MORE ABOUT DARWINISM.[170]The Expressions of the Emotions in Man and Animalsis the title of the latest work written by Charles Darwin. This author has already gained a pretty widespread name by his two volumes on theDescent of Man, and onThe Origin of Species. In all these, he advocates the theory of only one parent and progenitor, common both to man and to the animal.Man is the offspring of the brute. The only distinction between them is that of a more perfect development. Man is a monkey perfectly developed. This developing process is no other than habit transmitted, imitation, and practice.This theory is supposed in the volume before us—The Expressions, etc. It is, indeed, taken for granted, and Mr. Darwin merely seeks confirmatory proofs in this work. How he does so we shall see.The reasoning of the entire volume may be summed up in the following syllogism: The expressions of the emotions in man and animals are, for the most part, similar, nay, alike. Now, this could not be so, did man not descend from the animal; therefore, man is the offspring of the brute.Of course, he will have to admit some accidental differences in the expressions of each. But these he easily gets over by saying that in man those external expressions of the emotions are already perfected, matured, and developed, while in animals they are as yet budding, developing, and perfecting.The principle of evolution would seem to account for all differences. The animal, by evolving its faculties in a long series of years, rises gradually to a higher species, and finally, having walked on all fours, comes to the conclusion it would be better and more sensible to use only two feet. Having looked downward for a long time, it begins to think it would be more honorable and decent to assume an upright posture. And then, grunting and howling are by no means as becoming as speaking French, or Italian, or Chinese; hence, Mr. Orang comes to the conclusion that he has been silent long enough, and that it is time that he, too, should have his say about matters.We do not say that this is all expressed in so many words in the volume before us. Oh! no; Mr. Darwin is too adroit to do that. Like the devil, he sometimes assumes the garment of light, and puts on an appearance of virtue. His words are characterized by a tone of modesty and humility and even diffidence which is not common to that class of writers. He does not directly affirm anything; but he asks questions that contain a negative answer. He insinuates. He does not tell us man is a monkey, but he affirms that man expresses his feelings in the same manner as do these animals. Hence how explain this similarity, if they be not brothers?We call attention to this fact. It alone can render his work dangerous to youthful or unguarded minds. We think there is little to fear that its frivolous arguments will excite anything but laughter and ridicule among men of solid erudition.Unfortunately, the ideas embodiedin this book are the creed of many enlightened persons, even, of this “progressive” age. This alone accounts for the favor and widespread circulation Darwin’s writings have acquired. Protestantism has done its work only too well. Casting off all authority in matters of faith, it has paved the way to all errors, and its theory has merely been developed by our modern materialists.We are not disposed to deny the great labor and varied research employed in the work before us; but, we must say, seldom has it been our lot to witness such shallowness of argument, such loose connection between premises and conclusions. It will astonish the intelligent reader that so earnest a student as Mr. Darwin evidently is, could make use of logic in a manner discreditable to any tyro.But we must not wonder at this. The drunkard sees things turning topsy-turvy, when in reality they stand still. One who wears green spectacles will behold objects in a green or pale color. We are apt to judge things according to preconceived ideas or a certain state of mind. So Mr. Darwin: his great hobby is to make man a monkey, andvice versa. Hence, he takes slight resemblances between the two as certain proof of his theory. Thus, he says: “With mankind, some expressions, such as the bristling of the hair under the influence of extreme terror, can hardly be understood except on the belief that man once existed in a much lower and animal-like condition. The community of certain expressions in distinct though allied species, as in the movements of the same facial muscles during laughter by man and by various monkeys, is rendered somewhat more intelligible if we believe in their common progenitor. He who admits on general principles that the structure and habits of all animals have been gradually evolved, will look at the whole subject of expressions in a new and interesting light.”[171]This language is clear and unmistakable, though its meaning be artfully disguised. The logic of his conclusions, however, is not equally satisfactory. Why trace man’s origin to the monkey, because, forsooth, his hair bristles when angry? Or is it really so necessary to make man a brute because the same facial muscles move during laughter? We had always thought that these accidental resemblances were more than sufficiently explained by the simple fact that man, besides his immortal soul, is possessed of a body also, which, being material, is subject in many respects to the laws of other animals. We say, in fact, man is a rational animal. He is composed of matter and spirit. As regards his body, he is subject to the same laws as those which regulate animals.Mr. Darwin has in his conclusions what is not contained in his premises, and hence he falls into a grave error in regard to the first principles of logic and sound reasoning. It is quite logical and perfectly true to say man has some exterior or bodily motions and expressions similar to those of other animals, and therefore that his bodily organs have some relation and similarity with those of the lower animals; nay, we may even infer the same essence to be common to the bodily organs of both. Thus much strict logic will allow. Thus much sound philosophy has always admitted. But then, we may ask, How far does this resemblance extend? Does it merely exist in the bodily organs, or does it perhaps show itself in all external actions,even those of the intellect and the will? Does it extend to all the essential elements in both, or is it merely accidental, relating simply to minor actions? The answer cannot be doubtful even to the most superficial observer. We ask, therefore, Is this resemblance of an essential, or rather an accidental, character? We can only admit that the latter is the case. There is, it is true, a manifold similarity; but after all, even where this is most striking, is there not a vast discrepancy? With the lower animal, all is routine—machine-like, habitual, ever the same under similar circumstances, nor can it combine means with the end. In man, these same external actions are regulated by the will, and can be omitted or done at pleasure.Now, will Mr. Darwin say this is merely a trifle—that this, too, can be acquired by the brute after a long experience and a lapse of years? Reason and sound philosophy teach that the sensations of brutes are essentially distinct from, and in nowise contain, reason or intelligence. How, then, could reason be the product of evolution? How, then, can that be evolved which does not at all exist?We repeat it: Darwin’s conclusion is similar to this: “A dog is a cat, because, forsooth, both sleep.” He finds in man and brutes some partial similarities in mere external actions, and straightway he concludes that they are both of the same essence and parentage. As well might he say burning lamps are emanations from the sun, because they, too, give light.Instinct is almost entirely left out of account, and all expressions and external actions are attributed solely to habit and exercise repeated.[172]We by no means doubt that habit and exercise have a great deal to do with external actions. But can they all be accounted for in such a manner? When we ask, How do children, from the very first day of their birth, make use of their hands and feet, and employ their mouths in the proper way for imbibing nourishment? Mr. Darwin may answer: “This habit, too, was transmitted from parent to offspring, and indicates a long series of generations” (p. 39).But we cannot very well see how this answer will satisfy even the most credulous reader. Habits may be to a certain extent transmitted by parents to their children; but generally it is, in an imperfect state, the “tendency” or inclination, rather than the act, that is transmitted. An intemperate parent may transmit to his offspring a “tendency” to that vice; but we have not yet heard of a born drunkard.Moreover, is this principle applicable in a general manner even in regard to merely accidental habits? Experience tells us quite the contrary.Weak-minded parents often give birth to most gifted children. On the contrary, many most cultivated and intelligent parents have children who are dull and slow of understanding.But even granting that habits may be transmitted from parent to offspring, we ask, What is the nature of such habits? Are they essential elements of nature, or merely minor and trifling motions? Mr. Darwin’s own example on the point will confirm our assertion that they are of the latter sort: “A gentleman of considerable position was found by his wife to have the curious trick, when he lay fast asleep on his back in bed, of raising his right arm slowly in front of his face up to his forehead,and then dropping it with a jerk, so that the wrist fell heavily on the bridge of his nose. The trick did not occur every night, but occasionally, and was independent of any ascertained cause. Sometimes it was repeated incessantly for an hour or more. The gentleman’s nose was prominent, and its bridge often became sore from the blows which it received” (p. 34). His son, too, inherited this trick. The only difference, however, consisted in the son’s nose not being quite so prominent, and therefore less exposed to the tricky and mysterious blows.Now, what does a fact of this sort prove? Simply that slight, bodily actions, such as the one alleged, can be transmitted.“Language,” he tells us, “has been invented by man in a slow and tedious process, completed by innumerable steps half consciously made” (p. 60). It is somewhat amusing to listen to his description of this process of inventing language. “The sexes,” he says, “of many animals call for each other during the breeding season, etc. This, indeed, seems to have been the primordial use and means of development of voice” (p. 84).As an example, he alleges the cow calling for her calf, the ewes bleating for their lambs (p. 85). This theory is at least amusing, if not clear and convincing. It only adds another specimen of Mr. Darwin’s loose logic. His argument can be thus presented: There is a resemblance between the sound of a cow calling for her calf and the voice of man; therefore, the latter is derived from the former, being merely its development—they are both identical in germ. The one is perfected by the principle of evolution, which has the wonderful capacity of transforming all sorts of things.This is truly making light of that noble gift bestowed upon man by his Creator—language. But, ingenious as Mr. Darwin strives to be in assigning the origin of language, he overlooks two little points. Language he confounds, first, with mere inarticulate sounds. Secondly, he forgets that there may be a distinction between the sound or voice as a sign of an idea or of a mere sensation. To confound the two would be like comparing the tones of a piano, as produced by the hands of an artist, to the same sounds brought forth by some monkey trying his paws on the instrument.We do not know whether Mr. Darwin has much of a musical ear. If he has, even in a very slight degree, we think he would soon find a very great and specific distinction between the production of the musician and the jargon of the monkey. He would tell us, in the one case, the sounds are expressive of the musical combination and ideas of the artist, while, in the other, they are mere unmeaning sounds. So it is with language. Words express ideas. We can use them as we choose, nay, even wilfully change or disguise their true meaning. What similarity exists, then, between language and the sounds of animals? If any, it is in the sound. Does this justify the conclusion that they are both identical in germ; that the one is a development of the other? As well might we say the whistling of the wind among the leaves of trees, and the howling of the storm, are identical with the voice of man. All these sounds of nature are no less sounds than those of man and the brute; but will any man of sound mind identify them?Still, Mr. Darwin goes on with an air of perfect self-complacency: “From this fact, and from the analogyof other animals, I have been led to infer that the progenitors of man probably uttered musical tones before they had acquired the power of articulate speech” (p. 87).Of course, our progenitors here are none other than monkeys. It is quite apparent that Darwin’s notion of language is extremely inadequate and confused. He must allow us to refresh his memory a little on the subject. A word is an external sign whereby an internal thought or idea is made known to others, just as smoke is a sign of fire. Still, words are not expressive of ideas by any natural aptitude. In fact words are naturally so little adapted to express any particular concept of the mind that they may be distorted from their meaning. They are conventional signs: and except so far as they were given to our first parents by God, they have been adopted and used by positive authority, custom, or agreement to serve as a medium of thought.Herein lies one of the specific differences of human speech from the sound of animals. These give forth soundsnaturallyadapted to express some feeling. Moreover, their utterances are not chosen by themselves, but dictated by nature. They cannot change them; while man selects, varies, and changes his words at will. Hence, language is defined: “The articulate voice of man, having signification by the agreement of men.” Words are parts of a sentence, which is defined: “An assemblage of words intended to mean something.”We here waive the question whether language was invented by man at all. Our doctrine is that it was not invented, but was communicated directly by God to our first parents, Adam and Eve. But this is of no importance at present; for, whether invented by man, or directly communicated by God, Mr. Darwin’s theory is equally untenable.We sum up the differences of sound or language in man and in animals as follows:1. In man, language is the expression of thought and judgment, while the sounds of animals are merely spontaneous and natural utterances.2. Language in man is the product of reasoning; it presupposes a perception of the relation of the subject and the predicate. For instance, when I say, Man is immortal, I must perceive the relation of the attribute immortality to man. Now, the sound of the animal is merely expressive of some solitary feeling.3. Man directs his words, while the brute’s sound is ever the same.Another instance of Darwin’s logic is found in tracing the origin of the expression of sulkiness in man, especially in children. This feeling, he says, is expressed by a protrusion of the lips, or, as it is called, “making a snout.” Now, he continues, “young orangs and chimpanzees protrude their lips to an extraordinary degree, when they are discontented, somewhat angry, or sulky” (p. 234).But, lo! what is his conclusion? Therefore, he infers, this habit of man was a primordial habit in his “semi-human progenitors,” who are, of course, no less than the aforesaid honorable monkeys. Let us hear his words: “If, then, our semi-human progenitors [i.e.Messrs. Orang and Chimpanzee] protruded their lips when sulky or a little angered in the same manner as do the existing anthropoid apes, it is not an anomalous though a curious fact that our children should exhibit, when similarly affected, a trace of the same expression” (p. 234). Mr. Darwin is cunning. He wishes tacitly to infer that man comes from the animal, because both can make“snouts.” Of course, even he must concede that the monkey can make a better or at least a longer “snout” than man. And hence the principles of evolution in this case at least would imply retrogression, not progress. His mode of reasoning is strange indeed. When he finds an expression in man, he searches whether there is anything like it among the monkeys or other animals; and, when he has discovered even a slight trace, he triumphantly exclaims, Behold the progenitors of man! He does not yet call them genitors; they are not the immediate parents, but simply grandfathers and grandmothers. Nor are these progenitors quite human; they are as yet semi-human, being about half-way between the monkey phase and that of man. Speaking of man, he says: “The lips are sometimes protruded during rage in a manner the meaning of which I do not understand, unless it depends on our descent from some ape-like animal” (p. 243). Mr. Darwin manifests a strange partiality for the ape-like animals.But it is no wonder he cannot understand the plainest facts, which every Catholic child can tell him. He sets aside all revealed truths. He knows nothing about the simple but sublime narrative in the first chapter of Genesis. He ignores the creative act bringing forth, not one kind, but “the living creature in its kind, cattle, and creeping things, and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.”[173]To him, this is of no meaning. True, the Scripture records the solemn creation of man as entirely distinct from that of animals. “Let us make man,” God said, “to our image, and likeness; and let him have dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air,” etc. “And God created man to his own image: to the image of God he created him, male and female he created them.”[174]True, Darwin will say, according to the Scripture, “God breathed into his [man’s] face the breath of life, and man became a living soul.”[175]But what care I for the Scriptures, when my own private and infallible reason leads me to think that God did not directly breathe into man an intelligent soul—made after God’s own image and likeness—but rather that man received it from the animal? Such is, indeed, the result of the revolt of reason against God. Like Satan, who was cast from heaven in a moment, when desirous of elevating his throne to a level with that of God, so man falls and degrades himself when he becomes too proud to listen to God’s Word, making reason the supreme and sole criterion of truth and certitude.Mr. Darwin seems to admit a Creator of the universe, but holds that only one, or at most four, species were created. Now, we must not forget, as he certainly does, that the Creator was an infinitely intelligent being, and therefore had some object in view in creation. Every intelligent being must act for some end. We call him a fool who knows not what he is doing, and therefore is foolish. Hence, in creation, God destined each creature for some end, to accomplish a certain task. The Creator must, however, give to each creature the necessary means to attain its end. It would be unintelligible that God should destine me to walk, without giving me feet; or create me to earn my livelihood by the labor of my hands, without giving me hands to work with.Now, this principle, so universally exhibited in nature, will easily and satisfactorily explain all expressions in animals as well as in man, without obliging us to have recourse to the monkey theory so fondly adhered to by Darwin.We come now to another proof adduced by Darwin to establish his beloved ape-descending theory. It is taken from the state of an insane person (p. 245). We will allow him to speak for himself: “Its symptoms are the reappearance of primitive instincts, a faint echo from a far distant past, testifying to a kinship which man has almost outgrown” (p. 245). These are the words of Dr. Maudsley, cited and approved by him. The state of insanity in man is compared to the normal state of the animal. Again, he asks, “Why should a human being, deprived of his reason, ever become so brutal in character as some do, unless he has the brutal nature within him?” (p. 246).A more silly or childish mode of reasoning could scarcely be thought of. As well might he say the sun returns to its primitive state when in an eclipse, or an engine is working properly when the boilers explode and spread death and consternation all around.We say of the idiot, He has lost his mind. Not that it really is entirely extinct: it is merely out of working order. Its clearness is darkened by some disorder. The idiot is in a state repugnant to his natural condition. How, then, infer from such a condition a former kinship? A machine or clock out of order will, when left to itself, work indeed; not, however, returning to its normal state, but destroying itself. So it is with the idiot. It was, therefore, perhaps rather superfluous for Mr. Darwin to spend so much time and labor, and give his readers so much trouble, for the sake of finding out in how many ways idiots resemble his dear monkeys, chimpanzees, and orangs.We wonder why the case of Nabuchodonosor did not occur to him. It would have so well illustrated his theory. For he, without becoming permanently an idiot, was seized with an irresistible propensity to return, as Mr. Darwin would say, to his own brethren, and renew his old friendships and acquaintances. And so well was that gentleman pleased with his company that he remained in it not less than seven years, until it pleased God to restore him to his more intelligent and polite brothers.We would suggest to Mr. Darwin a similar experiment. He ought to be sociable, and from time to time imitate Nabuchodonosor: let his hair and beard grow until they become long feathers; his ears, too, could be extended somewhat, and the nails of his hands and feet might very well become claws; he ought also to eat grass for a while. Thus he would be fulfilling a duty to his rustic brethren, and he could at the same time enlighten them a little on bipedal civilization, especially as they will one day get to be men themselves, and therefore should try to do honor to their future relatives.Darwin may tenderly call monkeys “our nearest allies” (p. 253), or say: “The playful sneer or ferocious snarl in man reveals his animal descent” (p. 253); or again: “We may readily believe, from our affinity to the anthropomorphous apes, that our male semi-human progenitors possessed great canine teeth” (p. 253)—he may say all this, and still, we fear, he would not like to have himself introduced at the court of London as the brother of the long-tailed and widely known orang-outang. And why? Because his whole moral nature would revolt at such an indignity,and thus furnish the strongest proof, perhaps, that all his talk about ape-affinity and descent is nonsense. Human nature rebels at such a degradation. It protests instinctively against such an alliance. It is unconscious of such a relationship.Now, how is it, otherwise, that our nature is so tender with regard to all kindred? How is it that brothers and sisters and relatives love each other so much and without effort; that in all men there is a feeling of affinity toward their fellows? How, we ask, does our nature, otherwise so tenderly inclined to all relatives, even the most distant, forget in this one instance alone a relationship at once the most sacred and tender—that of a child to its parent? For we, says Mr. Darwin, are the grandchildren at least of the animal.All the materialistic cavils and speculations of so-called philosophers will suffer shipwreck on this rock—the moral feeling of the dignity and specific difference of man. But we will explain the symptoms of lunacy to Darwin in a direct manner.We grant that man has the brutish “nature within him.” We do not concede, however, that he has only the brutish nature and no other. Man has a soul as well as a body. As regards the nature of the body, we cheerfully grant all that Mr. Darwin could desire. It is of the same substance as that of his dear orang. It has, moreover, the same violent passions and downward tendencies; nay, it can—as experience teaches in fact it has—outdo the brute in violent bursts of passion. It is, moreover, regulated by the same laws of climate, food, life, etc.But this is all we concede. It has not the same origin, being directly created by God in its natural state. Much less do we admit that man is endowed with no higher nature, entirely and specifically distinct from his body. He has a soul that thinks—a soul that is entirely spiritual and intelligent, not merely sensible.We therefore answer that the state of idiots shows, indeed, that man has the brutish nature within him, but by no means that he has no other nature. Only a little logic would have shown Darwin that his conclusions embody far more than his premises will allow. It seems plain enough that this simple truth is the key to the fullest explanations of human nature itself, and its similarities with the nature of mere animals. Man was defined by the ancients as “a rational animal.” S. Thomas and the scholastics took up and perpetuated this definition. Man is an animal, because he has a body like all animals, and a soul which is created to be the form of that body. Man is, moreover, a rational being, because, unlike all the other animals, he has a soul which has a separate existence of its own, is created immediately by God, and is essentially spiritual.This distinction, if only borne in mind by our monkey theorists, would have aided them not a little, we opine, in their brain-cracking researches; nor would they have found so many mysteries where everything is plain and intelligible.We now proceed to another principle advanced in the book before us. Darwin says: “That the chief expressive actions exhibited by man and by the lower animals are innate or inherited—that is, have not been learnt by the individual—is now admitted by every one” (p. 351).He must allow us to say that such a proposition is, in our estimation, not admitted by every one. With the exception of the author and a few monkeyists, we know of no one who ever advocated any such principle.It is indeed conceded that a “tendency” to most of our expressive actions may be innate or inherited; but, as to the actions and expressions themselves, it is commonly taught by all the schools that they are performed by instinct and reason, and perfected by imitation and experience. What Mr. Darwin means when he calls expressions innate and inherited is not the former—the tendency—but the action itself as transmitted from the father to the son. He illustrates his meaning by an example, not quite suitable for our pages, which may be found by the curious on p. 44 of his work. If anything, this example shows that dogs, and wolves, and jackals are guided by no reason, and do not apply the proper means to attain an end. But does it follow that man, too, has inherited his external movements from such progenitors as monkeys? Does not man direct even all his external actions by reason? It is true, he may be led away by passion; but that is an exception, and only proves the rule.But we go further. The Catholic Church teaches that the human race is descended from one common pair—Adam and Eve. From them the whole human race was propagated. Darwin, too, teaches the unity of mankind. But his is quite a different unity. Not only do all men descend from a common human parent, according to him, but both animals and men have a common parent; so that originally there existed one animal, from which all the rest, men included, derive their origin.Now, we should naturally expect that so grave an inference would be based upon a no less weighty proof. But herein we are sadly mistaken. His whole argument rests upon a resemblance of some external actions common to mankind: “I have endeavored to show in considerable detail that all the chief expressions in man are the same throughout the world. This fact is interesting, as it affords a new argument in favor of the several races being descended from a single parent stock, which must have been almost completely human in structure, and to a large extent in mind, before the period at which races diverged from each other” (p. 361).This argument may do very well to confirm the doctrine of the church; but we do not see how it will establish the ape theory, any more than it would to infer that the sun and moon are alike because they both shine. It is really amusing to hear our author so innocently say: “We may confidently believe that laughter, as a sign of pleasure or enjoyment, was practised by our progenitors long before they deserved to be called human” (p. 362).From all this it is at least evident that our poor progenitors had to undergo a long novitiate to become invested with the habits proper to man. Theirs, indeed, must have been a tedious process before attaining human activity. One thing, however, he forgets to tell us. It is the period when such a change of the species occurred. Theory may sound very well; but we know of no fact of the kind. How is it that, as long as the world can remember, no monkey ever became a man, or a tree a pig? We cannot exactly agree with Darwin, therefore, when he calls the “anthropomorphous apes our nearest allies and our early progenitors” (p. 363). We are quite aware of the answer he gives to this objection in his book, onThe Origin of Species. But it may well be compared to the method of those romance writers who take good care to place the scene of the heroic exploits of their heroes infar distant lands as yet unknown and unexplored. Thus they may write volume after volume, without any danger of being convicted of telling stories and building castles in the air. So Darwin. In hisOrigin of Species, he pretends that the change from one species to another is so long and gradual that it may comprise even millions of years. As a conjecture, this may pass; but as an argument in support of a most elaborate system, we fail to see its efficacy.We will now pass to another argument. Speaking of frowning as shading the eyes, he says: “It seems probable that this shading action would not have become habitual until man had assumed a completely upright position; for monkeys do not frown when exposed to a glaring light” (p. 363). This phrase can be made plainer when paraphrased as follows: It is a theory, established by me beyond any doubt, that man is the offspring of the monkey. Now, the monkey does not frown or shade his eyes, even when exposed to the most glaring light of the sun. Hence, it follows that frowning is an action peculiarly adapted only to an upright position. And hence, too, no wonder that the orang did not make use of it as long as he was walking on all fours and bent downwards. Hence, we must infer that frowning became a habit, then, only when the ape, thinking that he had walked long enough on all fours, and that he might, without any particular inconvenience to himself, dispense with two feet, stood upright, and became a man. This is the meaning of his words. On the same principle the following conjecture is based: “Our early progenitors, when indignant, would not hold their heads erect until they had acquired the ordinary carriage and upright attitude of man” (p. 363). Its sense is: As our first parents were brutes, and as we find that in no instance they held their heads erect when angry or indignant, it follows, of course, that this action was acquired only after they made use of their hind feet to walk, and when the fore paws became hands.Blushing is considered by Darwin an expression that requires attention to one’s personal defects. Now, as it has not been observed in any monkey or other animal, he of course infers that it became habitual only when, having emerged from the monkey phase of existence, we became semi-human.“But it does not seem possible”—these are his words—“that any animal, until its mental powers had been developed to an equal or nearly equal degree with those of man, would have closely considered and been sensitive about its own personal appearance” (p. 364).Thus far we perfectly agree with him. Blushing is an act predicable only of an intelligent being. Hence, it is quite logical to say that animals could not possess it, unless almost as perfect as man. But we by no means so readily coincide with his conclusion, namely: “Therefore, we may conclude that blushing originated at a very late period in the long line of our descent” (p. 364).If this were true, it would likewise follow that man ought to become more prone to blushing as he advances in years. This, however, it will be confessed, is not the case. Quite the reverse frequently happens. Youth and innocence blush, while age and vice grow daily more barefaced and unblushing. Now, if blushing were a mere habit acquired and developed by physical evolution, how does it come to pass that full-grown men who are givento immorality lose that blush which rose to their cheeks when young and innocent? Daily experience only too well tells the tale how the maiden blush becomes dimmer and fades entirely when the career of sin and shame has been once entered upon. Where, then, is the philosophy of Darwin’s principle?It is quite true, he tells us, that “we cannot cause a blush by any physical means. It is the mind which must be affected” (p. 310); “that the causes of blushing are shyness, shame, and modesty; the essential element in all being self-attention” (p. 326). Again, he continues: “Many reasons can be assigned [as causes of blushing] for believing that originally self-attention directed to personal appearance in relation to the opinion of others was the exciting cause. Moral causes are only secondary; the same effect being subsequently produced through the force of association by self-attention in relation to moral conduct” (p. 326).This shows that, with Darwin, morality is a mere matter of etiquette. “But modesty,” he continues, “frequently relates to acts of indelicacy; and indelicacy is an affair of etiquette, as we clearly see with the nations that go altogether or nearly naked. He who is modest, and blushes easily at acts of this nature, does so because they are breaches of a firmly and wisely established etiquette” (p. 335).From this, then, it is clear that morality, chastity, and every species of virtue are nothing more than the external code of regulations which society has agreed upon in its social intercourse. In other words, all virtue and morality consist in what we call good breeding. We blush, not because we break the law of God, but because we violate the precept of man. Darwin’s ten commandments, we think, might well be summed up as follows: First commandment: Society is the Lord God of man; thou shalt adore it alone, by minutely observing all its external regulations, called etiquette. 2d. Thou shalt not take its name in vain by saying that man and society can commit any wrong, or be anything but perfect. 3d. Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath; that is, go to church on Sunday, because others do so, and etiquette demands it. 4th. Honor thy father and thy mother, because it is customary to do so. 5th. Thou shalt not be so common a criminal as to kill a man by direct physical means; but remember that thou must hold every man to be a rogue and a knave until he proves the contrary. Thou mayest even, especially when thou art a congressman, take an oath, without being particular as to the truth of thy statement. 6th and 9th. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Now, as marriage is merely an ordinary contract, that can of course be dissolved when the parties mutually agree, go to court, obtain a divorce, and thou canst marry the wife of another. As to thoughts against the sixth commandment, thou must not trouble thy head too much about them. They are nature’s legitimate ebullitions. 7th. Thou shalt not steal in open daylight, but get as much as thou canst without being detected. This would constitute the moral code of Darwin. If morality is reduced to etiquette, it is evident that its obligation is merely external.Finally, we come to another point in the book onThe Expressions, etc. It is a curious instance of our former propensities in a primeval state. At some time or other, we are told, we were possessed of long ears, and movable at that, such as we see in the mule and dog. The elephant,also, would afford a pretty good specimen, its ears being long and quite flexible.But let us hear him: “If our ears had remained movable, their movements would have been highly expressive, as is the case with all the animals which fight with their teeth; and we may infer that our early progenitors thus fought” (p. 365). Well, we do not by any means doubt that these movables would be highly expressive in man. Just imagine, for instance, Mr. Darwin going through the streets of New York with a pair of long ears, moving and flapping to his heart’s content! Why, the New York papers would hail it as a godsend, and the urchins on Broadway would go in ecstasies over it.Our interesting author winds up his somewhat lengthy dissertations with the inference that his reasonings on the “expression of emotions” afford another confirmatory proof of his theory that man is the offspring of the monkey. His two volumes on theDescent of Manwere intended as the corner-stone of his building. This later work was to finish it. The great pity is that he is building a castle in the air. He gives no proof. Similarities in man and animals may afford ground for suppositions, but can never cause conviction.“We have seen,” he says, “that the study of the theory of ‘expression’ confirms, to a certain limited extent, the conclusion that man is derived from some lower animal form, and supports the belief of the specific or sub-specific unity of the several races” (p. 367).We are now done with Darwin. In perusing the volume, we confess it was not without a feeling of deep sadness at so much blindness combined with no ordinary degree of learning and research. Darwin is a student of no mean class. His research shows that no pains were spared. His numerous examples demonstrate that he is perfectly at home in natural sciences. Mixed up with error, there is in his book a great deal both interesting and highly instructive. His conclusions might perhaps be correct if there existed no God, no revelation, and no eternity. He is a striking example of men who set aside the revealed Word of God, and take reason as their sole guide and standard in the search after wisdom.It may not be amiss to subjoin a few general principles that will refute even more fully the sophisms of the author.We lay it down as a certain proposition that sensation is essentially distinct from intelligence. Sensation is defined: “A certain impression present to the mind, caused by an external agent on an animated body.”[176]This external impression is received by five sensible organs, viz.: touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight. These are evidently material organs, having size, weight, figure, extension, distance, number, motion, and rest. The same is the case with the object causing the impressions.Now, is there any specific difference between sensation and intelligence? Is the understanding of man entirely different from the sensation of the brute? Or is it merely a development of the latter? If we believe Darwin, there is no real difference, except that the one is more perfect than the other. In the monkey, there exists the same faculty of intelligence as in man. In the former, however, it is in its incipient stage; in the latter, it is matured and developed. Can such a theory be reconciled with philosophy? We believe not. Infact, the difference between sensation and intelligence can be given as follows: 1. Sensations are external impressions which are not produced by the mind, but merely received; hence they are passive; whilst the understanding of man is essentially the actor, and not merely the recipient. 2. Again, “Sensations are particular facts which never leave their own sphere.”[177]Intelligence forms ideas that are universal and absolute, being applicable to all individuals.Moreover, sensation does not distinguish one object from the other, neither does it compare them. The illustrious Spaniard whom we have already quoted illustrates this by saying: “The sensation of the pink is only that of the pink, and that of the rose only that of the rose. The instant you attempt to compare them you suppose in the mind an act by which it perceives the difference; and, if you attribute to it anything more than pure sensation, you add a faculty distinct from sensation, namely, that of comparing sensations, and appreciating their similarities and differences.”[178]This, indeed, is evident. Sensation is simply the external impression received. As such, it is an isolated act. It does not compare or judge.The idea, for instance, of the triangle is one, and is common to all triangles of every size and kind; the representation or sensation is multiple, and varies in size and kind.Again, the idea or thought of the mind is fixed and necessary; the representation changeable.The idea,e.g., of the triangle is “the same to the man born blind, and to him who has sight; and the proof of this is that both, in their arguments and geometrical uses, develop it in the same manner.”[179]From what has been thus far said, it is evident that there exists a dividing line between the intellect and sensation; that the one is in no sense contained in the other, and cannot by any process be derived from it. Darwin is a mere sensist. He understands little of the nature and faculties of the human soul. He ignores any essential distinction between the intellect and sensation.There is, indeed, it may be observed, a close connection between the two. Sensation is the condition of the exercise of the intellect while we are in this life. It supplies food for the intelligence. It always precedes and accompanies the intellectual act. Thus, when we think of God’s mercy, we easily imagine God as a kind father, etc.But such is the case only in human intelligence. We have a spirit in a material and sensible body. Our intellect, by its substantial union with the body, is bound to adapt its exercises to the conditions imposed by this union. But unless we deny all revelation, we must admit the existence of celestial spirits who are not possessed of and encumbered by any body. These, then, need no visible organs, no external sensation, no sensible representation, to arouse and excite their intellect to action. Hence, it follows that the connection existing between sensation and intelligence is not essential.We shall now examine some other acts of the intellect, to confirm what we have said. Judgment is one of the principal acts of the mind. It is defined: “The perception and affirmation of the identity or diversity of two ideas or propositions obtained by comparing them.”[180]Thus, in the proposition, “Man is mortal,” the mind compares the ideas manand “mortal,” and affirms their identity. The sensation, however, is an isolated impression on the mind, a single fact. Another feature of human actions is the purpose or end for which a thing is done. The dog may do things that have great similarity to human actions; but close observation will easily convince one that the brute does so in a uniform manner, and consequently is impelled by natural instinct. Man, however, sits down and deliberates. He proposes some object to be accomplished, and carefully selects the means best calculated to attain that end. He changes his means at will, according to the circumstances of the case. Does any animal, even be it Darwin’s darling monkey, do anything of the kind? Moreover, the end or purpose may be inherent in the act itself; thus, the sun gives heat and light. An end, however, may not arise essentially out of the nature of things, but may be freely intended; thus, man chooses different objects, while animals necessarily perform them. Again, man observes order in his actions. Order is defined: “A proper disposition of things, giving to each its place”;[181]or, “A composition, and arranging things according to their proper place.”[182]This arrangement may be made either in relation to the matter, or time, or the object. Now, do we ever behold animals displaying order in their actions? Has even Darwin ever seen a monkey arranging books in a library in such a manner as to place alongside each other those relating to one subject? We doubt it. We conclude this review by summing up, in Darwin’s words, the principles by which he contends that all our ideas are acquired. The first is the principle of serviceable associated habits. According to it, we gradually acquire all those habits, ideas, and expressions that conduce to our interest or gratification. The second is that of antithesis—that is, when something offered to our interest occurs, we adopt contrary actions and ideas. The third is styled by Darwin the principle of actions due to the constitution of the nervous system, independently, from the first, of the will, and independently, to a certain extent, of habit. This last principle is simply what is commonly called instinct. No one denies that it causes many actions pertaining to our welfare; but no man of sound mind will derive from it intelligence. The first and second principles can be reduced to that of utilitarianism. In plain language, it amounts to this: if all the actions, thoughts, and desires of man are regulated merely in accordance with each one’s private gratification, there would be no such thing as being concerned about the welfare of others. We finish by recalling the fundamental idea underlying this work. There are, Darwin tells us, striking similarities between the external expressions exhibited by man and the animal. These cannot be explained except on the supposition that the former descends by a long and slow process of generation from the latter. This is styled natural evolution.There is, we admit, a germ of truth in the theory of evolution. The mistake is in applying it without limit. The Catholic Church teaches, 1. that the soul of man is immediately created by God. 2. That the human body also was created in like manner. This latter, however, is not so explicitly defined as the former. 3. It is a commonly received opinion of theologians that all the principal species of the animal were created directly by God. 4. That,however, imperfect species, such as hybrids and those generated by corruption, perspiration—e.g., fleas—were created only in germ, orpotentiali modo.From this, it is not difficult to see how far a Catholic may accept the theory of evolution. Scientists should not forget that reason is the handmaid of revelation.
MORE ABOUT DARWINISM.[170]The Expressions of the Emotions in Man and Animalsis the title of the latest work written by Charles Darwin. This author has already gained a pretty widespread name by his two volumes on theDescent of Man, and onThe Origin of Species. In all these, he advocates the theory of only one parent and progenitor, common both to man and to the animal.Man is the offspring of the brute. The only distinction between them is that of a more perfect development. Man is a monkey perfectly developed. This developing process is no other than habit transmitted, imitation, and practice.This theory is supposed in the volume before us—The Expressions, etc. It is, indeed, taken for granted, and Mr. Darwin merely seeks confirmatory proofs in this work. How he does so we shall see.The reasoning of the entire volume may be summed up in the following syllogism: The expressions of the emotions in man and animals are, for the most part, similar, nay, alike. Now, this could not be so, did man not descend from the animal; therefore, man is the offspring of the brute.Of course, he will have to admit some accidental differences in the expressions of each. But these he easily gets over by saying that in man those external expressions of the emotions are already perfected, matured, and developed, while in animals they are as yet budding, developing, and perfecting.The principle of evolution would seem to account for all differences. The animal, by evolving its faculties in a long series of years, rises gradually to a higher species, and finally, having walked on all fours, comes to the conclusion it would be better and more sensible to use only two feet. Having looked downward for a long time, it begins to think it would be more honorable and decent to assume an upright posture. And then, grunting and howling are by no means as becoming as speaking French, or Italian, or Chinese; hence, Mr. Orang comes to the conclusion that he has been silent long enough, and that it is time that he, too, should have his say about matters.We do not say that this is all expressed in so many words in the volume before us. Oh! no; Mr. Darwin is too adroit to do that. Like the devil, he sometimes assumes the garment of light, and puts on an appearance of virtue. His words are characterized by a tone of modesty and humility and even diffidence which is not common to that class of writers. He does not directly affirm anything; but he asks questions that contain a negative answer. He insinuates. He does not tell us man is a monkey, but he affirms that man expresses his feelings in the same manner as do these animals. Hence how explain this similarity, if they be not brothers?We call attention to this fact. It alone can render his work dangerous to youthful or unguarded minds. We think there is little to fear that its frivolous arguments will excite anything but laughter and ridicule among men of solid erudition.Unfortunately, the ideas embodiedin this book are the creed of many enlightened persons, even, of this “progressive” age. This alone accounts for the favor and widespread circulation Darwin’s writings have acquired. Protestantism has done its work only too well. Casting off all authority in matters of faith, it has paved the way to all errors, and its theory has merely been developed by our modern materialists.We are not disposed to deny the great labor and varied research employed in the work before us; but, we must say, seldom has it been our lot to witness such shallowness of argument, such loose connection between premises and conclusions. It will astonish the intelligent reader that so earnest a student as Mr. Darwin evidently is, could make use of logic in a manner discreditable to any tyro.But we must not wonder at this. The drunkard sees things turning topsy-turvy, when in reality they stand still. One who wears green spectacles will behold objects in a green or pale color. We are apt to judge things according to preconceived ideas or a certain state of mind. So Mr. Darwin: his great hobby is to make man a monkey, andvice versa. Hence, he takes slight resemblances between the two as certain proof of his theory. Thus, he says: “With mankind, some expressions, such as the bristling of the hair under the influence of extreme terror, can hardly be understood except on the belief that man once existed in a much lower and animal-like condition. The community of certain expressions in distinct though allied species, as in the movements of the same facial muscles during laughter by man and by various monkeys, is rendered somewhat more intelligible if we believe in their common progenitor. He who admits on general principles that the structure and habits of all animals have been gradually evolved, will look at the whole subject of expressions in a new and interesting light.”[171]This language is clear and unmistakable, though its meaning be artfully disguised. The logic of his conclusions, however, is not equally satisfactory. Why trace man’s origin to the monkey, because, forsooth, his hair bristles when angry? Or is it really so necessary to make man a brute because the same facial muscles move during laughter? We had always thought that these accidental resemblances were more than sufficiently explained by the simple fact that man, besides his immortal soul, is possessed of a body also, which, being material, is subject in many respects to the laws of other animals. We say, in fact, man is a rational animal. He is composed of matter and spirit. As regards his body, he is subject to the same laws as those which regulate animals.Mr. Darwin has in his conclusions what is not contained in his premises, and hence he falls into a grave error in regard to the first principles of logic and sound reasoning. It is quite logical and perfectly true to say man has some exterior or bodily motions and expressions similar to those of other animals, and therefore that his bodily organs have some relation and similarity with those of the lower animals; nay, we may even infer the same essence to be common to the bodily organs of both. Thus much strict logic will allow. Thus much sound philosophy has always admitted. But then, we may ask, How far does this resemblance extend? Does it merely exist in the bodily organs, or does it perhaps show itself in all external actions,even those of the intellect and the will? Does it extend to all the essential elements in both, or is it merely accidental, relating simply to minor actions? The answer cannot be doubtful even to the most superficial observer. We ask, therefore, Is this resemblance of an essential, or rather an accidental, character? We can only admit that the latter is the case. There is, it is true, a manifold similarity; but after all, even where this is most striking, is there not a vast discrepancy? With the lower animal, all is routine—machine-like, habitual, ever the same under similar circumstances, nor can it combine means with the end. In man, these same external actions are regulated by the will, and can be omitted or done at pleasure.Now, will Mr. Darwin say this is merely a trifle—that this, too, can be acquired by the brute after a long experience and a lapse of years? Reason and sound philosophy teach that the sensations of brutes are essentially distinct from, and in nowise contain, reason or intelligence. How, then, could reason be the product of evolution? How, then, can that be evolved which does not at all exist?We repeat it: Darwin’s conclusion is similar to this: “A dog is a cat, because, forsooth, both sleep.” He finds in man and brutes some partial similarities in mere external actions, and straightway he concludes that they are both of the same essence and parentage. As well might he say burning lamps are emanations from the sun, because they, too, give light.Instinct is almost entirely left out of account, and all expressions and external actions are attributed solely to habit and exercise repeated.[172]We by no means doubt that habit and exercise have a great deal to do with external actions. But can they all be accounted for in such a manner? When we ask, How do children, from the very first day of their birth, make use of their hands and feet, and employ their mouths in the proper way for imbibing nourishment? Mr. Darwin may answer: “This habit, too, was transmitted from parent to offspring, and indicates a long series of generations” (p. 39).But we cannot very well see how this answer will satisfy even the most credulous reader. Habits may be to a certain extent transmitted by parents to their children; but generally it is, in an imperfect state, the “tendency” or inclination, rather than the act, that is transmitted. An intemperate parent may transmit to his offspring a “tendency” to that vice; but we have not yet heard of a born drunkard.Moreover, is this principle applicable in a general manner even in regard to merely accidental habits? Experience tells us quite the contrary.Weak-minded parents often give birth to most gifted children. On the contrary, many most cultivated and intelligent parents have children who are dull and slow of understanding.But even granting that habits may be transmitted from parent to offspring, we ask, What is the nature of such habits? Are they essential elements of nature, or merely minor and trifling motions? Mr. Darwin’s own example on the point will confirm our assertion that they are of the latter sort: “A gentleman of considerable position was found by his wife to have the curious trick, when he lay fast asleep on his back in bed, of raising his right arm slowly in front of his face up to his forehead,and then dropping it with a jerk, so that the wrist fell heavily on the bridge of his nose. The trick did not occur every night, but occasionally, and was independent of any ascertained cause. Sometimes it was repeated incessantly for an hour or more. The gentleman’s nose was prominent, and its bridge often became sore from the blows which it received” (p. 34). His son, too, inherited this trick. The only difference, however, consisted in the son’s nose not being quite so prominent, and therefore less exposed to the tricky and mysterious blows.Now, what does a fact of this sort prove? Simply that slight, bodily actions, such as the one alleged, can be transmitted.“Language,” he tells us, “has been invented by man in a slow and tedious process, completed by innumerable steps half consciously made” (p. 60). It is somewhat amusing to listen to his description of this process of inventing language. “The sexes,” he says, “of many animals call for each other during the breeding season, etc. This, indeed, seems to have been the primordial use and means of development of voice” (p. 84).As an example, he alleges the cow calling for her calf, the ewes bleating for their lambs (p. 85). This theory is at least amusing, if not clear and convincing. It only adds another specimen of Mr. Darwin’s loose logic. His argument can be thus presented: There is a resemblance between the sound of a cow calling for her calf and the voice of man; therefore, the latter is derived from the former, being merely its development—they are both identical in germ. The one is perfected by the principle of evolution, which has the wonderful capacity of transforming all sorts of things.This is truly making light of that noble gift bestowed upon man by his Creator—language. But, ingenious as Mr. Darwin strives to be in assigning the origin of language, he overlooks two little points. Language he confounds, first, with mere inarticulate sounds. Secondly, he forgets that there may be a distinction between the sound or voice as a sign of an idea or of a mere sensation. To confound the two would be like comparing the tones of a piano, as produced by the hands of an artist, to the same sounds brought forth by some monkey trying his paws on the instrument.We do not know whether Mr. Darwin has much of a musical ear. If he has, even in a very slight degree, we think he would soon find a very great and specific distinction between the production of the musician and the jargon of the monkey. He would tell us, in the one case, the sounds are expressive of the musical combination and ideas of the artist, while, in the other, they are mere unmeaning sounds. So it is with language. Words express ideas. We can use them as we choose, nay, even wilfully change or disguise their true meaning. What similarity exists, then, between language and the sounds of animals? If any, it is in the sound. Does this justify the conclusion that they are both identical in germ; that the one is a development of the other? As well might we say the whistling of the wind among the leaves of trees, and the howling of the storm, are identical with the voice of man. All these sounds of nature are no less sounds than those of man and the brute; but will any man of sound mind identify them?Still, Mr. Darwin goes on with an air of perfect self-complacency: “From this fact, and from the analogyof other animals, I have been led to infer that the progenitors of man probably uttered musical tones before they had acquired the power of articulate speech” (p. 87).Of course, our progenitors here are none other than monkeys. It is quite apparent that Darwin’s notion of language is extremely inadequate and confused. He must allow us to refresh his memory a little on the subject. A word is an external sign whereby an internal thought or idea is made known to others, just as smoke is a sign of fire. Still, words are not expressive of ideas by any natural aptitude. In fact words are naturally so little adapted to express any particular concept of the mind that they may be distorted from their meaning. They are conventional signs: and except so far as they were given to our first parents by God, they have been adopted and used by positive authority, custom, or agreement to serve as a medium of thought.Herein lies one of the specific differences of human speech from the sound of animals. These give forth soundsnaturallyadapted to express some feeling. Moreover, their utterances are not chosen by themselves, but dictated by nature. They cannot change them; while man selects, varies, and changes his words at will. Hence, language is defined: “The articulate voice of man, having signification by the agreement of men.” Words are parts of a sentence, which is defined: “An assemblage of words intended to mean something.”We here waive the question whether language was invented by man at all. Our doctrine is that it was not invented, but was communicated directly by God to our first parents, Adam and Eve. But this is of no importance at present; for, whether invented by man, or directly communicated by God, Mr. Darwin’s theory is equally untenable.We sum up the differences of sound or language in man and in animals as follows:1. In man, language is the expression of thought and judgment, while the sounds of animals are merely spontaneous and natural utterances.2. Language in man is the product of reasoning; it presupposes a perception of the relation of the subject and the predicate. For instance, when I say, Man is immortal, I must perceive the relation of the attribute immortality to man. Now, the sound of the animal is merely expressive of some solitary feeling.3. Man directs his words, while the brute’s sound is ever the same.Another instance of Darwin’s logic is found in tracing the origin of the expression of sulkiness in man, especially in children. This feeling, he says, is expressed by a protrusion of the lips, or, as it is called, “making a snout.” Now, he continues, “young orangs and chimpanzees protrude their lips to an extraordinary degree, when they are discontented, somewhat angry, or sulky” (p. 234).But, lo! what is his conclusion? Therefore, he infers, this habit of man was a primordial habit in his “semi-human progenitors,” who are, of course, no less than the aforesaid honorable monkeys. Let us hear his words: “If, then, our semi-human progenitors [i.e.Messrs. Orang and Chimpanzee] protruded their lips when sulky or a little angered in the same manner as do the existing anthropoid apes, it is not an anomalous though a curious fact that our children should exhibit, when similarly affected, a trace of the same expression” (p. 234). Mr. Darwin is cunning. He wishes tacitly to infer that man comes from the animal, because both can make“snouts.” Of course, even he must concede that the monkey can make a better or at least a longer “snout” than man. And hence the principles of evolution in this case at least would imply retrogression, not progress. His mode of reasoning is strange indeed. When he finds an expression in man, he searches whether there is anything like it among the monkeys or other animals; and, when he has discovered even a slight trace, he triumphantly exclaims, Behold the progenitors of man! He does not yet call them genitors; they are not the immediate parents, but simply grandfathers and grandmothers. Nor are these progenitors quite human; they are as yet semi-human, being about half-way between the monkey phase and that of man. Speaking of man, he says: “The lips are sometimes protruded during rage in a manner the meaning of which I do not understand, unless it depends on our descent from some ape-like animal” (p. 243). Mr. Darwin manifests a strange partiality for the ape-like animals.But it is no wonder he cannot understand the plainest facts, which every Catholic child can tell him. He sets aside all revealed truths. He knows nothing about the simple but sublime narrative in the first chapter of Genesis. He ignores the creative act bringing forth, not one kind, but “the living creature in its kind, cattle, and creeping things, and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.”[173]To him, this is of no meaning. True, the Scripture records the solemn creation of man as entirely distinct from that of animals. “Let us make man,” God said, “to our image, and likeness; and let him have dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air,” etc. “And God created man to his own image: to the image of God he created him, male and female he created them.”[174]True, Darwin will say, according to the Scripture, “God breathed into his [man’s] face the breath of life, and man became a living soul.”[175]But what care I for the Scriptures, when my own private and infallible reason leads me to think that God did not directly breathe into man an intelligent soul—made after God’s own image and likeness—but rather that man received it from the animal? Such is, indeed, the result of the revolt of reason against God. Like Satan, who was cast from heaven in a moment, when desirous of elevating his throne to a level with that of God, so man falls and degrades himself when he becomes too proud to listen to God’s Word, making reason the supreme and sole criterion of truth and certitude.Mr. Darwin seems to admit a Creator of the universe, but holds that only one, or at most four, species were created. Now, we must not forget, as he certainly does, that the Creator was an infinitely intelligent being, and therefore had some object in view in creation. Every intelligent being must act for some end. We call him a fool who knows not what he is doing, and therefore is foolish. Hence, in creation, God destined each creature for some end, to accomplish a certain task. The Creator must, however, give to each creature the necessary means to attain its end. It would be unintelligible that God should destine me to walk, without giving me feet; or create me to earn my livelihood by the labor of my hands, without giving me hands to work with.Now, this principle, so universally exhibited in nature, will easily and satisfactorily explain all expressions in animals as well as in man, without obliging us to have recourse to the monkey theory so fondly adhered to by Darwin.We come now to another proof adduced by Darwin to establish his beloved ape-descending theory. It is taken from the state of an insane person (p. 245). We will allow him to speak for himself: “Its symptoms are the reappearance of primitive instincts, a faint echo from a far distant past, testifying to a kinship which man has almost outgrown” (p. 245). These are the words of Dr. Maudsley, cited and approved by him. The state of insanity in man is compared to the normal state of the animal. Again, he asks, “Why should a human being, deprived of his reason, ever become so brutal in character as some do, unless he has the brutal nature within him?” (p. 246).A more silly or childish mode of reasoning could scarcely be thought of. As well might he say the sun returns to its primitive state when in an eclipse, or an engine is working properly when the boilers explode and spread death and consternation all around.We say of the idiot, He has lost his mind. Not that it really is entirely extinct: it is merely out of working order. Its clearness is darkened by some disorder. The idiot is in a state repugnant to his natural condition. How, then, infer from such a condition a former kinship? A machine or clock out of order will, when left to itself, work indeed; not, however, returning to its normal state, but destroying itself. So it is with the idiot. It was, therefore, perhaps rather superfluous for Mr. Darwin to spend so much time and labor, and give his readers so much trouble, for the sake of finding out in how many ways idiots resemble his dear monkeys, chimpanzees, and orangs.We wonder why the case of Nabuchodonosor did not occur to him. It would have so well illustrated his theory. For he, without becoming permanently an idiot, was seized with an irresistible propensity to return, as Mr. Darwin would say, to his own brethren, and renew his old friendships and acquaintances. And so well was that gentleman pleased with his company that he remained in it not less than seven years, until it pleased God to restore him to his more intelligent and polite brothers.We would suggest to Mr. Darwin a similar experiment. He ought to be sociable, and from time to time imitate Nabuchodonosor: let his hair and beard grow until they become long feathers; his ears, too, could be extended somewhat, and the nails of his hands and feet might very well become claws; he ought also to eat grass for a while. Thus he would be fulfilling a duty to his rustic brethren, and he could at the same time enlighten them a little on bipedal civilization, especially as they will one day get to be men themselves, and therefore should try to do honor to their future relatives.Darwin may tenderly call monkeys “our nearest allies” (p. 253), or say: “The playful sneer or ferocious snarl in man reveals his animal descent” (p. 253); or again: “We may readily believe, from our affinity to the anthropomorphous apes, that our male semi-human progenitors possessed great canine teeth” (p. 253)—he may say all this, and still, we fear, he would not like to have himself introduced at the court of London as the brother of the long-tailed and widely known orang-outang. And why? Because his whole moral nature would revolt at such an indignity,and thus furnish the strongest proof, perhaps, that all his talk about ape-affinity and descent is nonsense. Human nature rebels at such a degradation. It protests instinctively against such an alliance. It is unconscious of such a relationship.Now, how is it, otherwise, that our nature is so tender with regard to all kindred? How is it that brothers and sisters and relatives love each other so much and without effort; that in all men there is a feeling of affinity toward their fellows? How, we ask, does our nature, otherwise so tenderly inclined to all relatives, even the most distant, forget in this one instance alone a relationship at once the most sacred and tender—that of a child to its parent? For we, says Mr. Darwin, are the grandchildren at least of the animal.All the materialistic cavils and speculations of so-called philosophers will suffer shipwreck on this rock—the moral feeling of the dignity and specific difference of man. But we will explain the symptoms of lunacy to Darwin in a direct manner.We grant that man has the brutish “nature within him.” We do not concede, however, that he has only the brutish nature and no other. Man has a soul as well as a body. As regards the nature of the body, we cheerfully grant all that Mr. Darwin could desire. It is of the same substance as that of his dear orang. It has, moreover, the same violent passions and downward tendencies; nay, it can—as experience teaches in fact it has—outdo the brute in violent bursts of passion. It is, moreover, regulated by the same laws of climate, food, life, etc.But this is all we concede. It has not the same origin, being directly created by God in its natural state. Much less do we admit that man is endowed with no higher nature, entirely and specifically distinct from his body. He has a soul that thinks—a soul that is entirely spiritual and intelligent, not merely sensible.We therefore answer that the state of idiots shows, indeed, that man has the brutish nature within him, but by no means that he has no other nature. Only a little logic would have shown Darwin that his conclusions embody far more than his premises will allow. It seems plain enough that this simple truth is the key to the fullest explanations of human nature itself, and its similarities with the nature of mere animals. Man was defined by the ancients as “a rational animal.” S. Thomas and the scholastics took up and perpetuated this definition. Man is an animal, because he has a body like all animals, and a soul which is created to be the form of that body. Man is, moreover, a rational being, because, unlike all the other animals, he has a soul which has a separate existence of its own, is created immediately by God, and is essentially spiritual.This distinction, if only borne in mind by our monkey theorists, would have aided them not a little, we opine, in their brain-cracking researches; nor would they have found so many mysteries where everything is plain and intelligible.We now proceed to another principle advanced in the book before us. Darwin says: “That the chief expressive actions exhibited by man and by the lower animals are innate or inherited—that is, have not been learnt by the individual—is now admitted by every one” (p. 351).He must allow us to say that such a proposition is, in our estimation, not admitted by every one. With the exception of the author and a few monkeyists, we know of no one who ever advocated any such principle.It is indeed conceded that a “tendency” to most of our expressive actions may be innate or inherited; but, as to the actions and expressions themselves, it is commonly taught by all the schools that they are performed by instinct and reason, and perfected by imitation and experience. What Mr. Darwin means when he calls expressions innate and inherited is not the former—the tendency—but the action itself as transmitted from the father to the son. He illustrates his meaning by an example, not quite suitable for our pages, which may be found by the curious on p. 44 of his work. If anything, this example shows that dogs, and wolves, and jackals are guided by no reason, and do not apply the proper means to attain an end. But does it follow that man, too, has inherited his external movements from such progenitors as monkeys? Does not man direct even all his external actions by reason? It is true, he may be led away by passion; but that is an exception, and only proves the rule.But we go further. The Catholic Church teaches that the human race is descended from one common pair—Adam and Eve. From them the whole human race was propagated. Darwin, too, teaches the unity of mankind. But his is quite a different unity. Not only do all men descend from a common human parent, according to him, but both animals and men have a common parent; so that originally there existed one animal, from which all the rest, men included, derive their origin.Now, we should naturally expect that so grave an inference would be based upon a no less weighty proof. But herein we are sadly mistaken. His whole argument rests upon a resemblance of some external actions common to mankind: “I have endeavored to show in considerable detail that all the chief expressions in man are the same throughout the world. This fact is interesting, as it affords a new argument in favor of the several races being descended from a single parent stock, which must have been almost completely human in structure, and to a large extent in mind, before the period at which races diverged from each other” (p. 361).This argument may do very well to confirm the doctrine of the church; but we do not see how it will establish the ape theory, any more than it would to infer that the sun and moon are alike because they both shine. It is really amusing to hear our author so innocently say: “We may confidently believe that laughter, as a sign of pleasure or enjoyment, was practised by our progenitors long before they deserved to be called human” (p. 362).From all this it is at least evident that our poor progenitors had to undergo a long novitiate to become invested with the habits proper to man. Theirs, indeed, must have been a tedious process before attaining human activity. One thing, however, he forgets to tell us. It is the period when such a change of the species occurred. Theory may sound very well; but we know of no fact of the kind. How is it that, as long as the world can remember, no monkey ever became a man, or a tree a pig? We cannot exactly agree with Darwin, therefore, when he calls the “anthropomorphous apes our nearest allies and our early progenitors” (p. 363). We are quite aware of the answer he gives to this objection in his book, onThe Origin of Species. But it may well be compared to the method of those romance writers who take good care to place the scene of the heroic exploits of their heroes infar distant lands as yet unknown and unexplored. Thus they may write volume after volume, without any danger of being convicted of telling stories and building castles in the air. So Darwin. In hisOrigin of Species, he pretends that the change from one species to another is so long and gradual that it may comprise even millions of years. As a conjecture, this may pass; but as an argument in support of a most elaborate system, we fail to see its efficacy.We will now pass to another argument. Speaking of frowning as shading the eyes, he says: “It seems probable that this shading action would not have become habitual until man had assumed a completely upright position; for monkeys do not frown when exposed to a glaring light” (p. 363). This phrase can be made plainer when paraphrased as follows: It is a theory, established by me beyond any doubt, that man is the offspring of the monkey. Now, the monkey does not frown or shade his eyes, even when exposed to the most glaring light of the sun. Hence, it follows that frowning is an action peculiarly adapted only to an upright position. And hence, too, no wonder that the orang did not make use of it as long as he was walking on all fours and bent downwards. Hence, we must infer that frowning became a habit, then, only when the ape, thinking that he had walked long enough on all fours, and that he might, without any particular inconvenience to himself, dispense with two feet, stood upright, and became a man. This is the meaning of his words. On the same principle the following conjecture is based: “Our early progenitors, when indignant, would not hold their heads erect until they had acquired the ordinary carriage and upright attitude of man” (p. 363). Its sense is: As our first parents were brutes, and as we find that in no instance they held their heads erect when angry or indignant, it follows, of course, that this action was acquired only after they made use of their hind feet to walk, and when the fore paws became hands.Blushing is considered by Darwin an expression that requires attention to one’s personal defects. Now, as it has not been observed in any monkey or other animal, he of course infers that it became habitual only when, having emerged from the monkey phase of existence, we became semi-human.“But it does not seem possible”—these are his words—“that any animal, until its mental powers had been developed to an equal or nearly equal degree with those of man, would have closely considered and been sensitive about its own personal appearance” (p. 364).Thus far we perfectly agree with him. Blushing is an act predicable only of an intelligent being. Hence, it is quite logical to say that animals could not possess it, unless almost as perfect as man. But we by no means so readily coincide with his conclusion, namely: “Therefore, we may conclude that blushing originated at a very late period in the long line of our descent” (p. 364).If this were true, it would likewise follow that man ought to become more prone to blushing as he advances in years. This, however, it will be confessed, is not the case. Quite the reverse frequently happens. Youth and innocence blush, while age and vice grow daily more barefaced and unblushing. Now, if blushing were a mere habit acquired and developed by physical evolution, how does it come to pass that full-grown men who are givento immorality lose that blush which rose to their cheeks when young and innocent? Daily experience only too well tells the tale how the maiden blush becomes dimmer and fades entirely when the career of sin and shame has been once entered upon. Where, then, is the philosophy of Darwin’s principle?It is quite true, he tells us, that “we cannot cause a blush by any physical means. It is the mind which must be affected” (p. 310); “that the causes of blushing are shyness, shame, and modesty; the essential element in all being self-attention” (p. 326). Again, he continues: “Many reasons can be assigned [as causes of blushing] for believing that originally self-attention directed to personal appearance in relation to the opinion of others was the exciting cause. Moral causes are only secondary; the same effect being subsequently produced through the force of association by self-attention in relation to moral conduct” (p. 326).This shows that, with Darwin, morality is a mere matter of etiquette. “But modesty,” he continues, “frequently relates to acts of indelicacy; and indelicacy is an affair of etiquette, as we clearly see with the nations that go altogether or nearly naked. He who is modest, and blushes easily at acts of this nature, does so because they are breaches of a firmly and wisely established etiquette” (p. 335).From this, then, it is clear that morality, chastity, and every species of virtue are nothing more than the external code of regulations which society has agreed upon in its social intercourse. In other words, all virtue and morality consist in what we call good breeding. We blush, not because we break the law of God, but because we violate the precept of man. Darwin’s ten commandments, we think, might well be summed up as follows: First commandment: Society is the Lord God of man; thou shalt adore it alone, by minutely observing all its external regulations, called etiquette. 2d. Thou shalt not take its name in vain by saying that man and society can commit any wrong, or be anything but perfect. 3d. Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath; that is, go to church on Sunday, because others do so, and etiquette demands it. 4th. Honor thy father and thy mother, because it is customary to do so. 5th. Thou shalt not be so common a criminal as to kill a man by direct physical means; but remember that thou must hold every man to be a rogue and a knave until he proves the contrary. Thou mayest even, especially when thou art a congressman, take an oath, without being particular as to the truth of thy statement. 6th and 9th. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Now, as marriage is merely an ordinary contract, that can of course be dissolved when the parties mutually agree, go to court, obtain a divorce, and thou canst marry the wife of another. As to thoughts against the sixth commandment, thou must not trouble thy head too much about them. They are nature’s legitimate ebullitions. 7th. Thou shalt not steal in open daylight, but get as much as thou canst without being detected. This would constitute the moral code of Darwin. If morality is reduced to etiquette, it is evident that its obligation is merely external.Finally, we come to another point in the book onThe Expressions, etc. It is a curious instance of our former propensities in a primeval state. At some time or other, we are told, we were possessed of long ears, and movable at that, such as we see in the mule and dog. The elephant,also, would afford a pretty good specimen, its ears being long and quite flexible.But let us hear him: “If our ears had remained movable, their movements would have been highly expressive, as is the case with all the animals which fight with their teeth; and we may infer that our early progenitors thus fought” (p. 365). Well, we do not by any means doubt that these movables would be highly expressive in man. Just imagine, for instance, Mr. Darwin going through the streets of New York with a pair of long ears, moving and flapping to his heart’s content! Why, the New York papers would hail it as a godsend, and the urchins on Broadway would go in ecstasies over it.Our interesting author winds up his somewhat lengthy dissertations with the inference that his reasonings on the “expression of emotions” afford another confirmatory proof of his theory that man is the offspring of the monkey. His two volumes on theDescent of Manwere intended as the corner-stone of his building. This later work was to finish it. The great pity is that he is building a castle in the air. He gives no proof. Similarities in man and animals may afford ground for suppositions, but can never cause conviction.“We have seen,” he says, “that the study of the theory of ‘expression’ confirms, to a certain limited extent, the conclusion that man is derived from some lower animal form, and supports the belief of the specific or sub-specific unity of the several races” (p. 367).We are now done with Darwin. In perusing the volume, we confess it was not without a feeling of deep sadness at so much blindness combined with no ordinary degree of learning and research. Darwin is a student of no mean class. His research shows that no pains were spared. His numerous examples demonstrate that he is perfectly at home in natural sciences. Mixed up with error, there is in his book a great deal both interesting and highly instructive. His conclusions might perhaps be correct if there existed no God, no revelation, and no eternity. He is a striking example of men who set aside the revealed Word of God, and take reason as their sole guide and standard in the search after wisdom.It may not be amiss to subjoin a few general principles that will refute even more fully the sophisms of the author.We lay it down as a certain proposition that sensation is essentially distinct from intelligence. Sensation is defined: “A certain impression present to the mind, caused by an external agent on an animated body.”[176]This external impression is received by five sensible organs, viz.: touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight. These are evidently material organs, having size, weight, figure, extension, distance, number, motion, and rest. The same is the case with the object causing the impressions.Now, is there any specific difference between sensation and intelligence? Is the understanding of man entirely different from the sensation of the brute? Or is it merely a development of the latter? If we believe Darwin, there is no real difference, except that the one is more perfect than the other. In the monkey, there exists the same faculty of intelligence as in man. In the former, however, it is in its incipient stage; in the latter, it is matured and developed. Can such a theory be reconciled with philosophy? We believe not. Infact, the difference between sensation and intelligence can be given as follows: 1. Sensations are external impressions which are not produced by the mind, but merely received; hence they are passive; whilst the understanding of man is essentially the actor, and not merely the recipient. 2. Again, “Sensations are particular facts which never leave their own sphere.”[177]Intelligence forms ideas that are universal and absolute, being applicable to all individuals.Moreover, sensation does not distinguish one object from the other, neither does it compare them. The illustrious Spaniard whom we have already quoted illustrates this by saying: “The sensation of the pink is only that of the pink, and that of the rose only that of the rose. The instant you attempt to compare them you suppose in the mind an act by which it perceives the difference; and, if you attribute to it anything more than pure sensation, you add a faculty distinct from sensation, namely, that of comparing sensations, and appreciating their similarities and differences.”[178]This, indeed, is evident. Sensation is simply the external impression received. As such, it is an isolated act. It does not compare or judge.The idea, for instance, of the triangle is one, and is common to all triangles of every size and kind; the representation or sensation is multiple, and varies in size and kind.Again, the idea or thought of the mind is fixed and necessary; the representation changeable.The idea,e.g., of the triangle is “the same to the man born blind, and to him who has sight; and the proof of this is that both, in their arguments and geometrical uses, develop it in the same manner.”[179]From what has been thus far said, it is evident that there exists a dividing line between the intellect and sensation; that the one is in no sense contained in the other, and cannot by any process be derived from it. Darwin is a mere sensist. He understands little of the nature and faculties of the human soul. He ignores any essential distinction between the intellect and sensation.There is, indeed, it may be observed, a close connection between the two. Sensation is the condition of the exercise of the intellect while we are in this life. It supplies food for the intelligence. It always precedes and accompanies the intellectual act. Thus, when we think of God’s mercy, we easily imagine God as a kind father, etc.But such is the case only in human intelligence. We have a spirit in a material and sensible body. Our intellect, by its substantial union with the body, is bound to adapt its exercises to the conditions imposed by this union. But unless we deny all revelation, we must admit the existence of celestial spirits who are not possessed of and encumbered by any body. These, then, need no visible organs, no external sensation, no sensible representation, to arouse and excite their intellect to action. Hence, it follows that the connection existing between sensation and intelligence is not essential.We shall now examine some other acts of the intellect, to confirm what we have said. Judgment is one of the principal acts of the mind. It is defined: “The perception and affirmation of the identity or diversity of two ideas or propositions obtained by comparing them.”[180]Thus, in the proposition, “Man is mortal,” the mind compares the ideas manand “mortal,” and affirms their identity. The sensation, however, is an isolated impression on the mind, a single fact. Another feature of human actions is the purpose or end for which a thing is done. The dog may do things that have great similarity to human actions; but close observation will easily convince one that the brute does so in a uniform manner, and consequently is impelled by natural instinct. Man, however, sits down and deliberates. He proposes some object to be accomplished, and carefully selects the means best calculated to attain that end. He changes his means at will, according to the circumstances of the case. Does any animal, even be it Darwin’s darling monkey, do anything of the kind? Moreover, the end or purpose may be inherent in the act itself; thus, the sun gives heat and light. An end, however, may not arise essentially out of the nature of things, but may be freely intended; thus, man chooses different objects, while animals necessarily perform them. Again, man observes order in his actions. Order is defined: “A proper disposition of things, giving to each its place”;[181]or, “A composition, and arranging things according to their proper place.”[182]This arrangement may be made either in relation to the matter, or time, or the object. Now, do we ever behold animals displaying order in their actions? Has even Darwin ever seen a monkey arranging books in a library in such a manner as to place alongside each other those relating to one subject? We doubt it. We conclude this review by summing up, in Darwin’s words, the principles by which he contends that all our ideas are acquired. The first is the principle of serviceable associated habits. According to it, we gradually acquire all those habits, ideas, and expressions that conduce to our interest or gratification. The second is that of antithesis—that is, when something offered to our interest occurs, we adopt contrary actions and ideas. The third is styled by Darwin the principle of actions due to the constitution of the nervous system, independently, from the first, of the will, and independently, to a certain extent, of habit. This last principle is simply what is commonly called instinct. No one denies that it causes many actions pertaining to our welfare; but no man of sound mind will derive from it intelligence. The first and second principles can be reduced to that of utilitarianism. In plain language, it amounts to this: if all the actions, thoughts, and desires of man are regulated merely in accordance with each one’s private gratification, there would be no such thing as being concerned about the welfare of others. We finish by recalling the fundamental idea underlying this work. There are, Darwin tells us, striking similarities between the external expressions exhibited by man and the animal. These cannot be explained except on the supposition that the former descends by a long and slow process of generation from the latter. This is styled natural evolution.There is, we admit, a germ of truth in the theory of evolution. The mistake is in applying it without limit. The Catholic Church teaches, 1. that the soul of man is immediately created by God. 2. That the human body also was created in like manner. This latter, however, is not so explicitly defined as the former. 3. It is a commonly received opinion of theologians that all the principal species of the animal were created directly by God. 4. That,however, imperfect species, such as hybrids and those generated by corruption, perspiration—e.g., fleas—were created only in germ, orpotentiali modo.From this, it is not difficult to see how far a Catholic may accept the theory of evolution. Scientists should not forget that reason is the handmaid of revelation.
The Expressions of the Emotions in Man and Animalsis the title of the latest work written by Charles Darwin. This author has already gained a pretty widespread name by his two volumes on theDescent of Man, and onThe Origin of Species. In all these, he advocates the theory of only one parent and progenitor, common both to man and to the animal.
Man is the offspring of the brute. The only distinction between them is that of a more perfect development. Man is a monkey perfectly developed. This developing process is no other than habit transmitted, imitation, and practice.
This theory is supposed in the volume before us—The Expressions, etc. It is, indeed, taken for granted, and Mr. Darwin merely seeks confirmatory proofs in this work. How he does so we shall see.
The reasoning of the entire volume may be summed up in the following syllogism: The expressions of the emotions in man and animals are, for the most part, similar, nay, alike. Now, this could not be so, did man not descend from the animal; therefore, man is the offspring of the brute.
Of course, he will have to admit some accidental differences in the expressions of each. But these he easily gets over by saying that in man those external expressions of the emotions are already perfected, matured, and developed, while in animals they are as yet budding, developing, and perfecting.
The principle of evolution would seem to account for all differences. The animal, by evolving its faculties in a long series of years, rises gradually to a higher species, and finally, having walked on all fours, comes to the conclusion it would be better and more sensible to use only two feet. Having looked downward for a long time, it begins to think it would be more honorable and decent to assume an upright posture. And then, grunting and howling are by no means as becoming as speaking French, or Italian, or Chinese; hence, Mr. Orang comes to the conclusion that he has been silent long enough, and that it is time that he, too, should have his say about matters.
We do not say that this is all expressed in so many words in the volume before us. Oh! no; Mr. Darwin is too adroit to do that. Like the devil, he sometimes assumes the garment of light, and puts on an appearance of virtue. His words are characterized by a tone of modesty and humility and even diffidence which is not common to that class of writers. He does not directly affirm anything; but he asks questions that contain a negative answer. He insinuates. He does not tell us man is a monkey, but he affirms that man expresses his feelings in the same manner as do these animals. Hence how explain this similarity, if they be not brothers?
We call attention to this fact. It alone can render his work dangerous to youthful or unguarded minds. We think there is little to fear that its frivolous arguments will excite anything but laughter and ridicule among men of solid erudition.
Unfortunately, the ideas embodiedin this book are the creed of many enlightened persons, even, of this “progressive” age. This alone accounts for the favor and widespread circulation Darwin’s writings have acquired. Protestantism has done its work only too well. Casting off all authority in matters of faith, it has paved the way to all errors, and its theory has merely been developed by our modern materialists.
We are not disposed to deny the great labor and varied research employed in the work before us; but, we must say, seldom has it been our lot to witness such shallowness of argument, such loose connection between premises and conclusions. It will astonish the intelligent reader that so earnest a student as Mr. Darwin evidently is, could make use of logic in a manner discreditable to any tyro.
But we must not wonder at this. The drunkard sees things turning topsy-turvy, when in reality they stand still. One who wears green spectacles will behold objects in a green or pale color. We are apt to judge things according to preconceived ideas or a certain state of mind. So Mr. Darwin: his great hobby is to make man a monkey, andvice versa. Hence, he takes slight resemblances between the two as certain proof of his theory. Thus, he says: “With mankind, some expressions, such as the bristling of the hair under the influence of extreme terror, can hardly be understood except on the belief that man once existed in a much lower and animal-like condition. The community of certain expressions in distinct though allied species, as in the movements of the same facial muscles during laughter by man and by various monkeys, is rendered somewhat more intelligible if we believe in their common progenitor. He who admits on general principles that the structure and habits of all animals have been gradually evolved, will look at the whole subject of expressions in a new and interesting light.”[171]
This language is clear and unmistakable, though its meaning be artfully disguised. The logic of his conclusions, however, is not equally satisfactory. Why trace man’s origin to the monkey, because, forsooth, his hair bristles when angry? Or is it really so necessary to make man a brute because the same facial muscles move during laughter? We had always thought that these accidental resemblances were more than sufficiently explained by the simple fact that man, besides his immortal soul, is possessed of a body also, which, being material, is subject in many respects to the laws of other animals. We say, in fact, man is a rational animal. He is composed of matter and spirit. As regards his body, he is subject to the same laws as those which regulate animals.
Mr. Darwin has in his conclusions what is not contained in his premises, and hence he falls into a grave error in regard to the first principles of logic and sound reasoning. It is quite logical and perfectly true to say man has some exterior or bodily motions and expressions similar to those of other animals, and therefore that his bodily organs have some relation and similarity with those of the lower animals; nay, we may even infer the same essence to be common to the bodily organs of both. Thus much strict logic will allow. Thus much sound philosophy has always admitted. But then, we may ask, How far does this resemblance extend? Does it merely exist in the bodily organs, or does it perhaps show itself in all external actions,even those of the intellect and the will? Does it extend to all the essential elements in both, or is it merely accidental, relating simply to minor actions? The answer cannot be doubtful even to the most superficial observer. We ask, therefore, Is this resemblance of an essential, or rather an accidental, character? We can only admit that the latter is the case. There is, it is true, a manifold similarity; but after all, even where this is most striking, is there not a vast discrepancy? With the lower animal, all is routine—machine-like, habitual, ever the same under similar circumstances, nor can it combine means with the end. In man, these same external actions are regulated by the will, and can be omitted or done at pleasure.
Now, will Mr. Darwin say this is merely a trifle—that this, too, can be acquired by the brute after a long experience and a lapse of years? Reason and sound philosophy teach that the sensations of brutes are essentially distinct from, and in nowise contain, reason or intelligence. How, then, could reason be the product of evolution? How, then, can that be evolved which does not at all exist?
We repeat it: Darwin’s conclusion is similar to this: “A dog is a cat, because, forsooth, both sleep.” He finds in man and brutes some partial similarities in mere external actions, and straightway he concludes that they are both of the same essence and parentage. As well might he say burning lamps are emanations from the sun, because they, too, give light.
Instinct is almost entirely left out of account, and all expressions and external actions are attributed solely to habit and exercise repeated.[172]We by no means doubt that habit and exercise have a great deal to do with external actions. But can they all be accounted for in such a manner? When we ask, How do children, from the very first day of their birth, make use of their hands and feet, and employ their mouths in the proper way for imbibing nourishment? Mr. Darwin may answer: “This habit, too, was transmitted from parent to offspring, and indicates a long series of generations” (p. 39).
But we cannot very well see how this answer will satisfy even the most credulous reader. Habits may be to a certain extent transmitted by parents to their children; but generally it is, in an imperfect state, the “tendency” or inclination, rather than the act, that is transmitted. An intemperate parent may transmit to his offspring a “tendency” to that vice; but we have not yet heard of a born drunkard.
Moreover, is this principle applicable in a general manner even in regard to merely accidental habits? Experience tells us quite the contrary.
Weak-minded parents often give birth to most gifted children. On the contrary, many most cultivated and intelligent parents have children who are dull and slow of understanding.
But even granting that habits may be transmitted from parent to offspring, we ask, What is the nature of such habits? Are they essential elements of nature, or merely minor and trifling motions? Mr. Darwin’s own example on the point will confirm our assertion that they are of the latter sort: “A gentleman of considerable position was found by his wife to have the curious trick, when he lay fast asleep on his back in bed, of raising his right arm slowly in front of his face up to his forehead,and then dropping it with a jerk, so that the wrist fell heavily on the bridge of his nose. The trick did not occur every night, but occasionally, and was independent of any ascertained cause. Sometimes it was repeated incessantly for an hour or more. The gentleman’s nose was prominent, and its bridge often became sore from the blows which it received” (p. 34). His son, too, inherited this trick. The only difference, however, consisted in the son’s nose not being quite so prominent, and therefore less exposed to the tricky and mysterious blows.
Now, what does a fact of this sort prove? Simply that slight, bodily actions, such as the one alleged, can be transmitted.
“Language,” he tells us, “has been invented by man in a slow and tedious process, completed by innumerable steps half consciously made” (p. 60). It is somewhat amusing to listen to his description of this process of inventing language. “The sexes,” he says, “of many animals call for each other during the breeding season, etc. This, indeed, seems to have been the primordial use and means of development of voice” (p. 84).
As an example, he alleges the cow calling for her calf, the ewes bleating for their lambs (p. 85). This theory is at least amusing, if not clear and convincing. It only adds another specimen of Mr. Darwin’s loose logic. His argument can be thus presented: There is a resemblance between the sound of a cow calling for her calf and the voice of man; therefore, the latter is derived from the former, being merely its development—they are both identical in germ. The one is perfected by the principle of evolution, which has the wonderful capacity of transforming all sorts of things.
This is truly making light of that noble gift bestowed upon man by his Creator—language. But, ingenious as Mr. Darwin strives to be in assigning the origin of language, he overlooks two little points. Language he confounds, first, with mere inarticulate sounds. Secondly, he forgets that there may be a distinction between the sound or voice as a sign of an idea or of a mere sensation. To confound the two would be like comparing the tones of a piano, as produced by the hands of an artist, to the same sounds brought forth by some monkey trying his paws on the instrument.
We do not know whether Mr. Darwin has much of a musical ear. If he has, even in a very slight degree, we think he would soon find a very great and specific distinction between the production of the musician and the jargon of the monkey. He would tell us, in the one case, the sounds are expressive of the musical combination and ideas of the artist, while, in the other, they are mere unmeaning sounds. So it is with language. Words express ideas. We can use them as we choose, nay, even wilfully change or disguise their true meaning. What similarity exists, then, between language and the sounds of animals? If any, it is in the sound. Does this justify the conclusion that they are both identical in germ; that the one is a development of the other? As well might we say the whistling of the wind among the leaves of trees, and the howling of the storm, are identical with the voice of man. All these sounds of nature are no less sounds than those of man and the brute; but will any man of sound mind identify them?
Still, Mr. Darwin goes on with an air of perfect self-complacency: “From this fact, and from the analogyof other animals, I have been led to infer that the progenitors of man probably uttered musical tones before they had acquired the power of articulate speech” (p. 87).
Of course, our progenitors here are none other than monkeys. It is quite apparent that Darwin’s notion of language is extremely inadequate and confused. He must allow us to refresh his memory a little on the subject. A word is an external sign whereby an internal thought or idea is made known to others, just as smoke is a sign of fire. Still, words are not expressive of ideas by any natural aptitude. In fact words are naturally so little adapted to express any particular concept of the mind that they may be distorted from their meaning. They are conventional signs: and except so far as they were given to our first parents by God, they have been adopted and used by positive authority, custom, or agreement to serve as a medium of thought.
Herein lies one of the specific differences of human speech from the sound of animals. These give forth soundsnaturallyadapted to express some feeling. Moreover, their utterances are not chosen by themselves, but dictated by nature. They cannot change them; while man selects, varies, and changes his words at will. Hence, language is defined: “The articulate voice of man, having signification by the agreement of men.” Words are parts of a sentence, which is defined: “An assemblage of words intended to mean something.”
We here waive the question whether language was invented by man at all. Our doctrine is that it was not invented, but was communicated directly by God to our first parents, Adam and Eve. But this is of no importance at present; for, whether invented by man, or directly communicated by God, Mr. Darwin’s theory is equally untenable.
We sum up the differences of sound or language in man and in animals as follows:
1. In man, language is the expression of thought and judgment, while the sounds of animals are merely spontaneous and natural utterances.
2. Language in man is the product of reasoning; it presupposes a perception of the relation of the subject and the predicate. For instance, when I say, Man is immortal, I must perceive the relation of the attribute immortality to man. Now, the sound of the animal is merely expressive of some solitary feeling.
3. Man directs his words, while the brute’s sound is ever the same.
Another instance of Darwin’s logic is found in tracing the origin of the expression of sulkiness in man, especially in children. This feeling, he says, is expressed by a protrusion of the lips, or, as it is called, “making a snout.” Now, he continues, “young orangs and chimpanzees protrude their lips to an extraordinary degree, when they are discontented, somewhat angry, or sulky” (p. 234).
But, lo! what is his conclusion? Therefore, he infers, this habit of man was a primordial habit in his “semi-human progenitors,” who are, of course, no less than the aforesaid honorable monkeys. Let us hear his words: “If, then, our semi-human progenitors [i.e.Messrs. Orang and Chimpanzee] protruded their lips when sulky or a little angered in the same manner as do the existing anthropoid apes, it is not an anomalous though a curious fact that our children should exhibit, when similarly affected, a trace of the same expression” (p. 234). Mr. Darwin is cunning. He wishes tacitly to infer that man comes from the animal, because both can make“snouts.” Of course, even he must concede that the monkey can make a better or at least a longer “snout” than man. And hence the principles of evolution in this case at least would imply retrogression, not progress. His mode of reasoning is strange indeed. When he finds an expression in man, he searches whether there is anything like it among the monkeys or other animals; and, when he has discovered even a slight trace, he triumphantly exclaims, Behold the progenitors of man! He does not yet call them genitors; they are not the immediate parents, but simply grandfathers and grandmothers. Nor are these progenitors quite human; they are as yet semi-human, being about half-way between the monkey phase and that of man. Speaking of man, he says: “The lips are sometimes protruded during rage in a manner the meaning of which I do not understand, unless it depends on our descent from some ape-like animal” (p. 243). Mr. Darwin manifests a strange partiality for the ape-like animals.
But it is no wonder he cannot understand the plainest facts, which every Catholic child can tell him. He sets aside all revealed truths. He knows nothing about the simple but sublime narrative in the first chapter of Genesis. He ignores the creative act bringing forth, not one kind, but “the living creature in its kind, cattle, and creeping things, and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.”[173]To him, this is of no meaning. True, the Scripture records the solemn creation of man as entirely distinct from that of animals. “Let us make man,” God said, “to our image, and likeness; and let him have dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air,” etc. “And God created man to his own image: to the image of God he created him, male and female he created them.”[174]True, Darwin will say, according to the Scripture, “God breathed into his [man’s] face the breath of life, and man became a living soul.”[175]
But what care I for the Scriptures, when my own private and infallible reason leads me to think that God did not directly breathe into man an intelligent soul—made after God’s own image and likeness—but rather that man received it from the animal? Such is, indeed, the result of the revolt of reason against God. Like Satan, who was cast from heaven in a moment, when desirous of elevating his throne to a level with that of God, so man falls and degrades himself when he becomes too proud to listen to God’s Word, making reason the supreme and sole criterion of truth and certitude.
Mr. Darwin seems to admit a Creator of the universe, but holds that only one, or at most four, species were created. Now, we must not forget, as he certainly does, that the Creator was an infinitely intelligent being, and therefore had some object in view in creation. Every intelligent being must act for some end. We call him a fool who knows not what he is doing, and therefore is foolish. Hence, in creation, God destined each creature for some end, to accomplish a certain task. The Creator must, however, give to each creature the necessary means to attain its end. It would be unintelligible that God should destine me to walk, without giving me feet; or create me to earn my livelihood by the labor of my hands, without giving me hands to work with.
Now, this principle, so universally exhibited in nature, will easily and satisfactorily explain all expressions in animals as well as in man, without obliging us to have recourse to the monkey theory so fondly adhered to by Darwin.
We come now to another proof adduced by Darwin to establish his beloved ape-descending theory. It is taken from the state of an insane person (p. 245). We will allow him to speak for himself: “Its symptoms are the reappearance of primitive instincts, a faint echo from a far distant past, testifying to a kinship which man has almost outgrown” (p. 245). These are the words of Dr. Maudsley, cited and approved by him. The state of insanity in man is compared to the normal state of the animal. Again, he asks, “Why should a human being, deprived of his reason, ever become so brutal in character as some do, unless he has the brutal nature within him?” (p. 246).
A more silly or childish mode of reasoning could scarcely be thought of. As well might he say the sun returns to its primitive state when in an eclipse, or an engine is working properly when the boilers explode and spread death and consternation all around.
We say of the idiot, He has lost his mind. Not that it really is entirely extinct: it is merely out of working order. Its clearness is darkened by some disorder. The idiot is in a state repugnant to his natural condition. How, then, infer from such a condition a former kinship? A machine or clock out of order will, when left to itself, work indeed; not, however, returning to its normal state, but destroying itself. So it is with the idiot. It was, therefore, perhaps rather superfluous for Mr. Darwin to spend so much time and labor, and give his readers so much trouble, for the sake of finding out in how many ways idiots resemble his dear monkeys, chimpanzees, and orangs.
We wonder why the case of Nabuchodonosor did not occur to him. It would have so well illustrated his theory. For he, without becoming permanently an idiot, was seized with an irresistible propensity to return, as Mr. Darwin would say, to his own brethren, and renew his old friendships and acquaintances. And so well was that gentleman pleased with his company that he remained in it not less than seven years, until it pleased God to restore him to his more intelligent and polite brothers.
We would suggest to Mr. Darwin a similar experiment. He ought to be sociable, and from time to time imitate Nabuchodonosor: let his hair and beard grow until they become long feathers; his ears, too, could be extended somewhat, and the nails of his hands and feet might very well become claws; he ought also to eat grass for a while. Thus he would be fulfilling a duty to his rustic brethren, and he could at the same time enlighten them a little on bipedal civilization, especially as they will one day get to be men themselves, and therefore should try to do honor to their future relatives.
Darwin may tenderly call monkeys “our nearest allies” (p. 253), or say: “The playful sneer or ferocious snarl in man reveals his animal descent” (p. 253); or again: “We may readily believe, from our affinity to the anthropomorphous apes, that our male semi-human progenitors possessed great canine teeth” (p. 253)—he may say all this, and still, we fear, he would not like to have himself introduced at the court of London as the brother of the long-tailed and widely known orang-outang. And why? Because his whole moral nature would revolt at such an indignity,and thus furnish the strongest proof, perhaps, that all his talk about ape-affinity and descent is nonsense. Human nature rebels at such a degradation. It protests instinctively against such an alliance. It is unconscious of such a relationship.
Now, how is it, otherwise, that our nature is so tender with regard to all kindred? How is it that brothers and sisters and relatives love each other so much and without effort; that in all men there is a feeling of affinity toward their fellows? How, we ask, does our nature, otherwise so tenderly inclined to all relatives, even the most distant, forget in this one instance alone a relationship at once the most sacred and tender—that of a child to its parent? For we, says Mr. Darwin, are the grandchildren at least of the animal.
All the materialistic cavils and speculations of so-called philosophers will suffer shipwreck on this rock—the moral feeling of the dignity and specific difference of man. But we will explain the symptoms of lunacy to Darwin in a direct manner.
We grant that man has the brutish “nature within him.” We do not concede, however, that he has only the brutish nature and no other. Man has a soul as well as a body. As regards the nature of the body, we cheerfully grant all that Mr. Darwin could desire. It is of the same substance as that of his dear orang. It has, moreover, the same violent passions and downward tendencies; nay, it can—as experience teaches in fact it has—outdo the brute in violent bursts of passion. It is, moreover, regulated by the same laws of climate, food, life, etc.
But this is all we concede. It has not the same origin, being directly created by God in its natural state. Much less do we admit that man is endowed with no higher nature, entirely and specifically distinct from his body. He has a soul that thinks—a soul that is entirely spiritual and intelligent, not merely sensible.
We therefore answer that the state of idiots shows, indeed, that man has the brutish nature within him, but by no means that he has no other nature. Only a little logic would have shown Darwin that his conclusions embody far more than his premises will allow. It seems plain enough that this simple truth is the key to the fullest explanations of human nature itself, and its similarities with the nature of mere animals. Man was defined by the ancients as “a rational animal.” S. Thomas and the scholastics took up and perpetuated this definition. Man is an animal, because he has a body like all animals, and a soul which is created to be the form of that body. Man is, moreover, a rational being, because, unlike all the other animals, he has a soul which has a separate existence of its own, is created immediately by God, and is essentially spiritual.
This distinction, if only borne in mind by our monkey theorists, would have aided them not a little, we opine, in their brain-cracking researches; nor would they have found so many mysteries where everything is plain and intelligible.
We now proceed to another principle advanced in the book before us. Darwin says: “That the chief expressive actions exhibited by man and by the lower animals are innate or inherited—that is, have not been learnt by the individual—is now admitted by every one” (p. 351).
He must allow us to say that such a proposition is, in our estimation, not admitted by every one. With the exception of the author and a few monkeyists, we know of no one who ever advocated any such principle.It is indeed conceded that a “tendency” to most of our expressive actions may be innate or inherited; but, as to the actions and expressions themselves, it is commonly taught by all the schools that they are performed by instinct and reason, and perfected by imitation and experience. What Mr. Darwin means when he calls expressions innate and inherited is not the former—the tendency—but the action itself as transmitted from the father to the son. He illustrates his meaning by an example, not quite suitable for our pages, which may be found by the curious on p. 44 of his work. If anything, this example shows that dogs, and wolves, and jackals are guided by no reason, and do not apply the proper means to attain an end. But does it follow that man, too, has inherited his external movements from such progenitors as monkeys? Does not man direct even all his external actions by reason? It is true, he may be led away by passion; but that is an exception, and only proves the rule.
But we go further. The Catholic Church teaches that the human race is descended from one common pair—Adam and Eve. From them the whole human race was propagated. Darwin, too, teaches the unity of mankind. But his is quite a different unity. Not only do all men descend from a common human parent, according to him, but both animals and men have a common parent; so that originally there existed one animal, from which all the rest, men included, derive their origin.
Now, we should naturally expect that so grave an inference would be based upon a no less weighty proof. But herein we are sadly mistaken. His whole argument rests upon a resemblance of some external actions common to mankind: “I have endeavored to show in considerable detail that all the chief expressions in man are the same throughout the world. This fact is interesting, as it affords a new argument in favor of the several races being descended from a single parent stock, which must have been almost completely human in structure, and to a large extent in mind, before the period at which races diverged from each other” (p. 361).
This argument may do very well to confirm the doctrine of the church; but we do not see how it will establish the ape theory, any more than it would to infer that the sun and moon are alike because they both shine. It is really amusing to hear our author so innocently say: “We may confidently believe that laughter, as a sign of pleasure or enjoyment, was practised by our progenitors long before they deserved to be called human” (p. 362).
From all this it is at least evident that our poor progenitors had to undergo a long novitiate to become invested with the habits proper to man. Theirs, indeed, must have been a tedious process before attaining human activity. One thing, however, he forgets to tell us. It is the period when such a change of the species occurred. Theory may sound very well; but we know of no fact of the kind. How is it that, as long as the world can remember, no monkey ever became a man, or a tree a pig? We cannot exactly agree with Darwin, therefore, when he calls the “anthropomorphous apes our nearest allies and our early progenitors” (p. 363). We are quite aware of the answer he gives to this objection in his book, onThe Origin of Species. But it may well be compared to the method of those romance writers who take good care to place the scene of the heroic exploits of their heroes infar distant lands as yet unknown and unexplored. Thus they may write volume after volume, without any danger of being convicted of telling stories and building castles in the air. So Darwin. In hisOrigin of Species, he pretends that the change from one species to another is so long and gradual that it may comprise even millions of years. As a conjecture, this may pass; but as an argument in support of a most elaborate system, we fail to see its efficacy.
We will now pass to another argument. Speaking of frowning as shading the eyes, he says: “It seems probable that this shading action would not have become habitual until man had assumed a completely upright position; for monkeys do not frown when exposed to a glaring light” (p. 363). This phrase can be made plainer when paraphrased as follows: It is a theory, established by me beyond any doubt, that man is the offspring of the monkey. Now, the monkey does not frown or shade his eyes, even when exposed to the most glaring light of the sun. Hence, it follows that frowning is an action peculiarly adapted only to an upright position. And hence, too, no wonder that the orang did not make use of it as long as he was walking on all fours and bent downwards. Hence, we must infer that frowning became a habit, then, only when the ape, thinking that he had walked long enough on all fours, and that he might, without any particular inconvenience to himself, dispense with two feet, stood upright, and became a man. This is the meaning of his words. On the same principle the following conjecture is based: “Our early progenitors, when indignant, would not hold their heads erect until they had acquired the ordinary carriage and upright attitude of man” (p. 363). Its sense is: As our first parents were brutes, and as we find that in no instance they held their heads erect when angry or indignant, it follows, of course, that this action was acquired only after they made use of their hind feet to walk, and when the fore paws became hands.
Blushing is considered by Darwin an expression that requires attention to one’s personal defects. Now, as it has not been observed in any monkey or other animal, he of course infers that it became habitual only when, having emerged from the monkey phase of existence, we became semi-human.
“But it does not seem possible”—these are his words—“that any animal, until its mental powers had been developed to an equal or nearly equal degree with those of man, would have closely considered and been sensitive about its own personal appearance” (p. 364).
Thus far we perfectly agree with him. Blushing is an act predicable only of an intelligent being. Hence, it is quite logical to say that animals could not possess it, unless almost as perfect as man. But we by no means so readily coincide with his conclusion, namely: “Therefore, we may conclude that blushing originated at a very late period in the long line of our descent” (p. 364).
If this were true, it would likewise follow that man ought to become more prone to blushing as he advances in years. This, however, it will be confessed, is not the case. Quite the reverse frequently happens. Youth and innocence blush, while age and vice grow daily more barefaced and unblushing. Now, if blushing were a mere habit acquired and developed by physical evolution, how does it come to pass that full-grown men who are givento immorality lose that blush which rose to their cheeks when young and innocent? Daily experience only too well tells the tale how the maiden blush becomes dimmer and fades entirely when the career of sin and shame has been once entered upon. Where, then, is the philosophy of Darwin’s principle?
It is quite true, he tells us, that “we cannot cause a blush by any physical means. It is the mind which must be affected” (p. 310); “that the causes of blushing are shyness, shame, and modesty; the essential element in all being self-attention” (p. 326). Again, he continues: “Many reasons can be assigned [as causes of blushing] for believing that originally self-attention directed to personal appearance in relation to the opinion of others was the exciting cause. Moral causes are only secondary; the same effect being subsequently produced through the force of association by self-attention in relation to moral conduct” (p. 326).
This shows that, with Darwin, morality is a mere matter of etiquette. “But modesty,” he continues, “frequently relates to acts of indelicacy; and indelicacy is an affair of etiquette, as we clearly see with the nations that go altogether or nearly naked. He who is modest, and blushes easily at acts of this nature, does so because they are breaches of a firmly and wisely established etiquette” (p. 335).
From this, then, it is clear that morality, chastity, and every species of virtue are nothing more than the external code of regulations which society has agreed upon in its social intercourse. In other words, all virtue and morality consist in what we call good breeding. We blush, not because we break the law of God, but because we violate the precept of man. Darwin’s ten commandments, we think, might well be summed up as follows: First commandment: Society is the Lord God of man; thou shalt adore it alone, by minutely observing all its external regulations, called etiquette. 2d. Thou shalt not take its name in vain by saying that man and society can commit any wrong, or be anything but perfect. 3d. Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath; that is, go to church on Sunday, because others do so, and etiquette demands it. 4th. Honor thy father and thy mother, because it is customary to do so. 5th. Thou shalt not be so common a criminal as to kill a man by direct physical means; but remember that thou must hold every man to be a rogue and a knave until he proves the contrary. Thou mayest even, especially when thou art a congressman, take an oath, without being particular as to the truth of thy statement. 6th and 9th. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Now, as marriage is merely an ordinary contract, that can of course be dissolved when the parties mutually agree, go to court, obtain a divorce, and thou canst marry the wife of another. As to thoughts against the sixth commandment, thou must not trouble thy head too much about them. They are nature’s legitimate ebullitions. 7th. Thou shalt not steal in open daylight, but get as much as thou canst without being detected. This would constitute the moral code of Darwin. If morality is reduced to etiquette, it is evident that its obligation is merely external.
Finally, we come to another point in the book onThe Expressions, etc. It is a curious instance of our former propensities in a primeval state. At some time or other, we are told, we were possessed of long ears, and movable at that, such as we see in the mule and dog. The elephant,also, would afford a pretty good specimen, its ears being long and quite flexible.
But let us hear him: “If our ears had remained movable, their movements would have been highly expressive, as is the case with all the animals which fight with their teeth; and we may infer that our early progenitors thus fought” (p. 365). Well, we do not by any means doubt that these movables would be highly expressive in man. Just imagine, for instance, Mr. Darwin going through the streets of New York with a pair of long ears, moving and flapping to his heart’s content! Why, the New York papers would hail it as a godsend, and the urchins on Broadway would go in ecstasies over it.
Our interesting author winds up his somewhat lengthy dissertations with the inference that his reasonings on the “expression of emotions” afford another confirmatory proof of his theory that man is the offspring of the monkey. His two volumes on theDescent of Manwere intended as the corner-stone of his building. This later work was to finish it. The great pity is that he is building a castle in the air. He gives no proof. Similarities in man and animals may afford ground for suppositions, but can never cause conviction.
“We have seen,” he says, “that the study of the theory of ‘expression’ confirms, to a certain limited extent, the conclusion that man is derived from some lower animal form, and supports the belief of the specific or sub-specific unity of the several races” (p. 367).
We are now done with Darwin. In perusing the volume, we confess it was not without a feeling of deep sadness at so much blindness combined with no ordinary degree of learning and research. Darwin is a student of no mean class. His research shows that no pains were spared. His numerous examples demonstrate that he is perfectly at home in natural sciences. Mixed up with error, there is in his book a great deal both interesting and highly instructive. His conclusions might perhaps be correct if there existed no God, no revelation, and no eternity. He is a striking example of men who set aside the revealed Word of God, and take reason as their sole guide and standard in the search after wisdom.
It may not be amiss to subjoin a few general principles that will refute even more fully the sophisms of the author.
We lay it down as a certain proposition that sensation is essentially distinct from intelligence. Sensation is defined: “A certain impression present to the mind, caused by an external agent on an animated body.”[176]
This external impression is received by five sensible organs, viz.: touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight. These are evidently material organs, having size, weight, figure, extension, distance, number, motion, and rest. The same is the case with the object causing the impressions.
Now, is there any specific difference between sensation and intelligence? Is the understanding of man entirely different from the sensation of the brute? Or is it merely a development of the latter? If we believe Darwin, there is no real difference, except that the one is more perfect than the other. In the monkey, there exists the same faculty of intelligence as in man. In the former, however, it is in its incipient stage; in the latter, it is matured and developed. Can such a theory be reconciled with philosophy? We believe not. Infact, the difference between sensation and intelligence can be given as follows: 1. Sensations are external impressions which are not produced by the mind, but merely received; hence they are passive; whilst the understanding of man is essentially the actor, and not merely the recipient. 2. Again, “Sensations are particular facts which never leave their own sphere.”[177]Intelligence forms ideas that are universal and absolute, being applicable to all individuals.
Moreover, sensation does not distinguish one object from the other, neither does it compare them. The illustrious Spaniard whom we have already quoted illustrates this by saying: “The sensation of the pink is only that of the pink, and that of the rose only that of the rose. The instant you attempt to compare them you suppose in the mind an act by which it perceives the difference; and, if you attribute to it anything more than pure sensation, you add a faculty distinct from sensation, namely, that of comparing sensations, and appreciating their similarities and differences.”[178]
This, indeed, is evident. Sensation is simply the external impression received. As such, it is an isolated act. It does not compare or judge.
The idea, for instance, of the triangle is one, and is common to all triangles of every size and kind; the representation or sensation is multiple, and varies in size and kind.
Again, the idea or thought of the mind is fixed and necessary; the representation changeable.
The idea,e.g., of the triangle is “the same to the man born blind, and to him who has sight; and the proof of this is that both, in their arguments and geometrical uses, develop it in the same manner.”[179]
From what has been thus far said, it is evident that there exists a dividing line between the intellect and sensation; that the one is in no sense contained in the other, and cannot by any process be derived from it. Darwin is a mere sensist. He understands little of the nature and faculties of the human soul. He ignores any essential distinction between the intellect and sensation.
There is, indeed, it may be observed, a close connection between the two. Sensation is the condition of the exercise of the intellect while we are in this life. It supplies food for the intelligence. It always precedes and accompanies the intellectual act. Thus, when we think of God’s mercy, we easily imagine God as a kind father, etc.
But such is the case only in human intelligence. We have a spirit in a material and sensible body. Our intellect, by its substantial union with the body, is bound to adapt its exercises to the conditions imposed by this union. But unless we deny all revelation, we must admit the existence of celestial spirits who are not possessed of and encumbered by any body. These, then, need no visible organs, no external sensation, no sensible representation, to arouse and excite their intellect to action. Hence, it follows that the connection existing between sensation and intelligence is not essential.
We shall now examine some other acts of the intellect, to confirm what we have said. Judgment is one of the principal acts of the mind. It is defined: “The perception and affirmation of the identity or diversity of two ideas or propositions obtained by comparing them.”[180]Thus, in the proposition, “Man is mortal,” the mind compares the ideas manand “mortal,” and affirms their identity. The sensation, however, is an isolated impression on the mind, a single fact. Another feature of human actions is the purpose or end for which a thing is done. The dog may do things that have great similarity to human actions; but close observation will easily convince one that the brute does so in a uniform manner, and consequently is impelled by natural instinct. Man, however, sits down and deliberates. He proposes some object to be accomplished, and carefully selects the means best calculated to attain that end. He changes his means at will, according to the circumstances of the case. Does any animal, even be it Darwin’s darling monkey, do anything of the kind? Moreover, the end or purpose may be inherent in the act itself; thus, the sun gives heat and light. An end, however, may not arise essentially out of the nature of things, but may be freely intended; thus, man chooses different objects, while animals necessarily perform them. Again, man observes order in his actions. Order is defined: “A proper disposition of things, giving to each its place”;[181]or, “A composition, and arranging things according to their proper place.”[182]This arrangement may be made either in relation to the matter, or time, or the object. Now, do we ever behold animals displaying order in their actions? Has even Darwin ever seen a monkey arranging books in a library in such a manner as to place alongside each other those relating to one subject? We doubt it. We conclude this review by summing up, in Darwin’s words, the principles by which he contends that all our ideas are acquired. The first is the principle of serviceable associated habits. According to it, we gradually acquire all those habits, ideas, and expressions that conduce to our interest or gratification. The second is that of antithesis—that is, when something offered to our interest occurs, we adopt contrary actions and ideas. The third is styled by Darwin the principle of actions due to the constitution of the nervous system, independently, from the first, of the will, and independently, to a certain extent, of habit. This last principle is simply what is commonly called instinct. No one denies that it causes many actions pertaining to our welfare; but no man of sound mind will derive from it intelligence. The first and second principles can be reduced to that of utilitarianism. In plain language, it amounts to this: if all the actions, thoughts, and desires of man are regulated merely in accordance with each one’s private gratification, there would be no such thing as being concerned about the welfare of others. We finish by recalling the fundamental idea underlying this work. There are, Darwin tells us, striking similarities between the external expressions exhibited by man and the animal. These cannot be explained except on the supposition that the former descends by a long and slow process of generation from the latter. This is styled natural evolution.
There is, we admit, a germ of truth in the theory of evolution. The mistake is in applying it without limit. The Catholic Church teaches, 1. that the soul of man is immediately created by God. 2. That the human body also was created in like manner. This latter, however, is not so explicitly defined as the former. 3. It is a commonly received opinion of theologians that all the principal species of the animal were created directly by God. 4. That,however, imperfect species, such as hybrids and those generated by corruption, perspiration—e.g., fleas—were created only in germ, orpotentiali modo.
From this, it is not difficult to see how far a Catholic may accept the theory of evolution. Scientists should not forget that reason is the handmaid of revelation.