclusion, which rests almost exclusively on brain-characters,
be admitted, we should have a case of convergence at least in external
characters, for the anthropomorphous apes are certainly more like each
other in many points, than they are to other apes. All analogical
resemblances, as of a whale to a fish, may indeed be said to be cases
of convergence; but this term has never been applied to superficial and
adaptive resemblances. It would, however, be extremely rash to
attribute to convergence close similarity of character in many points
of structure amongst the modified descendants of widely distinct
beings. The form of a crystal is determined solely by the molecular
forces, and it is not surprising that dissimilar substances should
sometimes assume the same form; but with organic beings we should bear
in mind that the form of each depends on an infinity of complex
relations, namely on variations, due to causes far too intricate to be
followed,—on the nature of the variations preserved, these depending on
the physical conditions, and still more on the surrounding organisms
which compete with each,—and lastly, on inheritance (in itself a
fluctuating element) from innumerable progenitors, all of which have
had their forms determined through equally complex relations. It
appears incredible that the modified descendants of two organisms, if
these differed from each other in a marked manner, should ever
afterwards converge so closely as to lead to a near approach to
identity throughout their whole organisation. In the case of the
convergent races of pigs above referred to, evidence of their descent
from two primitive stocks is, according to von Nathusius, still plainly
retained, in certain bones of their skulls. If the races of man had
descended, as is supposed by some naturalists, from two or more
species, which differed from each other as much, or nearly as much, as
does the orang from the gorilla, it can hardly be doubted that marked
differences in the structure of certain bones would still be
discoverable in man as he now exists.
Although the existing races of man differ in many respects, as in
colour, hair, shape of skull, proportions of the body, etc., yet if
their whole structure be taken into consideration they are found to
resemble each other closely in a multitude of points. Many of these are
of so unimportant or of so singular a nature, that it is extremely
improbable that they should have been independently acquired by
aboriginally distinct species or races. The same remark holds good with
equal or greater force with respect to the numerous points of mental
similarity between the most distinct races of man. The American
aborigines, Negroes and Europeans are as different from each other in
mind as any three races that can be named; yet I was incessantly
struck, whilst living with the Fuegians on board the “Beagle,” with the
many little traits of character, shewing how similar their minds were
to ours; and so it was with a full-blooded negro with whom I happened
once to be intimate.
He who will read Mr. Tylor’s and Sir J. Lubbock’s interesting works
(24. Tylor’s ‘Early History of Mankind,’ 1865: with respect to
gesture-language, see p. 54. Lubbock’s ‘Prehistoric Times,’ 2nd edit.
1869.) can hardly fail to be deeply impressed with the close similarity
between the men of all races in tastes, dispositions and habits. This
is shewn by the pleasure which they all take in dancing, rude music,
acting, painting, tattooing, and otherwise decorating themselves; in
their mutual comprehension of gesture-language, by the same expression
in their features, and by the same inarticulate cries, when excited by
the same emotions. This similarity, or rather identity, is striking,
when contrasted with the different expressions and cries made by
distinct species of monkeys. There is good evidence that the art of
shooting with bows and arrows has not been handed down from any common
progenitor of mankind, yet as Westropp and Nilsson have remarked (25.
‘On Analogous Forms of Implements,’ in ‘Memoirs of Anthropological
Society’ by H.M. Westropp. ‘The Primitive Inhabitants of Scandinavia,’
Eng. translat., edited by Sir J. Lubbock, 1868, p. 104.), the stone
arrow-heads, brought from the most distant parts of the world, and
manufactured at the most remote periods, are almost identical; and this
fact can only be accounted for by the various races having similar
inventive or mental powers. The same observation has been made by
archaeologists (26. Westropp ‘On Cromlechs,’ etc., ‘Journal of
Ethnological Soc.’ as given in ‘Scientific Opinion,’ June 2nd, 1869, p.
3.) with respect to certain widely-prevalent ornaments, such as
zig-zags, etc.; and with respect to various simple beliefs and customs,
such as the burying of the dead under megalithic structures. I remember
observing in South America (27. ‘Journal of Researches: Voyage of the
“Beagle,”’ p. 46.), that there, as in so many other parts of the world,
men have generally chosen the summits of lofty hills, to throw up piles
of stones, either as a record of some remarkable event, or for burying
their dead.
Now when naturalists observe a close agreement in numerous small
details of habits, tastes, and dispositions between two or more
domestic races, or between nearly-allied natural forms, they use this
fact as an argument that they are descended from a common progenitor
who was thus endowed; and consequently that all should be classed under
the same species. The same argument may be applied with much force to
the races of man.
As it is improbable that the numerous and unimportant points of
resemblance between the several races of man in bodily structure and
mental faculties (I do not here refer to similar customs) should all
have been independently acquired, they must have been inherited from
progenitors who had these same characters. We thus gain some insight
into the early state of man, before he had spread step by step over the
face of the earth. The spreading of man to regions widely separated by
the sea, no doubt, preceded any great amount of divergence of character
in the several races; for otherwise we should sometimes meet with the
same race in distinct continents; and this is never the case. Sir J.
Lubbock, after comparing the arts now practised by savages in all parts
of the world, specifies those which man could not have known, when he
first wandered from his original birthplace; for if once learnt they
would never have been forgotten. (28. ‘Prehistoric Times,’ 1869, p.
574.) He thus shews that “the spear, which is but a development of the
knife-point, and the club, which is but a long hammer, are the only
things left.” He admits, however, that the art of making fire probably
had been already discovered, for it is common to all the races now
existing, and was known to the ancient cave-inhabitants of Europe.
Perhaps the art of making rude canoes or rafts was likewise known; but
as man existed at a remote epoch, when the land in many places stood at
a very different level to what it does now, he would have been able,
without the aid of canoes, to have spread widely. Sir J. Lubbock
further remarks how improbable it is that our earliest ancestors could
have “counted as high as ten, considering that so many races now in
existence cannot get beyond four.” Nevertheless, at this early period,
the intellectual and social faculties of man could hardly have been
inferior in any extreme degree to those possessed at present by the
lowest savages; otherwise primeval man could not have been so eminently
successful in the struggle for life, as proved by his early and wide
diffusion.
From the fundamental differences between certain languages, some
philologists have inferred that when man first became widely diffused,
he was not a speaking animal; but it may be suspected that languages,
far less perfect than any now spoken, aided by gestures, might have
been used, and yet have left no traces on subsequent and more
highly-developed tongues. Without the use of some language, however
imperfect, it appears doubtful whether man’s intellect could have risen
to the standard implied by his dominant position at an early period.
Whether primeval man, when he possessed but few arts, and those of the
rudest kind, and when his power of language was extremely imperfect,
would have deserved to be called man, must depend on the definition
which we employ. 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. But
this is a matter of very little importance. So again, it is almost a
matter of indifference whether the so-called races of man are thus
designated, or are ranked as species or sub-species; but the latter
term appears the more appropriate. Finally, we may conclude that when
the principle of evolution is generally accepted, as it surely will be
before long, the dispute between the monogenists and the polygenists
will die a silent and unobserved death.
One other question ought not to be passed over without notice, namely,
whether, as is sometimes assumed, each sub-species or race of man has
sprung from a single pair of progenitors. With our domestic animals a
new race can readily be formed by carefully matching the varying
offspring from a single pair, or even from a single individual
possessing some new character; but most of our races have been formed,
not intentionally from a selected pair, but unconsciously by the
preservation of many individuals which have varied, however slightly,
in some useful or desired manner. If in one country stronger and
heavier horses, and in another country lighter and fleeter ones, were
habitually preferred, we may feel sure that two distinct sub-breeds
would be produced in the course of time, without any one pair having
been separated and bred from, in either country. Many races have been
thus formed, and their manner of formation is closely analogous to that
of natural species. We know, also, that the horses taken to the
Falkland Islands have, during successive generations, become smaller
and weaker, whilst those which have run wild on the Pampas have
acquired larger and coarser heads; and such changes are manifestly due,
not to any one pair, but to all the individuals having been subjected
to the same conditions, aided, perhaps, by the principle of reversion.
The new sub-breeds in such cases are not descended from any single
pair, but from many individuals which have varied in different degrees,
but in the same general manner; and we may conclude that the races of
man have been similarly produced, the modifications being either the
direct result of exposure to different conditions, or the indirect
result of some form of selection. But to this latter subject we shall
presently return.
ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE RACES OF MAN.
The partial or complete extinction of many races and sub-races of man
is historically known. Humboldt saw in South America a parrot which was
the sole living creature that could speak a word of the language of a
lost tribe. Ancient monuments and stone implements found in all parts
of the world, about which no tradition has been preserved by the
present inhabitants, indicate much extinction. Some small and broken
tribes, remnants of former races, still survive in isolated and
generally mountainous districts. In Europe the ancient races were all,
according to Shaaffhausen (29. Translation in ‘Anthropological Review,’
Oct. 1868, p. 431.), “lower in the scale than the rudest living
savages”; they must therefore have differed, to a certain extent, from
any existing race. The remains described by Professor Broca from Les
Eyzies, though they unfortunately appear to have belonged to a single
family, indicate a race with a most singular combination of low or
simious, and of high characteristics. This race is “entirely different
from any other, ancient or modern, that we have heard of.” (30.
‘Transactions, International Congress of Prehistoric Archaeology’ 1868,
pp. 172-175. See also Broca (tr.) in ‘Anthropological Review,’ Oct.
1868, p. 410.) It differed, therefore, from the quaternary race of the
caverns of Belgium.
Man can long resist conditions which appear extremely unfavourable for
his existence. (31. Dr. Gerland, ‘Ueber das Aussterben der
Naturvölker,’ 1868, s. 82.) He has long lived in the extreme regions of
the North, with no wood for his canoes or implements, and with only
blubber as fuel, and melted snow as drink. In the southern extremity of
America the Fuegians survive without the protection of clothes, or of
any building worthy to be called a hovel. In South Africa the
aborigines wander over arid plains, where dangerous beasts abound. Man
can withstand the deadly influence of the Terai at the foot of the
Himalaya, and the pestilential shores of tropical Africa.
Extinction follows chiefly from the competition of tribe with tribe,
and race with race. Various checks are always in action, serving to
keep down the numbers of each savage tribe,—such as periodical famines,
nomadic habits and the consequent deaths of infants, prolonged
suckling, wars, accidents, sickness, licentiousness, the stealing of
women, infanticide, and especially lessened fertility. If any one of
these checks increases in power, even slightly, the tribe thus affected
tends to decrease; and when of two adjoining tribes one becomes less
numerous and less powerful than the other, the contest is soon settled
by war, slaughter, cannibalism, slavery, and absorption. Even when a
weaker tribe is not thus abruptly swept away, if it once begins to
decrease, it generally goes on decreasing until it becomes extinct.
(32. Gerland (ibid. s. 12) gives facts in support of this statement.)
When civilised nations come into contact with barbarians the struggle
is short, except where a deadly climate gives its aid to the native
race. Of the causes which lead to the victory of civilised nations,
some are plain and simple, others complex and obscure. We can see that
the cultivation of the land will be fatal in many ways to savages, for
they cannot, or will not, change their habits. New diseases and vices
have in some cases proved highly destructive; and it appears that a new
disease often causes much death, until those who are most susceptible
to its destructive influence are gradually weeded out (33. See remarks
to this effect in Sir H. Holland’s ‘Medical Notes and Reflections,’
1839, p. 390.); and so it may be with the evil effects from spirituous
liquors, as well as with the unconquerably strong taste for them shewn
by so many savages. It further appears, mysterious as is the fact, that
the first meeting of distinct and separated people generates disease.
(34. I have collected (‘Journal of Researches: Voyage of the “Beagle,”’
p. 435) a good many cases bearing on this subject; see also Gerland,
ibid. s. 8. Poeppig speaks of the “breath of civilisation as poisonous
to savages.”) Mr. Sproat, who in Vancouver Island closely attended to
the subject of extinction, believed that changed habits of life,
consequent on the advent of Europeans, induces much ill health. He
lays, also, great stress on the apparently trifling cause that the
natives become “bewildered and dull by the new life around them; they
lose the motives for exertion, and get no new ones in their place.”
(35. Sproat, ‘Scenes and Studies of Savage Life,’ 1868, p. 284.)
The grade of their civilisation seems to be a most important element in
the success of competing nations. A few centuries ago Europe feared the
inroads of Eastern barbarians; now any such fear would be ridiculous.
It is a more curious fact, as Mr. Bagehot has remarked, that savages
did not formerly waste away before the classical nations, as they now
do before modern civilised nations; had they done so, the old moralists
would have mused over the event; but there is no lament in any writer
of that period over the perishing barbarians. (36. Bagehot, ‘Physics
and Politics,’ ‘Fortnightly Review,’ April 1, 1868, p. 455.) The most
potent of all the causes of extinction, appears in many cases to be
lessened fertility and ill-health, especially amongst the children,
arising from changed conditions of life, notwithstanding that the new
conditions may not be injurious in themselves. I am much indebted to
Mr. H.H. Howorth for having called my attention to this subject, and
for having given me information respecting it. I have collected the
following cases.
When Tasmania was first colonised the natives were roughly estimated by
some at 7000 and by others at 20,000. Their number was soon greatly
reduced, chiefly by fighting with the English and with each other.
After the famous hunt by all the colonists, when the remaining natives
delivered themselves up to the government, they consisted only of 120
individuals (37. All the statements here given are taken from ‘The Last
of the Tasmanians,’ by J. Bonwick, 1870.), who were in 1832 transported
to Flinders Island. This island, situated between Tasmania and
Australia, is forty miles long, and from twelve to eighteen miles
broad: it seems healthy, and the natives were well treated.
Nevertheless, they suffered greatly in health. In 1834 they consisted
(Bonwick, p. 250) of forty-seven adult males, forty-eight adult
females, and sixteen children, or in all of 111 souls. In 1835 only one
hundred were left. As they continued rapidly to decrease, and as they
themselves thought that they should not perish so quickly elsewhere,
they were removed in 1847 to Oyster Cove in the southern part of
Tasmania. They then consisted (Dec. 20th, 1847) of fourteen men,
twenty-two women and ten children. (38. This is the statement of the
Governor of Tasmania, Sir W. Denison, ‘Varieties of Vice-Regal Life,’
1870, vol. i. p. 67.) But the change of site did no good. Disease and
death still pursued them, and in 1864 one man (who died in 1869), and
three elderly women alone survived. The infertility of the women is
even a more remarkable fact than the liability of all to ill-health and
death. At the time when only nine women were left at Oyster Cove, they
told Mr. Bonwick (p. 386), that only two had ever borne children: and
these two had together produced only three children!
With respect to the cause of this extraordinary state of things, Dr.
Story remarks that death followed the attempts to civilise the natives.
“If left to themselves to roam as they were wont and undisturbed, they
would have reared more children, and there would have been less
mortality.” Another careful observer of the natives, Mr. Davis,
remarks, “The births have been few and the deaths numerous. This may
have been in a great measure owing to their change of living and food;
but more so to their banishment from the mainland of Van Diemen’s Land,
and consequent depression of spirits” (Bonwick, pp. 388, 390).
Similar facts have been observed in two widely different parts of
Australia. The celebrated explorer, Mr. Gregory, told Mr. Bonwick, that
in Queensland “the want of reproduction was being already felt with the
blacks, even in the most recently settled parts, and that decay would
set in.” Of thirteen aborigines from Shark’s Bay who visited Murchison
River, twelve died of consumption within three months. (39. For these
cases, see Bonwick’s ‘Daily Life of the Tasmanians,’ 1870, p. 90: and
the ‘Last of the Tasmanians,’ 1870, p. 386.)
The decrease of the Maories of New Zealand has been carefully
investigated by Mr. Fenton, in an admirable Report, from which all the
following statements, with one exception, are taken. (40. ‘Observations
on the Aboriginal Inhabitants of New Zealand,’ published by the
Government, 1859.) The decrease in number since 1830 is admitted by
every one, including the natives themselves, and is still steadily
progressing. Although it has hitherto been found impossible to take an
actual census of the natives, their numbers were carefully estimated by
residents in many districts. The result seems trustworthy, and shows
that during the fourteen years, previous to 1858, the decrease was
19.42 per cent. Some of the tribes, thus carefully examined, lived
above a hundred miles apart, some on the coast, some inland; and their
means of subsistence and habits differed to a certain extent (p. 28).
The total number in 1858 was believed to be 53,700, and in 1872, after
a second interval of fourteen years, another census was taken, and the
number is given as only 36,359, shewing a decrease of 32.29 per cent!
(41. ‘New Zealand,’ by Alex. Kennedy, 1873, p. 47.) Mr. Fenton, after
shewing in detail the insufficiency of the various causes, usually
assigned in explanation of this extraordinary decrease, such as new
diseases, the profligacy of the women, drunkenness, wars, etc.,
concludes on weighty grounds that it depends chiefly on the
unproductiveness of the women, and on the extraordinary mortality of
the young children (pp. 31, 34). In proof of this he shews (p. 33) that
in 1844 there was one non-adult for every 2.57 adults; whereas in 1858
there was only one non-adult for every 3.27 adults. The mortality of
the adults is also great. He adduces as a further cause of the decrease
the inequality of the sexes; for fewer females are born than males. To
this latter point, depending perhaps on a widely distinct cause, I
shall return in a future chapter. Mr. Fenton contrasts with
astonishment the decrease in New Zealand with the increase in Ireland;
countries not very dissimilar in climate, and where the inhabitants now
follow nearly similar habits. The Maories themselves (p. 35) “attribute
their decadence, in some measure, to the introduction of new food and
clothing, and the attendant change of habits”; and it will be seen,
when we consider the influence of changed conditions on fertility, that
they are probably right. The diminution began between the years 1830
and 1840; and Mr. Fenton shews (p. 40) that about 1830, the art of
manufacturing putrid corn (maize), by long steeping in water, was
discovered and largely practised; and this proves that a change of
habits was beginning amongst the natives, even when New Zealand was
only thinly inhabited by Europeans. When I visited the Bay of Islands
in 1835, the dress and food of the inhabitants had already been much
modified: they raised potatoes, maize, and other agricultural produce,
and exchanged them for English manufactured goods and tobacco.
It is evident from many statements in the life of Bishop Patteson (42.
‘Life of J.C. Patteson,’ by C.M. Younge, 1874; see more especially vol.
i. p. 530.), that the Melanesians of the New Hebrides and neighbouring
archipelagoes, suffered to an extraordinary degree in health, and
perished in large numbers, when they were removed to New Zealand,
Norfolk Island, and other salubrious places, in order to be educated as
missionaries.
The decrease of the native population of the Sandwich Islands is as
notorious as that of New Zealand. It has been roughly estimated by those
best capable of judging, that when Cook discovered the Islands in 1779, the
population amounted to about 300,000. According to a loose census in 1823,
the numbers then were 142,050. In 1832, and at several subsequent periods,
an accurate census was officially taken, but I have been able to obtain
only the following returns:
Native Population Annual rate of decrease
per cent., assuming it to
(Except during 1832 and have been uniform between
1836, when the few the successive censuses;
foreigners in the islands these censuses being taken
Year were included.) at irregular intervals.
1832 130,313
4.46
1836 108,579
2.47
1853 71,019
0.81
1860 67,084
2.18
1866 58,765
2.17
1872 51,531
We here see that in the interval of forty years, between 1832 and 1872,
the population has decreased no less than sixty-eight per cent.! This
has been attributed by most writers to the profligacy of the women, to
former bloody wars, and to the severe labour imposed on conquered
tribes and to newly introduced diseases, which have been on several
occasions extremely destructive. No doubt these and other such causes
have been highly efficient, and may account for the extraordinary rate
of decrease between the years 1832 and 1836; but the most potent of all
the causes seems to be lessened fertility. According to Dr.
Ruschenberger of the U.S. Navy, who visited these islands between 1835
and 1837, in one district of Hawaii, only twenty-five men out of 1134,
and in another district only ten out of 637, had a family with as many
as three children. Of eighty married women, only thirty-nine had ever
borne children; and “the official report gives an average of half a
child to each married couple in the whole island.” This is almost
exactly the same average as with the Tasmanians at Oyster Cove. Jarves,
who published his History in 1843, says that “families who have three
children are freed from all taxes; those having more, are rewarded by
gifts of land and other encouragements.” This unparalleled enactment by
the government well shews how infertile the race had become. The Rev.
A. Bishop stated in the Hawaiian ‘Spectator’ in 1839, that a large
proportion of the children die at early ages, and Bishop Staley informs
me that this is still the case, just as in New Zealand. This has been
attributed to the neglect of the children by the women, but it is
probably in large part due to innate weakness of constitution in the
children, in relation to the lessened fertility of their parents. There
is, moreover, a further resemblance to the case of New Zealand, in the
fact that there is a large excess of male over female births: the
census of 1872 gives 31,650 males to 25,247 females of all ages, that
is 125.36 males for every 100 females; whereas in all civilised
countries the females exceed the males. No doubt the profligacy of the
women may in part account for their small fertility; but their changed
habits of life is a much more probable cause, and which will at the
same time account for the increased mortality, especially of the
children. The islands were visited by Cook in 1779, Vancouver in 1794,
and often subsequently by whalers. In 1819 missionaries arrived, and
found that idolatry had been already abolished, and other changes
effected by the king. After this period there was a rapid change in
almost all the habits of life of the natives, and they soon became “the
most civilised of the Pacific Islanders.” One of my informants, Mr.
Coan, who was born on the islands, remarks that the natives have
undergone a greater change in their habits of life in the course of
fifty years than Englishmen during a thousand years. From information
received from Bishop Staley, it does not appear that the poorer classes
have ever much changed their diet, although many new kinds of fruit
have been introduced, and the sugar-cane is in universal use. Owing,
however, to their passion for imitating Europeans, they altered their
manner of dressing at an early period, and the use of alcoholic drinks
became very general. Although these changes appear inconsiderable, I
can well believe, from what is known with respect to animals, that they
might suffice to lessen the fertility of the natives. (43. The
foregoing statements are taken chiefly from the following works:
Jarves’ ‘History of the Hawaiian Islands,’ 1843, pp. 400-407. Cheever,
‘Life in the Sandwich Islands,’ 1851, p. 277. Ruschenberger is quoted
by Bonwick, ‘Last of the Tasmanians,’ 1870, p. 378. Bishop is quoted by
Sir E. Belcher, ‘Voyage Round the World,’ 1843, vol. i. p. 272. I owe
the census of the several years to the kindness of Mr. Coan, at the
request of Dr. Youmans of New York; and in most cases I have compared
the Youmans figures with those given in several of the above-named
works. I have omitted the census for 1850, as I have seen two widely
different numbers given.)
Lastly, Mr. Macnamara states (44. ‘The Indian Medical Gazette,’ Nov. 1,
1871, p. 240.) that the low and degraded inhabitants of the Andaman
Islands, on the eastern side of the Gulf of Bengal, are “eminently
susceptible to any change of climate: in fact, take them away from
their island homes, and they are almost certain to die, and that
independently of diet or extraneous influences.” He further states that
the inhabitants of the Valley of Nepal, which is extremely hot in
summer, and also the various hill-tribes of India, suffer from
dysentery and fever when on the plains; and they die if they attempt to
pass the whole year there.
We thus see that many of the wilder races of man are apt to suffer much
in health when subjected to changed conditions or habits of life, and
not exclusively from being transported to a new climate. Mere
alterations in habits, which do not appear injurious in themselves,
seem to have this same effect; and in several cases the children are
particularly liable to suffer. It has often been said, as Mr. Macnamara
remarks, that man can resist with impunity the greatest diversities of
climate and other changes; but this is true only of the civilised
races. Man in his wild condition seems to be in this respect almost as
susceptible as his nearest allies, the anthropoid apes, which have
never yet survived long, when removed from their native country.
Lessened fertility from changed conditions, as in the case of the
Tasmanians, Maories, Sandwich Islanders, and apparently the
Australians, is still more interesting than their liability to
ill-health and death; for even a slight degree of infertility, combined
with those other causes which tend to check the increase of every
population, would sooner or later lead to extinction. The diminution of
fertility may be explained in some cases by the profligacy of the women
(as until lately with the Tahitians), but Mr. Fenton has shewn that
this explanation by no means suffices with the New Zealanders, nor does
it with the Tasmanians.
In the paper above quoted, Mr. Macnamara gives reasons for believing
that the inhabitants of districts subject to malaria are apt to be
sterile; but this cannot apply in several of the above cases. Some
writers have suggested that the aborigines of islands have suffered in
fertility and health from long continued inter-breeding; but in the
above cases infertility has coincided too closely with the arrival of
Europeans for us to admit this explanation. Nor have we at present any
reason to believe that man is highly sensitive to the evil effects of
inter-breeding, especially in areas so large as New Zealand, and the
Sandwich archipelago with its diversified stations. On the contrary, it
is known that the present inhabitants of Norfolk Island are nearly all
cousins or near relations, as are the Todas in India, and the
inhabitants of some of the Western Islands of Scotland; and yet they
seem not to have suffered in fertility. (45. On the close relationship
of the Norfolk Islanders, Sir W. Denison, ‘Varieties of Vice-Regal
Life,’ vol. i. 1870, p. 410. For the Todas, see Col. Marshall’s work
1873, p. 110. For the Western Islands of Scotland, Dr. Mitchell,
‘Edinburgh Medical Journal,’ March to June, 1865.)
A much more probable view is suggested by the analogy of the lower
animals. The reproductive system can be shewn to be susceptible to an
extraordinary degree (though why we know not) to changed conditions of
life; and this susceptibility leads both to beneficial and to evil
results. A large collection of facts on this subject is given in chap.
xviii. of vol. ii. of my ‘Variation of Animals and Plants under
Domestication.’ I can here give only the briefest abstract; and every
one interested in the subject may consult the above work. Very slight
changes increase the health, vigour, and fertility of most or all
organic beings, whilst other changes are known to render a large number
of animals sterile. One of the most familiar cases, is that of tamed
elephants not breeding in India; though they often breed in Ava, where
the females are allowed to roam about the forests to some extent, and
are thus placed under more natural conditions. The case of various
American monkeys, both sexes of which have been kept for many years
together in their own countries, and yet have very rarely or never
bred, is a more apposite instance, because of their relationship to
man. It is remarkable how slight a change in the conditions often
induces sterility in a wild animal when captured; and this is the more
strange as all our domesticated animals have become more fertile than
they were in a state of nature; and some of them can resist the most
unnatural conditions with undiminished fertility. (46. For the evidence
on this head, see ‘Variation of Animals,’ etc., vol. ii. p. 111.)
Certain groups of animals are much more liable than others to be
affected by captivity; and generally all the species of the same group
are affected in the same manner. But sometimes a single species in a
group is rendered sterile, whilst the others are not so; on the other
hand, a single species may retain its fertility whilst most of the
others fail to breed. The males and females of some species when
confined, or when allowed to live almost, but not quite free, in their
native country, never unite; others thus circumstanced frequently unite
but never produce offspring; others again produce some offspring, but
fewer than in a state of nature; and as bearing on the above cases of
man, it is important to remark that the young are apt to be weak and
sickly, or malformed, and to perish at an early age.
Seeing how general is this law of the susceptibility of the
reproductive system to changed conditions of life, and that it holds
good with our nearest allies, the Quadrumana, I can hardly doubt that
it applies to man in his primeval state. Hence if savages of any race
are induced suddenly to change their habits of life, they become more
or less sterile, and their young offspring suffer in health, in the
same manner and from the same cause, as do the elephant and
hunting-leopard in India, many monkeys in America, and a host of
animals of all kinds, on removal from their natural conditions.
We can see why it is that aborigines, who have long inhabited islands,
and who must have been long exposed to nearly uniform conditions,
should be specially affected by any change in their habits, as seems to
be the case. Civilised races can certainly resist changes of all kinds
far better than savages; and in this respect they resemble domesticated
animals, for though the latter sometimes suffer in health (for instance
European dogs in India), yet they are rarely rendered sterile, though a
few such instances have been recorded. (47. ‘Variation of Animals,’
etc., vol. ii. p. 16.) The immunity of civilised races and domesticated
animals is probably due to their having been subjected to a greater
extent, and therefore having grown somewhat more accustomed, to
diversified or varying conditions, than the majority of wild animals;
and to their having formerly immigrated or been carried from country to
country, and to different families or sub-races having inter-crossed.
It appears that a cross with civilised races at once gives to an
aboriginal race an immunity from the evil consequences of changed
conditions. Thus the crossed offspring from the Tahitians and English,
when settled in Pitcairn Island, increased so rapidly that the island
was soon overstocked; and in June 1856 they were removed to Norfolk
Island. They then consisted of 60 married persons and 134 children,
making a total of 194. Here they likewise increased so rapidly, that
although sixteen of them returned to Pitcairn Island in 1859, they
numbered in January 1868, 300 souls; the males and females being in
exactly equal numbers. What a contrast does this case present with that
of the Tasmanians; the Norfolk Islanders INCREASED in only twelve and a
half years from 194 to 300; whereas the Tasmanians DECREASED during
fifteen years from 120 to 46, of which latter number only ten were
children. (48. These details are taken from ‘The Mutineers of the
“Bounty,”’ by Lady Belcher, 1870; and from ‘Pitcairn Island,’ ordered
to be printed by the House of Commons, May 29, 1863. The following
statements about the Sandwich Islanders are from the ‘Honolulu
Gazette,’ and from Mr. Coan.)
So again in the interval between the census of 1866 and 1872 the
natives of full blood in the Sandwich Islands decreased by 8081, whilst
the half-castes, who are believed to be healthier, increased by 847;
but I do not know whether the latter number includes the offspring from
the half-castes, or only the half-castes of the first generation.
The cases which I have here given all relate to aborigines, who have
been subjected to new conditions as the result of the immigration of
civilised men. But sterility and ill-health would probably follow, if
savages were compelled by any cause, such as the inroad of a conquering
tribe, to desert their homes and to change their habits. It is an
interesting circumstance that the chief check to wild animals becoming
domesticated, which implies the power of their breeding freely when
first captured, and one chief check to wild men, when brought into
contact with civilisation, surviving to form a civilised race, is the
same, namely, sterility from changed conditions of life.
Finally, although the gradual decrease and ultimate extinction of the
races of man is a highly complex problem, depending on many causes
which differ in different places and at different times; it is the same
problem as that presented by the extinction of one of the higher
animals—of the fossil horse, for instance, which disappeared from South
America, soon afterwards to be replaced, within the same districts, by
countless troups of the Spanish horse. The New Zealander seems
conscious of this parallelism, for he compares his future fate with
that of the native rat now almost exterminated by the European rat.
Though the difficulty is great to our imagination, and really great, if
we wish to ascertain the precise causes and their manner of action, it
ought not to be so to our reason, as long as we keep steadily in mind
that the increase of each species and each race is constantly checked
in various ways; so that if any new check, even a slight one, be
superadded, the race will surely decrease in number; and decreasing
numbers will sooner or later lead to extinction; the end, in most
cases, being promptly determined by the inroads of conquering tribes.
ON THE FORMATION OF THE RACES OF MAN.
In some cases the crossing of distinct races has led to the formation
of a new race. The singular fact that the Europeans and Hindoos, who
belong to the same Aryan stock, and speak a language fundamentally the
same, differ widely in appearance, whilst Europeans differ but little
from Jews, who belong to the Semitic stock, and speak quite another
language, has been accounted for by Broca (49. ‘On Anthropology,’
translation, ‘Anthropological Review,’ Jan. 1868, p. 38.), through
certain Aryan branches having been largely crossed by indigenous tribes
during their wide diffusion. When two races in close contact cross, the
first result is a heterogeneous mixture: thus Mr. Hunter, in describing
the Santali or hill-tribes of India, says that hundreds of
imperceptible gradations may be traced “from the black, squat tribes of
the mountains to the tall olive-coloured Brahman, with his intellectual
brow, calm eyes, and high but narrow head”; so that it is necessary in
courts of justice to ask the witnesses whether they are Santalis or
Hindoos. (50. ‘The Annals of Rural Bengal,’ 1868, p. 134.) Whether a
heterogeneous people, such as the inhabitants of some of the Polynesian
islands, formed by the crossing of two distinct races, with few or no
pure members left, would ever become homogeneous, is not known from
direct evidence. But as with our domesticated animals, a cross-breed
can certainly be fixed and made uniform by careful selection (51. ‘The
Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication,’ vol. ii. p. 95.)
in the course of a few generations, we may infer that the free
intercrossing of a heterogeneous mixture during a long descent would
supply the place of selection, and overcome any tendency to reversion;
so that the crossed race would ultimately become homogeneous, though it
might not partake in an equal degree of the characters of the two
parent-races.
Of all the differences between the races of man, the colour of the skin
is the most conspicuous and one of the best marked. It was formerly
thought that differences of this kind could be accounted for by long
exposure to different climates; but Pallas first shewed that this is
not tenable, and he has since been followed by almost all
anthropologists. (52. Pallas, ‘Act. Acad. St. Petersburg,’ 1780, part
ii. p. 69. He was followed by Rudolphi, in his ‘Beytrage zur
Anthropologie,’ 1812. An excellent summary of the evidence is given by
Godron, ‘De l’Espèce,’ 1859, vol. ii. p. 246, etc.) This view has been
rejected chiefly because the distribution of the variously coloured
races, most of whom must have long inhabited their present homes, does
not coincide with corresponding differences of climate. Some little
weight may be given to such cases as that of the Dutch families, who,
as we hear on excellent authority (53. Sir Andrew Smith, as quoted by
Knox, ‘Races of Man,’ 1850, p. 473.), have not undergone the least
change of colour after residing for three centuries in South Africa. An
argument on the same side may likewise be drawn from the uniform
appearance in various parts of the world of gipsies and Jews, though
the uniformity of the latter has been somewhat exaggerated. (54. See De
Quatrefages on this head, ‘Revue des Cours Scientifiques,’ Oct. 17,
1868, p. 731.) A very damp or a very dry atmosphere has been supposed
to be more influential in modifying the colour of the skin than mere
heat; but as D’Orbigny in South America, and Livingstone in Africa,
arrived at diametrically opposite conclusions with respect to dampness
and dryness, any conclusion on this head must be considered as very
doubtful. (55. Livingstone’s ‘Travels and Researches in S. Africa,’
1857, pp. 338, 339. D’Orbigny, as quoted by Godron, ‘De l’Espece,’ vol.
ii. p. 266.)
Various facts, which I have given elsewhere, prove that the colour of
the skin and hair is sometimes correlated in a surprising manner with a
complete immunity from the action of certain vegetable poisons, and
from the attacks of certain parasites. Hence it occurred to me, that
negroes and other dark races might have acquired their dark tints by
the darker individuals escaping from the deadly influence of the miasma
of their native countries, during a long series of generations.
I afterwards found that this same idea had long ago occurred to Dr.
Wells. (56. See a paper read before the Royal Soc. in 1813, and
published in his Essays in 1818. I have given an account of Dr. Wells’
views in the Historical Sketch (p. xvi.) to my ‘Origin of Species.’
Various cases of colour correlated with constitutional peculiarities
are given in my ‘Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication,’
vol. ii. pp. 227, 335.) It has long been known that negroes, and even
mulattoes, are almost completely exempt from the yellow-fever, so
destructive in tropical America. (57. See, for instance, Nott and
Gliddon, ‘Types of Mankind,’ p. 68.) They likewise escape to a large
extent the fatal intermittent fevers, that prevail along at least 2600
miles of the shores of Africa, and which annually cause one-fifth of
the white settlers to die, and another fifth to return home invalided.
(58. Major Tulloch, in a paper read before the Statistical Society,
April 20, 1840, and given in the ‘Athenaeum,’ 1840, p. 353.) This
immunity in the negro seems to be partly inherent, depending on some
unknown peculiarity of constitution, and partly the result of
acclimatisation. Pouchet (59. ‘The Plurality of the Human Race’
(translat.), 1864, p. 60.) states that the negro regiments recruited
near the Soudan, and borrowed from the Viceroy of Egypt for the Mexican
war, escaped the yellow-fever almost equally with the negroes
originally brought from various parts of Africa and accustomed to the
climate of the West Indies. That acclimatisation plays a part, is shewn
by the many cases in which negroes have become somewhat liable to
tropical fevers, after having resided for some time in a colder
climate. (60. Quatrefages, ‘Unité de l’Espèce Humaine,’ 1861, p. 205.
Waitz, ‘Introduction to Anthropology,’ translat., vol. i. 1863, p. 124.
Livingstone gives analogous cases in his ‘Travels.’) The nature of the
climate under which the white races have long resided, likewise has
some influence on them; for during the fearful epidemic of yellow fever
in Demerara during 1837, Dr. Blair found that the death-rate of the
immigrants was proportional to the latitude of the country whence they
had come. With the negro the immunity, as far as it is the result of
acclimatisation, implies exposure during a prodigious length of time;
for the aborigines of tropical America who have resided there from time
immemorial, are not exempt from yellow fever; and the Rev. H.B.
Tristram states, that there are districts in Northern Africa which the
native inhabitants are compelled annually to leave, though the negroes
can remain with safety.
That the immunity of the negro is in any degree correlated with the
colour of his skin is a mere conjecture: it may be correlated with some
difference in his blood, nervous system, or other tissues.
Nevertheless, from the facts above alluded to, and from some connection
apparently existing between complexion and a tendency to consumption,
the conjecture seemed to me not improbable. Consequently I endeavoured,
with but little success (61. In the spring of 1862 I obtained
permission from the Director-General of the Medical department of the
Army, to transmit to the surgeons of the various regiments on foreign
service a blank table, with the following appended remarks, but I have
received no returns. “As several well-marked cases have been recorded
with our domestic animals of a relation between the colour of the
dermal appendages and the constitution; and it being notorious that
there is some limited degree of relation between the colour of the
races of man and the climate inhabited by them; the following
investigation seems worth consideration. Namely, whether there is any
relation in Europeans between the colour of their hair, and their
liability to the diseases of tropical countries. If the surgeons of the
several regiments, when stationed in unhealthy tropical districts,
would be so good as first to count, as a standard of comparison, how
many men, in the force whence the sick are drawn, have dark and
light-coloured hair, and hair of intermediate or doubtful tints; and if
a similar account were kept by the same medical gentlemen, of all the
men who suffered from malarious and yellow fevers, or from dysentery,
it would soon be apparent, after some thousand cases had been
tabulated, whether there exists any relation between the colour of the
hair and constitutional liability to tropical diseases. Perhaps no such
relation would be discovered, but the investigation is well worth
making. In case any positive result were obtained, it might be of some
practical use in selecting men for any particular service.
Theoretically the result would be of high interest, as indicating one
means by which a race of men inhabiting from a remote period an
unhealthy tropical climate, might have become dark-coloured by the
better preservation of dark-haired or dark-complexioned individuals
during a long succession of generations.”), to ascertain how far it
holds good. The late Dr. Daniell, who had long lived on the West Coast
of Africa, told me that he did not believe in any such relation. He was
himself unusually fair, and had withstood the climate in a wonderful
manner. When he first arrived as a boy on the coast, an old and
experienced negro chief predicted from his appearance that this would
prove the case. Dr. Nicholson, of Antigua, after having attended to
this subject, writes to me that dark-coloured Europeans escape the
yellow fever more than those that are light-coloured. Mr. J.M. Harris
altogether denies that Europeans with dark hair withstand a hot climate
better than other men: on the contrary, experience has taught him in
making a selection of men for service on the coast of Africa, to choose
those with red hair. (62. ‘Anthropological Review,’ Jan. 1866, p. xxi.
Dr. Sharpe also says, with respect to India (‘Man a Special Creation,’
1873, p. 118), “that it has been noticed by some medical officers that
Europeans with light hair and florid complexions suffer less from
diseases of tropical countries than persons with dark hair and sallow
complexions; and, so far as I know, there appear to be good grounds for
this remark.” On the other hand, Mr. Heddle, of Sierra Leone, “who has
had more clerks killed under him than any other man,” by the climate of
the West African Coast (W. Reade, ‘African Sketch Book,’ vol. ii. p.
522), holds a directly opposite view, as does Capt. Burton.) As far,
therefore, as these slight indications go, there seems no foundation
for the hypothesis, that blackness has resulted from the darker and
darker individuals having survived better during long exposure to
fever-generating miasma.
Dr. Sharpe remarks (63. ‘Man a Special Creation,’ 1873, p. 119.), that
a tropical sun, which burns and blisters a white skin, does not injure
a black one at all; and, as he adds, this is not due to habit in the
individual, for children only six or eight months old are often carried
about naked, and are not affected. I have been assured by a medical
man, that some years ago during each summer, but not during the winter,
his hands became marked with light brown patches, like, although larger
than freckles, and that these patches were never affected by
sun-burning, whilst the white parts of his skin have on several
occasions been much inflamed and blistered. With the lower animals
there is, also, a constitutional difference in liability to the action
of the sun between those parts of the skin clothed with white hair and
other parts. (64. ‘Variation of Animals and Plants under
Domestication,’ vol. ii. pp. 336, 337.) Whether the saving of the skin
from being thus burnt is of sufficient importance to account for a dark
tint having been gradually acquired by man through natural selection, I
am unable to judge. If it be so, we should have to assume that the
natives of tropical America have lived there for a much shorter time
than the Negroes in Africa, or the Papuans in the southern parts of the
Malay archipelago, just as the lighter-coloured Hindoos have resided in
India for a shorter time than the darker aborigines of the central and
southern parts of the peninsula.
Although with our present knowledge we cannot account for the
differences of colour in the races of man, through any advantage thus
gained, or from the direct action of climate; yet we must not quite
ignore the latter agency, for there is good reason to believe that some
inherited effect is thus produced. (65. See, for instance, Quatrefages
(‘Revue des Cours Scientifiques,’ Oct. 10, 1868, p. 724) on the effects
of residence in Abyssinia and Arabia, and other analogous cases. Dr.
Rolle (‘Der Mensch, seine Abstammung,’ etc., 1865, s. 99) states, on
the authority of Khanikof, that the greater number of German families
settled in Georgia, have acquired in the course of two generations dark
hair and eyes. Mr. D. Forbes informs me that the Quichuas in the Andes
vary greatly in colour, according to the position of the valleys
inhabited by them.)
We have seen in the second chapter that the conditions of life affect
the development of the bodily frame in a direct manner, and that the
effects are transmitted. Thus, as is generally admitted, the European
settlers in the United States undergo a slight but extraordinary rapid
change of appearance. Their bodies and limbs become elongated; and I
hear from Col. Bernys that during the late war in the United States,
good evidence was afforded of this fact by the ridiculous appearance
presented by the German regiments, when dressed in ready-made clothes
manufactured for the American market, and which were much too long for
the men in every way. There is, also, a considerable body of evidence
shewing that in the Southern States the house-slaves of the third
generation present a markedly different appearance from the
field-slaves. (66. Harlan, ‘Medical Researches,’ p. 532. Quatrefages
(‘Unité de l’Espèce Humaine,’ 1861, p. 128) has collected much evidence
on this head.)
If, however, we look to the races of man as distributed over the world,
we must infer that their characteristic differences cannot be accounted
for by the direct action of different conditions of life, even after
exposure to them for an enormous period of time. The Esquimaux live
exclusively on animal food; they are clothed in thick fur, and are
exposed to intense cold and to prolonged darkness; yet they do not
differ in any extreme degree from the inhabitants of Southern China,
who live entirely on vegetable food, and are exposed almost naked to a
hot, glaring climate. The unclothed Fuegians live on the marine
productions of their inhospitable shores; the Botocudos of Brazil
wander about the hot forests of the interior and live chiefly on
vegetable productions; yet these tribes resemble each other so closely
that the Fuegians on board the “Beagle” were mistaken by some
Brazilians for Botocudos. The Botocudos again, as well as the other
inhabitants of tropical America, are wholly different from the Negroes
who inhabit the opposite shores of the Atlantic, are exposed to a
nearly similar climate, and follow nearly the same habits of life.
Nor can the differences between the races of man be accounted for by
the inherited effects of the increased or decreased use of parts,
except to a quite insignificant degree. Men who habitually live in
canoes, may have their legs somewhat stunted; those who inhabit lofty
regions may have their chests enlarged; and those who constantly use
certain sense-organs may have the cavities in which they are lodged
somewhat increased in size, and their features consequently a little
modified. With civilised nations, the reduced size of the jaws from
lessened use—the habitual play of different muscles serving to express
different emotions—and the increased size of the brain from greater
intellectual activity, have together produced a considerable effect on
their general appearance when compared with savages. (67. See Prof.
Schaaffhausen, translat., in ‘Anthropological Review,’ Oct. 1868, p.
429.) Increased bodily stature, without any corresponding increase in
the size of the brain, may (judging from the previously adduced case of
rabbits), have given to some races an elongated skull of the
dolichocephalic type.
Lastly, the little-understood principle of correlated development has
sometimes come into action, as in the case of great muscular
development and strongly projecting supra-orbital ridges. The colour of
the skin and hair are plainly correlated, as is the texture of the hair
with its colour in the Mandans of North America. (68. Mr. Catlin states
(‘N. American Indians,’ 3rd ed., 1842, vol. i. p. 49) that in the whole
tribe of the Mandans, about one in ten or twelve of the members, of all
ages and both sexes, have bright silvery grey hair, which is
hereditary. Now this hair is as coarse and harsh as that of a horse’s
mane, whilst the hair of other colours is fine and soft.) The colour
also of the skin, and the odour emitted by it, are likewise in some
manner connected. With the breeds of sheep the number of hairs within a
given space and the number of excretory pores are related. (69. On the
odour of the skin, Godron, ‘Sur l’Espèce,’ tom. ii. p. 217. On the
pores in the skin, Dr. Wilckens, ‘Die Aufgaben der Landwirth.
Zootechnik,’ 1869, s. 7.) If we may judge from the analogy of our
domesticated animals, many modifications of structure in man probably
come under this principle of correlated development.
We have now seen that the external characteristic differences between
the races of man cannot be accounted for in a satisfactory manner by
the direct action of the conditions of life, nor by the effects of the
continued use of parts, nor through the principle of correlation. We
are therefore led to enquire whether slight individual differences, to
which man is eminently liable, may not have been preserved and
augmented during a long series of generations through natural
selection. But here we are at once met by the objection that beneficial
variations alone can be thus preserved; and as far as we are enabled to
judge, although always liable to err on this head, none of the
differences between the races of man are of any direct or special
service to him. The intellectual and moral or social faculties must of
course be excepted from this remark. The great variability of all the
external differences between the races of man, likewise indicates that
they cannot be of much importance; for if important, they would long
ago have been either fixed and preserved, or eliminated. In this
respect man resembles those forms, called by naturalists protean or
polymorphic, which have remained extremely variable, owing, as it
seems, to such variations being of an indifferent nature, and to their
having thus escaped the action of natural selection.
We have thus far been baffled in all our attempts to account for the
differences between the races of man; but there remains one important
agency, namely Sexual Selection, which appears to have acted powerfully
on man, as on many other animals. I do not intend to assert that sexual
selection will account for all the differences between the races. An
unexplained residuum is left, about which we can only say, in our
ignorance, that as individuals are continually born with, for instance,
heads a little rounder or narrower, and with noses a little longer or
shorter, such slight differences might become fixed and uniform, if the
unknown agencies which induced them were to act in a more constant
manner, aided by long-continued intercrossing. Such variations come
under the provisional class, alluded to in our second chapter, which
for want of a better term are often called spontaneous. Nor do I
pretend that the effects of sexual selection can be indicated with
scientific precision; but it can be shewn that it would be an
inexplicable fact if man had not been modified by this agency, which
appears to have acted powerfully on innumerable animals. It can further
be shewn that the differences between the races of man, as in colour,
hairiness, form of features, etc., are of a kind which might have been
expected to come under the influence of sexual selection. But in order
to treat this subject properly, I have found it necessary to pass the
whole animal kingdom in review. I have therefore devoted to it the
Second Part of this work. At the close I shall return to man, and,
after attempting to shew how far he has been modified through sexual
selection, will give a brief summary of the chapters in this First
Part.
NOTE ON THE RESEMBLANCES AND DIFFERENCES IN THE STRUCTURE AND THE
DEVELOPMENT OF THE BRAIN IN MAN AND APES BY PROFESSOR HUXLEY, F.R.S.
The controversy respecting the nature and the extent of the differences
in the structure of the brain in man and the apes, which arose some
fifteen years ago, has not yet come to an end, though the subject
matter of the dispute is, at present, totally different from what it
was formerly. It was originally asserted and re-asserted, with singular
pertinacity, that the brain of all the apes, even the highest, differs
from that of man, in the absence of such conspicuous structures as the
posterior lobes of the cerebral hemispheres, with the posterior cornu
of the lateral ventricle and the hippocampus minor, contained in those
lobes, which are so obvious in man.
But the truth that the three structures in question are as well
developed in apes’ as in human brains, or even better; and that it is
characteristic of all the Primates (if we exclude the Lemurs) to have
these parts well developed, stands at present on as secure a basis as
any proposition in comparative anatomy. Moreover, it is admitted by
every one of the long series of anatomists who, of late years, have
paid special attention to the arrangement of the complicated sulci and
gyri which appear upon the surface of the cerebral hemispheres in man
and the higher apes, that they are disposed after the very same pattern
in him, as in them. Every principal gyrus and sulcus of a chimpanzee’s
brain is clearly represented in that of a man, so that the terminology
which applies to the one answers for the other. On this point there is
no difference of opinion. Some years since, Professor Bischoff
published a memoir (70. ‘Die Grosshirn-Windungen des Menschen;’
‘Abhandlungen der K. Bayerischen Akademie,’ B. x. 1868.) on the
cerebral convolutions of man and apes; and as the purpose of my learned
colleague was certainly not to diminish the value of the differences
between apes and men in this respect, I am glad to make a citation from
him.
“That the apes, and especially the orang, chimpanzee and gorilla, come
very close to man in their organisation, much nearer than to any other
animal, is a well known fact, disputed by nobody. Looking at the matter
from the point of view of organisation alone, no one probably would
ever have disputed the view of Linnaeus, that man should be placed,
merely as a peculiar species, at the head of the mammalia and of those
apes. Both shew, in all their organs, so close an affinity, that the
most exact anatomical investigation is needed in order to demonstrate
those differences which really exist. So it is with the brains. The
brains of man, the orang, the chimpanzee, the gorilla, in spite of all
the important differences which they present, come very close to one
another” (loc. cit. p. 101).
There remains, then, no dispute as to the resemblance in fundamental
characters, between the ape’s brain and man’s: nor any as to the
wonderfully close similarity between the chimpanzee, orang and man, in
even the details of the arrangement of the gyri and sulci of the
cerebral hemispheres. Nor, turning to the differences between the
brains of the highest apes and that of man, is there any serious
question as to the nature and extent of these differences. It is
admitted that the man’s cerebral hemispheres are absolutely and
relatively larger than those of the orang and chimpanzee; that his
frontal lobes are less excavated by the upward protrusion of the roof
of the orbits; that his gyri and sulci are, as a rule, less
symmetrically disposed, and present a greater number of secondary
plications. And it is admitted that, as a rule, in man, the
temporo-occipital or “external perpendicular” fissure, which is usually
so strongly marked a feature of the ape’s brain is but faintly marked.
But it is also clear, that none of these differences constitutes a
sharp demarcation between the man’s and the ape’s brain. In respect to
the external perpendicular fissure of Gratiolet, in the human brain for
instance, Professor Turner remarks: (71. ‘Convolutions of the Human
Cerebrum Topographically Considered,’ 1866, p. 12.)
“In some brains it appears simply as an indentation of the margin of
the hemisphere, but, in others, it extends for some distance more or
less transversely outwards. I saw it in the right hemisphere of a
female brain pass more than two inches outwards; and on another
specimen, also the right hemisphere, it proceeded for four-tenths of an
inch outwards, and then extended downwards, as far as the lower margin
of the outer surface of the hemisphere. The imperfect definition of
this fissure in the majority of human brains, as compared with its
remarkable distinctness in the brain of most Quadrumana, is owing to
the presence, in the former, of certain superficial, well marked,
secondary convolutions which bridge it over and connect the parietal
with the occipital lobe. The closer the first of these bridging gyri
lies to the longitudinal fissure, the shorter is the external
parieto-occipital fissure” (loc. cit. p. 12).
The obliteration of the external perpendicular fissure of Gratiolet,
therefore, is not a constant character of the human brain. On the other
hand, its full development is not a constant character of the higher
ape’s brain. For, in the chimpanzee, the more or less extensive
obliteration of the external perpendicular sulcus by “bridging
convolutions,” on one side or the other, has been noted over and over
again by Prof. Rolleston, Mr. Marshall, M. Broca and Professor Turner.
At the conclusion of a special paper on this subject the latter writes:
(72. Notes more especially on the bridging convolutions in the Brain of
the Chimpanzee, ‘Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh,’
1865-6.)
“The three specimens of the brain of a chimpanzee, just described,
prove, that the generalisation which Gratiolet has attempted to draw of
the complete absence of the first connecting convolution and the
concealment of the second, as essentially characteristic features in
the brain of this animal, is by no means universally applicable. In
only one specimen did the brain, in these particulars, follow the law
which Gratiolet has expressed. As regards the presence of the superior
bridging convolution, I am inclined to think that it has existed in one
hemisphere, at least, in a majority of the brains of this animal which
have, up to this time, been figured or described. The superficial
position of the second bridging convolution is evidently less frequent,
and has as yet, I believe, only been seen in the brain (A) recorded in
this communication. The asymmetrical arrangement in the convolutions of
the two hemispheres, which previous observers have referred to in their
descriptions, is also well illustrated in these specimens” (pp. 8, 9).
Even were the presence of the temporo-occipital, or external
perpendicular, sulcus, a mark of distinction between the higher apes
and man, the value of such a distinctive character would be rendered
very doubtful by the structure of the brain in the Platyrrhine apes. In
fact, while the temporo-occipital is one of the most constant of sulci
in the Catarrhine, or Old World, apes, it is never very strongly
developed in the New World apes; it is absent in the smaller
Platyrrhini; rudimentary in Pithecia (73. Flower, ‘On the Anatomy of
Pithecia Monachus,’ ‘Proceedings of the Zoological Society,’ 1862.);
and more or less obliterated by bridging convolutions in Ateles.
A character which is thus variable within the limits of a single group
can have no great taxonomic value.
It is further established, that the degree of asymmetry of the
convolution of the two sides in the human brain is subject to much
individual variation; and that, in those individuals of the Bushman
race who have been examined, the gyri and sulci of the two hemispheres
are considerably less complicated and more symmetrical than in the
European brain, while, in some individuals of the chimpanzee, their
complexity and asymmetry become notable. This is particularly the case
in the brain of a young male chimpanzee figured by M. Broca. (‘L’ordre
des Primates,’ p. 165, fig. 11.)
Again, as respects the question of absolute size, it is established
that the difference between the largest and the smallest healthy human
brain is greater than the difference between the smallest healthy human
brain and the largest chimpanzee’s or orang’s brain.
Moreover, there is one circumstance in which the orang’s and
chimpanzee’s brains resemble man’s, but in which they differ from the
lower apes, and that is the presence of two corpora candicantia—the
Cynomorpha having but one.
In view of these facts I do not hesitate in this year 1874, to repeat
and insist upon the proposition which I enunciated in 1863: (74. ‘Man’s
Place in Nature,’ p. 102.)
“So far as cerebral structure goes, therefore, it is clear that man
differs less from the chimpanzee or the orang, than these do even from
the monkeys, and that the difference between the brain of the
chimpanzee and of man is almost insignificant when compared with that
between the chimpanzee brain and that of a Lemur.”
In the paper to which I have referred, Professor Bischoff does not deny
the second part of this statement, but he first makes the irrelevant
remark that it is not wonderful if the brains of an orang and a Lemur
are very different; and secondly, goes on to assert that, “If we
successively compare the brain of a man with that of an orang; the
brain of this with that of a chimpanzee; of this with that of a
gorilla, and so on of a Hylobates, Semnopithecus, Cynocephalus,
Cercopithecus, Macacus, Cebus, Callithrix, Lemur, Stenops, Hapale, we
shall not meet with a greater, or even as great a, break in the degree
of development of the convolutions, as we find between the brain of a
man and that of an orang or chimpanzee.”
To which I reply, firstly, that whether this assertion be true or
false, it has nothing whatever to do with the proposition enunciated in
‘Man’s Place in Nature,’ which refers not to the development of the
convolutions alone, but to the structure of the whole brain. If
Professor Bischoff had taken the trouble to refer to p. 96 of the work
he criticises, in fact, he would have found the following passage: “And
it is a remarkable circumstance that though, so far as our present
knowledge extends, there IS one true structural break in the series of
forms of Simian brains, this hiatus does not lie between man and the
manlike apes, but between the lower and the lowest Simians, or in other
words, between the Old and New World apes and monkeys and the Lemurs.
Every Lemur which has yet been examined, in fact, has its cerebellum
partially visible from above; and its posterior lobe, with the
contained posterior cornu and hippocampus minor, more or less
rudimentary. Every marmoset, American monkey, Old World monkey, baboon
or manlike ape, on the contrary, has its cerebellum entirely hidden,
posteriorly, by the cerebral lobes, and possesses a large posterior
cornu with a well-developed hippocampus minor.”
This statement was a strictly accurate account of what was known when
it was made; and it does not appear to me to be more than apparently
weakened by the subsequent discovery of the relatively small
development of the posterior lobes in the Siamang and in the Howling
monkey. Notwithstanding the exceptional brevity of the posterior lobes
in these two species, no one will pretend that their brains, in the
slightest degree, approach those of the Lemurs. And if, instead of
putting Hapale out of its natural place, as Professor Bischoff most
unaccountably does, we write the series of animals he has chosen to
mention as follows: Homo, Pithecus, Troglodytes, Hylobates,
Semnopithecus, Cynocephalus, Cercopithecus, Macacus, Cebus, Callithrix,
Hapale, Lemur, Stenops, I venture to reaffirm that the great break in
this series lies between Hapale and Lemur, and that this break is
considerably greater than that between any other two terms of that
series. Professor Bischoff ignores the fact that long before he wrote,
Gratiolet had suggested the separation of the Lemurs from the other
Primates on the very ground of the difference in their cerebral
characters; and that Professor Flower had made the following
observations in the course of his description of the brain of the Javan
Loris: (75. ‘Transactions of the Zoological Society,’ vol. v. 1862.)
“And it is especially remarkable that, in the development of the
posterior lobes, there is no approximation to the Lemurine, short
hemisphered brain, in those monkeys which are commonly supposed to
approach this family in other respects, viz. the lower members of the
Platyrrhine group.”
So far as the structure of the adult brain is concerned, then, the very
considerable additions to our knowledge, which have been made by the
researches of so many investigators, during the past ten years, fully
justify the statement which I made in 1863. But it has been said, that,
admitting the similarity between the adult brains of man and apes, they
are nevertheless, in reality, widely different, because they exhibit
fundamental differences in the mode of their development. No one would
be more ready than I to admit the force of this argument, if such
fundamental differences of development really exist. But I deny that
they do exist. On the contrary, there is a fundamental agreement in the
development of the brain in men and apes.
Gratiolet originated the statement that there is a fundamental
difference in the development of the brains of apes and that of
man—consisting in this; that, in the apes, the sulci which first make
their appearance are situated on the posterior region of the cerebral
hemispheres, while, in the human foetus, the sulci first become visible
on the frontal lobes. (76. Chez tous les singes, les plis postérieurs
se developpent les premiers; les plis antérieurs se developpent plus
tard, aussi la vertèbre occipitale et la parietale sont-elles
relativement tres-grandes chez le foetus. L’Homme présente une
exception remarquable quant a l’époque de l’apparition des plis
frontaux, qui sont les premiers indiqués; mais le développement general
du lobe frontal, envisagé seulement par rapport a son volume, suit les
mêmes lois que dans les singes: Gratiolet, ‘Mémoire sur les plis
cérèbres de l’Homme et des Primateaux,’ p. 39, Tab. iv, fig. 3.)
This general statement is based upon two observations, the one of a
Gibbon almost ready to be born, in which the posterior gyri were “well
developed,” while those of the frontal lobes were “hardly indicated”
(77. Gratiolet’s words are (loc. cit. p. 39): “Dans le foetus dont il
s’agit les plis cérébraux posterieurs sont bien developpés, tandis que
les plis du lobe frontal sont a peine indiqués.” The figure, however
(Pl. iv, fig. 3), shews the fissure of Rolando, and one of the frontal
sulci plainly enough. Nevertheless, M. Alix, in his ‘Notice sur les
travaux anthropologiques de Gratiolet’ (‘Mem. de la Societé
d’Anthropologie de Paris,’ 1868, page 32), writes thus: “Gratiolet a eu
entre les mains le cerveau d’un foetus de Gibbon, singe eminemment
supérieur, et tellement rapproché de l’orang, que des naturalistes
tres-compétents l’ont rangé parmi les anthropoides. M. Huxley, par
exemple, n’hesite pas sur ce point. Eh bien, c’est sur le cerveau d’un
foetus de Gibbon que Gratiolet a vu LES CIRCONVOLUTIONS DU LOBE
TEMPORO-SPHENOIDAL DÉJÀ DEVELOPPÉES LORSQU’IL N’EXISTENT PAS ENCORE DE
PLIS SUR LE LOBE FRONTAL. Il etait donc bien autorisé a dire que, chez
l’homme les circonvolutions apparaissent d’a en w, tandis que chez les
singes elles se developpent d’w en a.”), and the other of a human
foetus at the 22nd or 23rd week of uterogestation, in which Gratiolet
notes that the insula was uncovered, but that nevertheless “des
incisures sement de lobe anterieur, une scissure peu profonde indique
la separation du lobe occipital, tres-reduit, d’ailleurs dès cette
époque. Le reste de la surface cérébrale est encore absolument lisse.”
Three views of this brain are given in Plate II, figs. 1, 2, 3, of the
work cited, shewing the upper, lateral and inferior views of the
hemispheres, but not the inner view. It is worthy of note that the
figure by no means bears out Gratiolet’s description, inasmuch as the
fissure (antero-temporal) on the posterior half of the face of the
hemisphere is more marked than any of those vaguely indicated in the
anterior half. If the figure is correct, it in no way justifies
Gratiolet’s conclusion: “Il y a donc entre ces cerveaux [those of a
Callithrix and of a Gibbon] et celui du foetus humain une différence
fondamental. Chez celui-ci, longtemps avant que les plis temporaux
apparaissent, les plis frontaux, ESSAYENT d’exister.”
Since Gratiolet’s time, however, the development of the gyri and sulci
of the brain has been made the subject of renewed investigation by
Schmidt, Bischoff, Pansch (78. ‘Ueber die typische Anordnung der
Furchen und Windungen auf den Grosshirn-Hemisphären des Menschen und
der Affen,’ ‘Archiv für Anthropologie,’ iii. 1868.), and more
particularly by Ecker (79. ‘Zur Entwicklungs Geschichte der Furchen und
Windungen der Grosshirn-Hemisphären im Foetus des Menschen,’ ‘Archiv
für Anthropologie,’ iii. 1868.), whose work is not only the latest, but
by far the most complete, memoir on the subject.
The final results of their inquiries may be summed up as follows:— 1.
In the human foetus, the sylvian fissure is formed in the course of the
third month of uterogestation. In this, and in the fourth month, the
cerebral hemispheres are smooth and rounded (with the exception of the
sylvian depression), and they project backwards far beyond the
cerebellum.
2. The sulci, properly so called, begin to appear in the interval
between the end of the fourth and the beginning of the sixth month of
foetal life, but Ecker is careful to point out that, not only the time,
but the order, of their appearance is subject to considerable
individual variation. In no case, however, are either the frontal or
the temporal sulci the earliest.
The first which appears, in fact, lies on the inner face of the
hemisphere (whence doubtless Gratiolet, who does not seem to have
examined that face in his foetus, overlooked it), and is either the
internal perpendicular (occipito-parietal), or the calcarine sulcus,
these two being close together and eventually running into one another.
As a rule the occipito-parietal is the earlier of the two.
3. At the latter part of this period, another sulcus, the
“posterio-parietal,” or “Fissure of Rolando” is developed, and it is
followed, in the course of the sixth month, by the other principal
sulci of the frontal, parietal, temporal and occipital lobes. There is,
however, no clear evidence that one of these constantly appears before
the other; and it is remarkable that, in the brain at the period
described and figured by Ecker (loc. cit. pp. 212-213, Taf. II, figs.
1, 2, 3, 4), the antero-temporal sulcus (scissure parallele) so
characteristic of the ape’s brain, is as well, if not better developed
than the fissure of Rolando, and is much more marked than the proper
frontal sulci.
Taking the facts as they now stand, it appears to me that the order of
the appearance of the sulci and gyri in the foetal human brain is in
perfect harmony with the general doctrine of evolution, and with the
view that man has been evolved from some ape-like form; though there
can be no doubt that form was, in many respects, different from any
member of the Primates now living.
Von Baer taught us, half a century ago, that, in the course of their
development, allied animals put on at first, the characters of the
greater groups to which they belong, and, by degrees, assume those
which restrict them within the limits of their family, genus, and
species; and he proved, at the same time, that no developmental stage
of a higher animal is precisely similar to the adult condition of any
lower animal. It is quite correct to say that a frog passes through the
condition of a fish, inasmuch as at one period of its life the tadpole
has all the characters of a fish, and if it went no further, would have
to be grouped among fishes. But it is equally true that a tadpole is
very different from any known fish.
In like manner, the brain of a human foetus, at the fifth month, may
correctly be said to be, not only the brain of an ape, but that of an
Arctopithecine or marmoset-like ape; for its hemispheres, with their
great posterior lobster, and with no sulci but the sylvian and the
calcarine, present the characteristics found only in the group of the
Arctopithecine Primates. But it is equally true, as Gratiolet remarks,
that, in its widely open sylvian fissure, it differs from the brain of
any actual marmoset. No doubt it would be much more similar to the
brain of an advanced foetus of a marmoset. But we know nothing whatever
of the development of the brain in the marmosets. In the Platyrrhini
proper, the only observation with which I am acquainted is due to
Pansch, who found in the brain of a foetal Cebus Apella, in addition to
the sylvian fissure and the deep calcarine fissure, only a very shallow
antero-temporal fissure (scissure parallele of Gratiolet).
Now this fact, taken together with the circumstance that the
antero-temporal sulcus is present in such Platyrrhini as the Saimiri,
which present mere traces of sulci on the anterior half of the exterior
of the cerebral hemispheres, or none at all, undoubtedly, so far as it
goes, affords fair evidence in favour of Gratiolet’s hypothesis, that
the posterior sulci appear before the anterior, in the brains of the
Platyrrhini. But, it by no means follows, that the rule which may hold
good for the Platyrrhini extends to the Catarrhini. We have no
information whatever respecting the development of the brain in the
Cynomorpha; and, as regards the Anthropomorpha, nothing but the account
of the brain of the Gibbon, near birth, already referred to. At the
present moment there is not a shadow of evidence to shew that the sulci
of a chimpanzee’s, or orang’s, brain do not appear in the same order as
a man’s.
Gratiolet opens his preface with the aphorism: “Il est dangereux dans
les sciences de conclure trop vite.” I fear he must have forgotten this
sound maxim by the time he had reached the discussion of the
differences between men and apes, in the body of his work. No doubt,
the excellent author of one of the most remarkable contributions to the
just understanding of the mammalian brain which has ever been made,
would have been the first to admit the insufficiency of his data had he
lived to profit by the advance of inquiry. The misfortune is that his
conclusions have been employed by persons incompetent to appreciate
their foundation, as arguments in favour of obscurantism. (80. For
example, M. l’Abbe Lecomte in his terrible pamphlet, ‘Le Darwinisme et
l’origine de l’Homme,’ 1873.)
But it is important to remark that, whether Gratiolet was right or
wrong in his hypothesis respecting the relative order of appearance of
the temporal and frontal sulci, the fact remains; that before either
temporal or frontal sulci, appear, the foetal brain of man presents
characters which are found only in the lowest group of the Primates
(leaving out the Lemurs); and that this is exactly what we should
expect to be the case, if man has resulted from the gradual
modification of the same form as that from which the other Primates
have sprung.
PART II.
SEXUAL SELECTION.