BOOKS.

MR. DARWIN'S DESCENT OF MAN..

[FIRST NOTICE.] EVEN to readers who are not naturalists, Mr. Darwin's works are full of fascination and instruction. No writer of the day arranges his facts so lucidly, with so unquestionable a sincerity, and BO undisguised a candour when he has difficulties to confess. Though Mr. Darwin has shocked the deepest prejudices and prepossessions, he seems to live in a region far above the temper of controversy, and to aim at nothing but the nearest approach to scientific hypothesis that it is in his power to make. There is not a word of harsh criticism in his volumes, and, as far as a reader can judge, not a trace of disposition to disguise the objections to the views which he is disposed to take. It is hard to conceive of a scientific style at once so dispassionate and so full of intellectual vitality. There is nothing of the dreary prolixity of a mind too full to keep its materials subordinate to the question under discussion, and yet nothing of the dogmatic vehemence of one that cannot bear to doubt the truth of its own conclusions. Every chapter advances the theory of the book, and yet every chapter deepens the confidence of the reader in his author's candour and grasp.

We need hardly say that it is not the object of the present reviewer to criticize Mr. Darwin's scientific statements, which are, no doubt, quite beyond the criticism of any but the most accom- plished naturalists and physiologists,—a kind of criticism which would not be very suitable to these columns. All we now propose to

• The Desceni of Man and Selection in Relation to Ser. By Charles Darwin, M.A., Fit.S., to. 2 vole. Murray.

do is to give some idea of the kind of arguments on which Mr.. Darwin relies for his conclusion that man is to be classed among the order of the Quadrumana, and that the most immediate ances- tor from which we can trace his descent is one of the Catarhine or old-world anthropomorphous apes,—and then to criticize that part of his argument which alone we are competent to criticize, that which professes to account for the extraordinary development of his. moral faculties on the hypothesis of what is called evolution.' Mr..

Darwinpoints out that in the human embryo the difference from the ape does not show itself till quite the later stages of development —the convolutions of the brain, for instance, reaching about the same stage in the human fcetus of seven months' growth as in the- adult ape ; and the great toe, one of the most characteristic- differences between man and the ape, being in the early stages of development projected from the side of the foot at an angle precisely similar to that which marks "the permanent condi- tion of this part in the Quo.drumana." Further, man even in: his maturity has in his body rudimentary organs,—i.e., organs' which are no longer fully developed or useful, and are therefore mere traces of a close physical connection with creatures in which these organs are not rudimentary, but fully developed. Thus man- has a rudimentary tail, sometimes, though rarely, somewhat more- than rudimentary,—has some vestige apparently of the pointed' ear which some of the lower animals erect when listening,—has rudiments of the hair with which they are covered,—and has those- rudimentary muscles (occasionally developed) that give the power

of twitching the skin like a horse. (Mr. Darwin mentions a family in which the power of contracting the superficial muscles- on the scalp still exists to so great an extent that those who

possess it can pitch heavy books from their heads by the twitching-

of the scalp alone.) Man has, again, the rudiment of the third eyelid, or "nictitating membrane," which is not developed in any but the lower mammals, not in any of the quadrumana ; and he has various.

other rudiments of organs fully developed in the lower order of animals, but now useless to man, and mere signs and traces of his ancestry. Mr. Darwin argues that the fact that the embryo.

of a man and of an ape are only distinguishable at the latest stages, and that at still earlier stages of development the- embryos of a man, and of a dog, a seal, a bat, a reptile, are indis-

tinguishable, taken with the fact that even in fully developed men- there are still rudiments of organs found fully developed only

lower down in the order of nature,—in the ape, or the bird, or even the fish,—would be mere "snares laid to entrap our judg- ment," if they are not to be interpreted as implying community of descent. Nor do we see what answer can be made to this argu- ment. If man has no hereditary connection whatever with the- lower order of animals, the stages in which the human embryo-.

seems to anticipate not man as he is, but one of the lower animals,, and the rudimentary traces left in his body of organs like theirs- which are undeveloped, would seem to be a sort of false modesty or mock-humility of nature, a set of intellectual sign-posts advisedly put to lead our understanding astray.

From the traces of physical origin Mr. Darwin passes to the- class of qualities in which the lower orders of animals have least in common with man,—the mental; and has no difficulty in show- ing what all who have attended to the subject have long admitted, that the germs of all our intellectual characteristics and of some at least of our moral characteristics are to be found among the- lower animals. Mr. Darwin holds that the more complex instincts are often found, as in the case of ants and beavers, along with a very high amount of general intelligence ; but he does not deny that very often intelligence supplants instinct, and suggests, as his explanation, that "as the intellectual powers become highly developed, the various parts of the brain must be connected by the most intricate channels of intercommunication ; and as a con- sequence, each separate part would perhaps tend to become less: well fitted to answer in a definite and uniform, that is, instinctive, manner to particular sensations and associations." That explana-

tion, we think, is hardly compatible with the well-known power- of human beings to perform, almost as reflex and involuntary acts,

operations at first requiring the most concentrated intellectual effort,.

—such as the higher feats of music and drawing. As far as we can see, the development of the brain in man gives us a far higher power of executing complex operations once studied and mastered without any effort of attention, and yet with perfect accuracy, than any of the lower animals possesses ; so that it is not easy to sup- pose that we lose instincts from any inadequacy of the brain to

answer "in a definite and uniform, that is, instinctive manner to particular sensations and associations." Rather, we should say, that beings with the power to lay an intellectual basis- for their own instincts, which intellectual basis they can re-

cover at pleasure, are so far superior to beings which have only instincts to which they do not possess the key, that the latter are withdrawn in proportion as the power to con- struct the former is given. For the rest, we have no criticism to pass on Mr. Darwin's interesting evidence for the existence of almost all our intellectual powers in germ among the higher orders of the animals beneath us in general intelligence. Only what Mr. Darwin means by "in germ" and what we mean by "in germ" is, we suspect, somewhat different. The hypothesis of ' evolution ' is to our minds a mere hypothesis of gradual accession and rise ; but the addition of new power is not the leas real because it is gradual ; and it seems to us to be no causal explanation of the high intelligence of man to show that a much lower form of intelligence is found in the animals from which his stock originally diverged, any more than it is a causal explanation of the hand of a man to show that it is in some sense the equivalent of what in a very distant ancestry was used as a foot.

Mr. Darwin's hypothesis as to the evolution of a conscience is, however, to us the most interesting and original speculation of his first part, on the Descent of Man. It seems to us a remarkable proof of the depth and width of his genius that the greatest of our naturalists should come what seems to us so much nearer the kernel of the psychological problem, than many of his eminent predecessors who have given their chief attention to the relation between psychology and physiology.

Mr. Darwin finds, and we believe quite rightly, the germ of conscience wherever and whenever two distinct motives compete for the practical guidance of any creature's mind which has the power to compare them together, and discriminate the worth of the two. He tells us that maternal swallows sometimes desert their brood when the migrating instinct comes upon them while they are out of sight of their young, and suggests that if after that instinct is gratified they have the power to recall the nestlings they have left to perish, they must be torn by a genuine remorse. He tells us of a heroic baboon which came down to rescue a young and timid one left behind by the troop, and which was insulated on a block of rock, surrounded by dogs and calling to its companions for aid. The old hero descended alone (like a Hector or Achilles) from the band, went slowly up to the isolated infant baboon, coaxed him to come down, and led him away in triumph, the dogs being too much astonished to make an attack. This conquest of the disin- terested feeling for the deserted infant baboon over all personal fear, clearly may have been, for anything we have any right to object to the contrary, as distinct a moral act as that of Grace Darling in rescuing the shipwrecked crew in the life-boat. So far we entirely agree with Mr. Darwin, and hold that if any of the lower orders of animals deliberately prefer the worthier of two motives, because it is the worthier, such an animal is distinctly a moral being.

But Mr. Darwin seems to us to spoil his analysis by trying to find an explanation of the superiority of one motive to another. We do not find any fault with his view that animal sympathy has been the result of 'natural selection,' on the ground that the gregarious animals bound together by it would be so much safer than those in which each cared only for itself. That is true,— though how the primeval love of parents for their offspring, which is, we suppose, the first source of the sympathy and united action of a herd,—can be ascribed to an accidental variation, we can- not even conceive,—nor do we suppose that Mr. Darwin would use the word ' accidental ' in such connection in any but a very relative sense. But we do find fault with his rationale of the method in which' weaker' but worthier motives are converted into triumphant ones, by virtue of their greater permanence :— "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 far 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 contrasted with the ever-enduring social instincts, retribution will surely come. Man will then feel dis- satisfied with himself, and will resolve with more or less force to act differently for the future. This is conscience; for conscience looks back- wards and judges past actions, inducing that kind of dissatisfaction, which if weak we call regret, and if severe remorse The imperious word ought seems merely to imply the consciousness of the existence of a persistent instinct, either innate or partly acquired, serving him as a

guide, though liable to be disobeyed If any desire or instinct, _ leading to an action opposed to the good of others still appears to a man, when recalled to mind, as strong as, or stronger than, his social instinct, he 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 dis- comfort when this is realized."

The whole drift of this explanation is to get rid of the new ele- ment in conscience,—the sense of authority,—by referring it to the greater ideal permanence of the motive which comes into collision with an animal impulse. Hunger is shortlived; social feeling perma- nent,—therefore there will be a dissatisfaction and sense of remorse' when the keener temporary pain is over and the milder but per- manent pain returns ; and the memory of this persistence of the- latter pain will, in some future struggle, turn the scale against the more violent onset of the former pain. Now that analysis- is, we venture to say, erroneous, and the error is mainly due,. we believe, to the assumed necessity of finding nothing new in the conscience which cannot in some sense or other be traced back to its parentage in the lower animal life. Mr. Darwin's rationale would only account for the preference of the more persistent over the less persistent motive ; it would give no account at all of the reason why we should prefer one of two equally persistent motives, one (say) purely intellectual, one of sympathy,—one, the desire to know, the other, the desire to serve,—of which we might regard the former as, if anything, the more independent of all temporary conditions, since it would apply to all conceivable states of individual life, while the beneficent motive applies only to states of social existence, and yet the con- science would generally sanction the latter, unless it could justify the purely intellectual motive by a subsequent store of beneficent results. Again, it does not in the least explain why the sympa- thetic motive is the more persistent. Suppose the conflict to have been between the satisfaction of a man's own hunger and the exactly equal hunger of a friend,—both equally temporary states and equally certain to pass away. Why should regret for having gratified my own appetite instead of his (now also gratified) be felt ? The reason why I forgot my own want after it is satisfied, and do not forget his after it is also satisfied, can only be that there was some higher claim on me in the one rather than the other. There is nothing at all necessarily more 'enduring' in the claim of a friend's hunger (long ago satisfied) on me, than there is in the claim of my own hunger (long ago satisfied) on me, unless I had at the time some imperious intimation that a self-sacrifice was right. Mr. Darwin's assumption that the social instinct is permanent and the selfish one temporary, is the assumption of a real moral discrimination in another form. There is no conceivable reason why I should subsequently regret my own temporary suffering from past hunger less than that of my neighbour, unless there is a reason why at the moment I ought to prefer one to the other.

This is a minute criticism, but it touches, we think, the only real fault of Mr. Darwin's philosophy—that he conceives 'evolu- tions' less as the history of progressive additions to the lower forms of life, than as explaining what is really the equivalent of the past state, and could not have helped coining out of it. The conscience can never be got out of a mere conflict of motives, for it is a con- flict, and something more,—a conflict with something to tell how the conflict 'ought' to end. The theory of evolution will, as far as we can see, be proved to be really true, in the sense that man is the lineal descendant of animals far his inferior in physical and intellectual nature, and with hardly more than the merest rudi- ments of his moral nature ; but 'evolution' will never explain more than the method how, after little, came more, and then much. It cannot show that much came out of the less, the less out of little, and little out of nothing.