WE HAVE seen in the last two
chapters that man bears in his
bodily structure clear traces
of his descent from some lower
form; but it may be urged that,
as man differs so greatly in
his mental power from all other
animals, there must be some error
in this conclusion. No doubt
the difference in this respect
is enormous, even if we compare
the mind of one of the lowest
savages, who has no words to
express any number higher than
four, and who uses hardly any
abstract terms for common objects
or for the affections,* with
that of the most highly organised
ape. The difference would, no
doubt, still remain immense,
even if one of the higher apes
had been improved or civilised
as much as a dog has been in
comparison with its parent-form,
the wolf or jackal. The Fuegians
rank amongst the lowest barbarians;
but I was continually struck
with surprise how closely the
three natives on board H. M.
S. Beagle, who had lived some
years in England, and could talk
a little English, resembled us
in disposition and in most of
our mental faculties. If no organic
being excepting man had possessed
any mental power, or if his powers
had been of a wholly different
nature from those of the lower
animals, then we should never
have been able to convince ourselves
that our high faculties had been
gradually developed. But it can
be shewn that there is no fundamental
difference of this kind. We must
also admit that there is a much
wider interval in mental power
between one of the lowest fishes,
as a lamprey or lancelet, and
one of the higher apes, than
between an ape and man; yet this
interval is filled up by numberless
gradations.
* See the evidence
on those points, as given by
Lubbock,
Prehistoric Times, p. 354, &c.
Nor is the difference slight
in moral disposition between
a barbarian, such as the man
described by the old navigator
Byron, who dashed his child on
the rocks for dropping a basket
of sea-urchins, and a Howard
or Clarkson; and in intellect,
between a savage who uses hardly
any abstract terms, and a Newton
or Shakespeare. Differences of
this kind between the highest
men of the highest races and
the lowest savages, are connected
by the finest gradations. Therefore
it is possible that they might
pass and be developed into each
other.
My object in this chapter is
to shew that there is no fundamental
difference between man and the
higher mammals in their mental
faculties. Each division of the
subject might have been extended
into a separate essay, but must
here be treated briefly. As no
classification of the mental
powers has been universally accepted,
I shall arrange my remarks in
the order most convenient for
my purpose; and will select those
facts which have struck me most,
with the hope that they may produce
some effect on the reader.
With respect to animals very
low in the scale, I shall give
some additional facts under Sexual
Selection, shewing that their
mental powers are much higher
than might have been expected.
The variability of the faculties
in the individuals of the same
species is an important point
for us, and some few illustrations
will here be given. But it would
be superfluous to enter into
many details on this head, for
I have found on frequent enquiry,
that it is the unanimous opinion
of all those who have long attended
to animals of many kinds, including
birds, that the individuals differ
greatly in every mental characteristic.
In what manner the mental powers
were first developed in the lowest
organisms, is as hopeless an
enquiry as how life itself first
originated. These are problems
for the distant future, if they
are ever to be solved by man.
As man possesses the same senses
as the lower animals, his fundamental
intuitions must be the same.
Man has also some few instincts
in common, as that of self-preservation,
sexual love, the love of the
mother for her new-born offspring,
the desire possessed by the latter
to suck, and so forth. But man,
perhaps, has somewhat fewer instincts
than those possessed by the animals
which come next to him in the
series. The orang in the Eastern
islands, and the chimpanzee in
Africa, build platforms on which
they sleep; and, as both species
follow the same habit, it might
be argued that this was due to
instinct, but we cannot feel
sure that it is not the result
of both animals having similar
wants, and possessing similar
powers of reasoning. These apes,
as we may assume, avoid the many
poisonous fruits of the tropics,
and man has no such knowledge:
but as our domestic animals,
when taken to foreign lands,
and when first turned out in
the spring, often eat poisonous
herbs, which they afterwards
avoid, we cannot feel sure that
the apes do not learn from their
own experience or from that of
their parents what fruits to
select. It is, however, certain,
as we shall presently see, that
apes have an instinctive dread
of serpents, and probably of
other dangerous animals.
The fewness and the comparative
simplicity of the instincts in
the higher animals are remarkable
in contrast with those of the
lower animals. Cuvier maintained
that instinct and intelligence
stand in an inverse ratio to
each other; and some have thought
that the intellectual faculties
of the higher animals have been
gradually developed from their
instincts. But Pouchet, in an
interesting essay,* has shewn
that no such inverse ratio really
exists. Those insects which possess
the most wonderful instincts
are certainly the most intelligent.
In the vertebrate series, the
least intelligent members, namely
fishes and amphibians, do not
possess complex instincts; and
amongst mammals the animal most
remarkable for its instincts,
namely the beaver, is highly
intelligent, as will be admitted
by every one who has read Mr.
Morgan's excellent work.*(2)
* "L'Instinct chez les insectes," Revue
des Deux Mondes, Feb., 1870,
p. 690.
*(2) The American Beaver and
His Works, 1868.
Although the first dawnings
of intelligence, according to
Mr. Herbert Spencer,* have been
developed through the multiplication
and coordination of reflex actions,
and although many of the simpler
instincts graduate into reflex
actions, and can hardly be distinguished
from them, as in the case of
young animals sucking, yet the
more complex instincts seem to
have originated independently
of intelligence. I am, however,
very far from wishing to deny
that instinctive actions may
lose their fixed and untaught
character, and be replaced by
others performed by the aid of
the free will. On the other hand,
some intelligent actions, after
being performed during several
generations, become converted
into instincts and are inherited,
as when birds on oceanic islands
learn to avoid man. These actions
may then be said to be degraded
in character, for they are no
longer performed through reason
or from experience. But the greater
number of the more complex instincts
appear to have been gained in
a wholly different manner, through
the natural selection of variations
of simpler instinctive actions.
Such variations appear to arise
from the same unknown causes
acting on the cerebral organisation,
which induce slight variations
or individual differences in
other parts of the body; and
these variations, owing to our
ignorance, are often said to
arise spontaneously. We can,
I think, come to no other conclusion
with respect to the origin of
the more complex instincts, when
we reflect on the marvellous
instincts of sterile worker-ants
and bees, which leave no offspring
to inherit the effects of experience
and of modified habits.
* The Principles of Psychology,
2nd ed., 1870, pp. 418-443.
Although, as we learn from the
above-mentioned insects and the
beaver, a high degree of intelligence
is certainly compatible with
complex instincts, and although
actions, at first learnt voluntarily
can soon through habit be performed
with the quickness and certainty
of a reflex action, yet it is
not improbable that there is
a certain amount of interference
between the development of free
intelligence and of instinct,-
which latter implies some inherited
modification of the brain. Little
is known about the functions
of the brain, but we can perceive
that as the intellectual powers
become highly developed, the
various parts of the brain must
be connected by very intricate
channels of the freest intercommunication;
and as a consequence each separate
part would perhaps tend to be
less well fitted to answer to
particular sensations or associations
in a definite and inherited-
that is instinctive- manner.
There seems even to exist some
relation between a low degree
of intelligence and a strong
tendency to the formation of
fixed, though not inherited habits;
for as a sagacious physician
remarked to me, persons who are
slightly imbecile tend to act
in everything by routine or habit;
and they are rendered much happier
if this is encouraged.
I have thought this digression
worth giving, because we may
easily underrate the mental powers
of the higher animals, and especially
of man, when we compare their
actions founded on the memory
of past events, on foresight,
reason, and imagination, with
exactly similar actions instinctively
performed by the lower animals;
in this latter case the capacity
of performing such actions has
been gained, step by step, through
the variability of the mental
organs and natural selection,
without any conscious intelligence
on the part of the animal during
each successive generation. No
doubt, as Mr. Wallace has argued,*
much of the intelligent work
done by man is due to imitation
and not to reason; but there
is this great difference between
his actions and many of those
performed by the lower animals,
namely, that man cannot, on his
first trial, make, for instance,
a stone hatchet or a canoe, through
his power of imitation. He has
to learn his work by practice;
a beaver, on the other hand,
can make its dam or canal, and
a bird its nest, as well, or
nearly as well, and a spider
its wonderful web, quite as well,*(2)
the first time it tries as when
old and experienced.
* Contributions to the Theory
of Natural Selection, 1870, p.
212.
*(2) For the evidence on this
head, see Mr. J. Traherne Moggridge's
most interesting work, Harvesting
Ants and Trap-Door Spiders, 1873,
pp. 126, 128.
To return to
our immediate subject: the
lower animals, like man,
manifestly feel pleasure and
pain, happiness and misery. Happiness
is never better exhibited than
by young animals, such as puppies,
kittens, lambs, &c., when playing
together, like our own children.
Even insects play together, as
has been described by that excellent
observer, P. Huber,* who saw
ants chasing and pretending to
bite each other, like so many
puppies.
* Recherches sur les Moeurs
des Fourmis, 1810, p. 173.
The fact that the lower animals
are excited by the same emotions
as ourselves is so well established,
that it will not be necessary
to weary the reader by many details.
Terror acts in the same manner
on them as on us, causing the
muscles to tremble, the heart
to palpitate, the sphincters
to be relaxed, and the hair to
stand on end. Suspicion, the
offspring of fear, is eminently
characteristic of most wild animals.
It is, I think, impossible to
read the account given by Sir
E. Tennent, of the behaviour
of the female elephants, used
as decoys, without admitting
that they intentionally practise
deceit, and well know what they
are about. Courage and timidity
are extremely variable qualities
in the individuals of the same
species, as is plainly seen in
our dogs. Some dogs and horses
are ill-tempered, and easily
turn sulky; others are good-tempered;
and these qualities are certainly
inherited. Every one knows how
liable animals are to furious
rage, and how plainly they shew
it. Many, and probably true,
anecdotes have been published
on the long-delayed and artful
revenge of various animals. The
accurate Rengger, and Brehm*
state that the American and African
monkeys which they kept tame,
certainly revenged themselves.
Sir Andrew Smith, a zoologist
whose scrupulous accuracy was
known to many persons, told me
the following story of which
he was himself an eye-witness;
at the Cape of Good Hope an officer
had often plagued a certain baboon,
and the animal, seeing him approaching
one Sunday for parade, poured
water into a hole and hastily
made some thick mud, which he
skilfully dashed over the officer
as he passed by, to the amusement
of many bystanders. For long
afterwards the baboon rejoiced
and triumphed whenever he saw
his victim.
* All the following statements,
given on the authority of these
two naturalists, are taken from
Rengger's Naturgesch. der Saugethiere
von Paraguay, 1830, ss. 41-57,
and from Brehm's Thierleben,
B. i., ss. 10-87.
The love of
a dog for his master is notorious;
as an old writer
quaintly says,* "A dog is the
only thing on this earth that
luvs you more than he luvs himself."
* Quoted by
Dr. Lauder Lindsay, in his "Physiology of Mind in
the Lower Animals," Journal of
Mental Science, April, 1871,
p. 38.
In the agony of death a dog
has been known to caress his
master, and every one has heard
of the dog suffering under vivisection,
who licked the hand of the operator;
this man, unless the operation
was fully justified by an increase
of our knowledge, or unless he
had a heart of stone, must have
felt remorse to the last hour
of his life.
As Whewell*
has well asked, "Who
that reads the touching instances
of maternal affection, related
so often of the women of all
nations, and of the females of
all animals, can doubt that the
principle of action is the same
in the two cases?" We see maternal
affection exhibited in the most
trifling details; thus Rengger
observed an American monkey (a
Cebus) carefully driving away
the flies which plagued her infant;
and Duvaucel saw a Hylobates
washing the faces of her young
ones in a stream. So intense
is the grief of female monkeys
for the loss of their young,
that it invariably caused the
death of certain kinds kept under
confinement by Brehm in N. Africa.
Orphan monkeys were always adopted
and carefully guarded by the
other monkeys, both males and
females. One female baboon had
so capacious a heart that she
not only adopted young monkeys
of other species, but stole young
dogs and cats, which she continually
carried about. Her kindness,
however, did not go so far as
to share her food with her adopted
offspring, at which Brehm was
surprised, as his monkeys always
divided everything quite fairly
with their own young ones. An
adopted kitten scratched this
affectionate baboon, who certainly
had a fine intellect, for she
was much astonished at being
scratched, and immediately examined
the kitten's feet, and without
more ado bit off the claws.*(2)
In the Zoological Gardens, I
heard from the keeper that an
old baboon (C. chacma) had adopted
a Rhesus monkey; but when a young
drill and mandrill were placed
in the cage, she seemed to perceive
that these monkeys, though distinct
species, were her nearer relatives,
for she at once rejected the
Rhesus and adopted both of them.
The young Rhesus, as I saw, was
greatly discontented at being
thus rejected, and it would,
like a naughty child, annoy and
attack the young drill and mandrill
whenever it could do so with
safety; this conduct exciting
great indignation in the old
baboon. Monkeys will also, according
to Brehm, defend their master
when attacked by any one, as
well as dogs to whom they are
attached, from the attacks of
other dogs. But we here trench
on the subjects of sympathy and
fidelity, to which I shall recur.
Some of Brehm's monkeys took
much delight in teasing a certain
old dog whom they disliked, as
well as other animals, in various
ingenious ways.
* Bridgewater Treatise, p. 263.
*(2) A critic, without any grounds
(Quarterly Review, July, 1871,
p. 72), disputes the possibility
of this act as described by Brehm,
for the sake of discrediting
my work. Therefore I tried, and
found that I could readily seize
with my own teeth the sharp little
claws of a kitten nearly five
weeks old.
Most of the more complex emotions
are common to the higher animals
and ourselves. Every one has
seen how jealous a dog is of
his master's affection, if lavished
on any other creature; and I
have observed the same fact with
monkeys. This shews that animals
not only love, but have desire
to be loved. Animals manifestly
feel emulation. They love approbation
or praise; and a dog carrying
a basket for his master exhibits
in a high degree self-complacency
or pride. There can, I think,
be no doubt that a dog feels
shame, as distinct from fear,
and something very like modesty
when begging too often for food.
A great dog scorns the snarling
of a little dog, and this may
be called magnanimity. Several
observers have stated that monkeys
certainly dislike being laughed
at; and they sometimes invent
imaginary offences. In the Zoological
Gardens I saw a baboon who always
got into a furious rage when
his keeper took out a letter
or book and read it aloud to
him; and his rage was so violent
that, as I witnessed on one occasion,
he bit his own leg till the blood
flowed. Dogs shew what may be
fairly called a sense of humour,
as distinct from mere play; if
a bit of stick or other such
object be thrown to one, he will
often carry it away for a short
distance; and then squatting
down with it on the ground close
before him, will wait until his
master comes quite close to take
it away. The dog will then seize
it and rush away in triumph,
repeating the same manoeuvre,
and evidently enjoying the practical
joke.
We will now turn to the more
intellectual emotions and faculties,
which are very important, as
forming the basis for the development
of the higher mental powers.
Animals manifestly enjoy excitement,
and suffer from ennui, as may
be seen with dogs, and, according
to Rengger, with monkeys. All
animals feel Wonder, and many
exhibit Curiosity. They sometimes
suffer from this latter quality,
as when the hunter plays antics
and thus attracts them; I have
witnessed this with deer, and
so it is with the wary chamois,
and with some kinds of wild-ducks.
Brehm gives a curious account
of the instinctive dread, which
his monkeys exhibited, for snakes;
but their curiosity was so great
that they could not desist from
occasionally satiating their
horror in a most human fashion,
by lifting up the lid of the
box in which the snakes were
kept. I was so much surprised
at this account, that I took
a stuffed and coiled-up snake
into the monkey-house at the
Zoological Gardens, and the excitement
thus caused was one of the most
curious spectacles which I ever
beheld. Three species of Cercopithecus
were the most alarmed; they dashed
about their cages, and uttered
sharp signal cries of danger,
which were understood by the
other monkeys. A few young monkeys
and one old Anubis baboon alone
took no notice of the snake.
I then placed the stuffed specimen
on the ground in one of the larger
compartments. After a time all
the monkeys collected round it
in a large circle, and staring
intently, presented a most ludicrous
appearance. They became extremely
nervous; so that when a wooden
ball, with which they were familiar
as a plaything, was accidentally
moved in the straw, under which
it was partly hidden, they all
instantly started away. These
monkeys behaved very differently
when a dead fish, a mouse,* a
living turtle, and other new
objects were placed in their
cages; for though at first frightened,
they soon approached, handled
and examined them. I then placed
a live snake in a paper bag,
with the mouth loosely closed,
in one of the larger compartments.
One of the monkeys immediately
approached, cautiously opened
the bag a little, peeped in,
and instantly dashed away. Then
I witnessed what Brehm has described,
for monkey after monkey, with
head raised high and turned on
one side, could not resist taking
a momentary peep into the upright
bag, at the dreadful object lying
quietly at the bottom. It would
almost appear as if monkeys had
some notion of zoological affinities,
for those kept by Brehm exhibited
a strange, though mistaken, instinctive
dread of innocent lizards and
frogs. An orang, also, has been
known to be much alarmed at the
first sight of a turtle.*(2)
* I have given a short account
of their behaviour on this occasion
in my Expression of the Emotions
in Man and Animals, p. 43.
*(2) W. C. L. Martin, Natural
History of Mammalia, 1841, p.
405.
The principle of Imitation is
strong in man, and especially,
as I have myself observed, with
savages. In certain morbid states
of the brain this tendency is
exaggerated to an extraordinary
degree: some hemiplegic patients
and others, at the commencement
of inflammatory softening of
the brain, unconsciously imitate
every word which is uttered,
whether in their own or in a
foreign language, and every gesture
or action which is performed
near them.* Desor*(2) has remarked
that no animal voluntarily imitates
an action performed by man, until
in the ascending scale we come
to monkeys, which are well known
to be ridiculous mockers. Animals,
however, sometimes imitate each
other's actions: thus two species
of wolves, which had been reared
by dogs, learned to bark, as
does sometimes the jackal,*(3)
but whether this can be called
voluntary imitation is another
question. Birds imitate the songs
of their parents, and sometimes
of other birds; and parrots are
notorious imitators of any sound
which they often hear. Dureau
de la Malle gives an account*(4)
of a dog reared by a cat, who
learnt to imitate the well-known
action of a cat licking her paws,
and thus washing her ears and
face; this was also witnessed
by the celebrated naturalist
Audouin. I have received several
confirmatory accounts; in one
of these, a dog had not been
suckled by a cat, but had been
brought up with one, together
with kittens, and had thus acquired
the above habit, which he ever
afterwards practised during his
life of thirteen years. Dureau
de la Malle's dog likewise learnt
from the kittens to play with
a ball by rolling it about with
his fore paws, and springing
on it. A correspondent assures
me that a cat in his house used
to put her paws into jugs of
milk having too narrow a mouth
for her head. A kitten of this
cat soon learned the same trick,
and practised it ever afterwards,
whenever there was an opportunity.
* Dr. Bateman, On Aphasia, 1870,
p. 110.
*(2) Quoted by Vogt, Memoire
sur les Microcephales, 1867,
p. 168.
*(3) The Variation of Animals
and Plants under Domestication,
vol. i., p. 27.
*(4) Annales des Sciences Nat.,
(1st series), tom, xxii., p.
397.
The parents of many animals,
trusting to the principle of
imitation in their young, and
more especially to their instinctive
or inherited tendencies, may
be said to educate them. We see
this when a cat brings a live
mouse to her kittens; and Dureau
de la Malle has given a curious
account (in the paper above quoted)
of his observations on hawks
which taught their young dexterity,
as well as judgment of distances,
by first dropping through the
air dead mice and sparrows, which
the young generally failed to
catch, and then bringing them
live birds and letting them loose.
Hardly any faculty is more important
for the intellectual progress
of man than Attention. Animals
clearly manifest this power,
as when a cat watches by a hole
and prepares to spring on its
prey. Wild animals sometimes
become so absorbed when thus
engaged, that they may be easily
approached. Mr. Bartlett has
given me a curious proof how
variable this faculty is in monkeys.
A man who trains monkeys to act
in plays, used to purchase common
kinds from the Zoological Society
at the price of five pounds for
each; but he offered to give
double the price, if he might
keep three or four of them for
a few days, in order to select
one. When asked how he could
possibly learn so soon, whether
a particular monkey would turn
out a good actor, he answered
that it all depended on their
power of attention. If when he
was talking and explaining anything
to a monkey, its attention was
easily distracted, as by a fly
on the wall or other trifling
object, the case was hopeless.
If he tried by punishment to
make an inattentive monkey act,
it turned sulky. On the other
hand, a monkey which carefully
attended to him could always
be trained.
It is almost superfluous to
state that animals have excellent
Memories for persons and places.
A baboon at the Cape of Good
Hope, as I have been informed
by Sir Andrew Smith, recognised
him with joy after an absence
of nine months. I had a dog who
was savage and averse to all
strangers, and I purposely tried
his memory after an absence of
five years and two days. I went
near the stable where he lived,
and shouted to him in my old
manner; he shewed no joy, but
instantly followed me out walking,
and obeyed me, exactly as if
I had parted with him only half
an hour before. A train of old
associations, dormant during
five years, had thus been instantaneously
awakened in his mind. Even ants,
as P. Huber* has clearly shewn,
recognised their fellow-ants
belonging to the same community
after a separation of four months.
Animals can certainly by some
means judge of the intervals
of time between recurrent events.
* Les Moeurs des Fourmis, 1810,
p. 150.
The Imagination
is one of the highest prerogatives
of man.
By this faculty he unites former
images and ideas, independently
of the will, and thus creates
brilliant and novel results.
A poet, as Jean Paul Richter
remarks,* "who must reflect whether
he shall make a character say
yes or no- to the devil with
him; he is only a stupid corpse." Dreaming
gives us the best notion of this
power; as Jean Paul again says, "The
dream is an involuntary art of
poetry." The value of the products
of our imagination depends of
course on the number, accuracy,
and clearness of our impressions,
on our judgment and taste in
selecting or rejecting the involuntary
combinations, and to a certain
extent on our power of voluntarily
combining them. As dogs, cats,
horses, and probably all the
higher animals, even birds*(2)
have vivid dreams, and this is
shewn by their movements and
the sounds uttered, we must admit
that they possess some power
of imagination. There must be
something special, which causes
dogs to howl in the night, and
especially during moonlight,
in that remarkable and melancholy
manner called baying. All dogs
do not do so; and, according
to Houzeau,*(3) they do not then
look at the moon, but at some
fixed point near the horizon.
Houzeau thinks that their imaginations
are disturbed by the vague outlines
of the surrounding objects, and
conjure up before them fantastic
images: if this be so, their
feelings may almost be called
superstitious.
* Quoted in Dr. Maudsley's Physiology
and Pathology of Mind, 1868,
pp. 19, 220.
*(2) Dr. Jerdon, Birds of India,
vol. i., 1862, p. xxi. Houzeau
says that his parakeets and canary-birds
dreamt: Etudes sur les Facultes
Mentales des Animaux, tom. ii.,
p. 136.
*(3) ibid., 1872, tom. ii.,
p. 181.
Of all the faculties of the
human mind, it will, I presume,
be admitted that Reason stands
at the summit. Only a few persons
now dispute that animals possess
some power of reasoning. Animals
may constantly be seen to pause,
deliberate, and resolve. It is
a significant fact, that the
more the habits of any particular
animal are studied by a naturalist,
the more he attributes to reason
and the less to unlearnt instincts.*
In future chapters we shall see
that some animals extremely low
in the scale apparently display
a certain amount of reason. No
doubt it is often difficult to
distinguish between the power
of reason and that of instinct.
For instance. Dr. Hayes, in his
work on The Open Polar Sea, repeatedly
remarks that his dogs, instead
of continuing to draw the sledges
in a compact body, diverged and
separated when they came to thin
ice, so that their weight might
be more evenly distributed. This
was often the first warning which
the travellers received that
the ice was becoming thin and
dangerous. Now, did the dogs
act thus from the experience
of each individual, or from the
example of the older and wiser
dogs, or from an inherited habit,
that is from instinct? This instinct,
may possibly have arisen since
the time, long ago, when dogs
were first employed by the natives
in drawing their sledges; or
the arctic wolves, the parent-stock
of the Esquimaux dog, may have
acquired an instinct impelling
them not to attack their prey
in a close pack, when on thin
ice.
* Mr. L. H. Morgan's work on
The American Beaver, 1868, offers
a good illustration of this remark.
I cannot help thinking, however,
that he goes too far in undertaking
the power of instinct.
We can only judge by the circumstances
under which actions are performed,
whether they are due to instinct,
or to reason, or to the mere
association of ideas: this latter
principle, however, is intimately
connected with reason. A curious
case has been given by Prof.
Mobius,* of a pike, separated
by a plate of glass from an adjoining
aquarium stocked with fish, and
who often dashed himself with
such violence against the glass
in trying to catch the other
fishes, that he was sometimes
completely stunned. The pike
went on thus for three months,
but at last learnt caution, and
ceased to do so. The plate of
glass was then removed, but the
pike would not attack these particular
fishes, though he would devour
others which were afterwards
introduced; so strongly was the
idea of a violent shock associated
in his feeble mind with the attempt
on his former neighbours. If
a savage, who had never seen
a large plate-glass window, were
to dash himself even once against
it, he would for a long time
afterwards associate a shock
with a window-frame; but very
differently from the pike, he
would probably reflect on the
nature of the impediment, and
be cautious under analogous circumstances.
Now with monkeys, as we shall
presently see, a painful or merely
a disagreeable impression, from
an action once performed, is
sometimes sufficient to prevent
the animal from repeating it.
If we attribute this difference
between the monkey and the pike
solely to the association of
ideas being so much stronger
and more persistent in the one
than the other, though the pike
often received much the more
severe injury, can we maintain
in the case of man that a similar
difference implies the possession
of a fundamentally different
mind?
* Die Bewegungen
der Thiere, &c.,
1873, p. 11.
Houzeau relates* that, whilst
crossing a wide and arid plain
in Texas, his two dogs suffered
greatly from thirst, and that
between thirty and forty times
they rushed down the hollows
to search for water. These hollows
were not valleys, and there were
no trees in them, or any other
difference in the vegetation,
and as they were absolutely dry
there could have been no smell
of damp earth. The dogs behaved
as if they knew that a dip in
the ground offered them the best
chance of finding water, and
Houzeau has often witnessed the
same behaviour in other animals.
* Etudes sur les Facultes Mentales
des Animaux, 1872, tom. ii.,
p. 265.
I have seen, as I daresay have
others, that when a small object
is thrown on the ground beyond
the reach of one of the elephants
in the Zoological Gardens, he
blows through his trunk on the
ground beyond the object, so
that the current reflected on
all sides may drive the object
within his reach. Again a well-known
ethnologist, Mr. Westropp, informs
me that he observed in Vienna
a bear deliberately making with
his paw a current in some water,
which was close to the bars of
his cage, so as to draw a piece
of floating bread within his
reach. These actions of the elephant
and bear can hardly be attributed
to ins7tinct or inherited habit,
as they would be of little use
to an animal in a state of nature.
Now, what is the difference between
such actions, when performed
by an uncultivated man, and by
one of the higher animals?
The savage and the dog have
often found water at a low level,
and the coincidence under such
circumstances has become associated
in their minds. A cultivated
man would perhaps make some general
proposition on the subject; but
from all that we know of savages
it is extremely doubtful whether
they would do so, and a dog certainly
would not. But a savage, as well
as a dog, would search in the
same way, though frequently disappointed;
and in both it seems to be equally
an act of reason, whether or
not any general proposition on
the subject is consciously placed
before the mind.* The same would
apply to the elephant and the
bear making currents in the air
or water. The savage would certainly
neither know nor care by what
law the desired movements were
effected; yet his act would be
guided by a rude process of reasoning,
as surely as would a philosopher
in his longest chain of deductions.
There would no doubt be this
difference between him and one
of the higher animals, that he
would take notice of much slighter
circumstances and conditions,
and would observe any connection
between them after much less
experience, and this would be
of paramount importance. I kept
a daily record of the actions
of one of my infants, and when
he was about eleven months old,
and before he could speak a single
word, I was continually struck
with the greater quickness, with
which all sorts of objects and
sounds were associated together
in his mind, compared with that
of the most intelligent dogs
I ever knew. But the higher animals
differ in exactly the same way
in this power of association
from those low in the scale,
such as the pike, as well as
in that of drawing inferences
and of observation.
* Prof. Huxley
has analysed with admirable
clearness the
mental steps by which a man,
as well as a dog, arrives at
a conclusion in a case analogous
to that given in my text. See
his article, "Mr. Darwin's Critics," in
the Contemporary Review, Nov.,
1871, p. 462, and in his Critiques
and Essays, 1873, p. 279.
The promptings of reason, after
very short experience, are well
shewn by the following actions
of American monkeys, which stand
low in their order. Rengger,
a most careful observer, states
that when he first gave eggs
to his monkeys in Paraguay, they
smashed them, and thus lost much
of their contents; afterwards
they gently hit one end against
some hard body, and picked off
the bits of shell with their
fingers. After cutting themselves
only once with any sharp tool,
they would not touch it again,
or would handle it with the greatest
caution. Lumps of sugar were
often given them wrapped up in
paper; and Rengger sometimes
put a live wasp in the paper,
so that in hastily unfolding
it they got stung; after this
had once happened, they always
first held the packet to their
ears to detect any movement within.*
* Mr. Belt, in his most interesting
work, The Naturalist in Nicaragua,
1874, p. 119, likewise describes
various actions of a tamed Cebus,
which, I think, clearly shew
that this animal possessed some
reasoning power.
The following
cases relate to dogs. Mr. Colquhoun*
winged two
wild-ducks, which fell on the
further side of a stream; his
retriever tried to bring over
both at once, but could not succeed;
she then, though never before
known to ruffle a feather, deliberately
killed one, brought over the
other, and returned for the dead
bird. Col. Hutchinson relates
that two partridges were shot
at once, one being killed, the
other wounded; the latter ran
away, and was caught by the retriever,
who on her return came across
the dead bird; "she stopped,
evidently greatly puzzled, and
after one or two trials, finding
she could not take it up without
permitting the escape of the
winged bird, she considered a
moment, then deliberately murdered
it by giving it a severe crunch,
and afterwards brought away both
together. This was the only known
instance of her ever having wilfully
injured any game." Here we have
reason though not quite perfect,
for the retriever might have
brought the wounded bird first
and then returned for the dead
one, as in the case of the two
wild-ducks. I give the above
cases, as resting on the evidence
of two independent witnesses,
and because in both instances
the retrievers, after deliberation,
broke through a habit which is
inherited by them (that of not
killing the game retrieved),
and because they shew how strong
their reasoning faculty must
have been to overcome a fixed
habit.
* The Moor and the Loch, p.
45. Col. Hutchinson on Dog Breaking,
1850, p. 46.
I will conclude
by quoting a remark by the
illustrious Humboldt.* "The
muleteers in S. America say,
'I will not give you the mule
whose step is easiest, but la
mas racional,- the one that reasons
best'"; and; as, he adds, "this
popular expression, dictated
by long experience, combats the
system of animated machines,
better perhaps than all the arguments
of speculative philosophy." Nevertheless
some writers even yet deny that
the higher animals possess a
trace of reason; and they endeavor
to explain away, by what appears
to be mere verbiage,*(2) all
such facts as those above given.
* Personal Narrative, Eng. translat.,
vol. iii., p. 106.
*(2) I am glad
to find that so acute a reasoner
as Mr. Leslie
Stephen ("Darwinism and Divinity," Essays
on Free Thinking, 1873, p. 80),
in speaking of the supposed impassable
barrier between the minds of
man and the lower animals, says, "The
distinctions, indeed, which have
been drawn, seem to us to rest
upon no better foundation than
a great many other metaphysical
distinctions; that is, the assumption
that because you can give two
things different names, they
must therefore have different
natures. It is difficult to understand
how anybody who has ever kept
a dog, or seen an elephant, can
have any doubt as to an animal's
power of performing the essential
processes of reasoning."
It has, I think,
now been shewn that man and
the higher animals,
especially the primates, have
some few instincts in common.
All have the same senses, intuitions,
and sensations,- similar passions,
affections, and emotions, even
the more complex ones, such as
jealousy, suspicion, emulation,
gratitude, and magnanimity; they
practise deceit and are revengeful;
they are sometimes susceptible
to ridicule, and even have a
sense of humour; they feel wonder
and curiosity; they possess the
same faculties of imitation,
attention, deliberation, choice,
memory, imagination, the association
of ideas, and reason, though
in very different degrees. The
individuals of the same species
graduate in intellect from absolute
imbecility to high excellence.
They are also liable to insanity,
though far less often than in
the case of man.* Nevertheless,
many authors have insisted that
man is divided by an insuperable
barrier from all the lower animals
in in his mental faculties. I
formerly made a collection of
above a score of such aphorisms,
but they are almost worthless,
as their wide difference and
number prove the difficulty,
if not the impossibility, of
the attempt. It has been asserted
that man alone is capable of
progressive improvement; that
he alone makes use of tools or
fire, domesticates other animals,
or possesses property; that no
animal has the power of abstraction,
or of forming general concepts,
is self-conscious and comprehends
itself; that no animal employs
language; that man alone has
a sense of beauty, is liable
to caprice, has the feeling of
gratitude, mystery, &c.; believes
in God, or is endowed with a
conscience. I will hazard a few
remarks on the more important
and interesting of these points.
* See "Madness in Animals," by
Dr. W. Lauder Lindsay, in Journal
of Mental Science, July, 1871.
Archbishop Sumner formerly maintained*
that man alone is capable of
progressive improvement. That
he is capable of incomparably
greater and more rapid improvement
than is any other animal, admits
of no dispute; and this is mainly
due to his power of speaking
and handing down his acquired
knowledge. With animals, looking
first to the individual, every
one who has had any experience
in setting traps, knows that
young animals can he caught much
more easily than old ones; and
they can be much more easily
approached by an enemy. Even
with respect to old animals,
it is impossible to catch many
in the same place and in the
same kind of trap, or to destroy
them by the same kind of poison;
yet it is improbable that all
should have partaken of the poison,
and impossible that all should
have been caught in a trap. They
must learn caution by seeing
their brethren caught or poisoned.
In North America, where the fur-bearing
animals have long been pursued,
they exhibit, according to the
unanimous testimony of all observers,
an almost incredible amount of
sagacity, caution and cunning;
but trapping has been there so
long carried on, that inheritance
may possibly have come into play.
I have received several accounts
that when telegraphs are first
set up in any district, many
birds kill themselves by flying
against the wires, but that in
the course of a very few years
they learn to avoid this danger,
by seeing, as it would appear,
their comrades killed.*(2)
* Quoted by Sir C. Lyell, Antiquity
of Man, p. 497.
*(2) For additional evidence,
with details, see M. Houzeau,
Etudes sur les Facultes Mentales
des Animaux, tom. ii., 1872,
p. 147.
If we look to successive generations,
or to the race, there is no doubt
that birds and other animals
gradually both acquire and lose
caution in relation to man or
other enemies;* and this caution
is certainly in chief part an
inherited habit or instinct,
but in part the result of individual
experience. A good observer,
Leroy,*(2) states, that in districts
where foxes are much hunted,
the young, on first leaving their
burrows, are incontestably much
more wary than the old ones in
districts where they are not
much disturbed.
* See, with
respect to birds on oceanic
islands, my Journal
of Researches during the Voyage
of the "Beagle," 1845, p. 398.
Also, Origin of Species.(OOS)
*(2) Lettres Phil. sur l'Intelligence
des Animaux, nouvelle edit.,
1802, p. 86.
Our domestic dogs are descended
from wolves and jackals,* and
though they may not have gained
in cunning, and may have lost
in wariness and suspicion, yet
they have progressed in certain
moral qualities, such as in affection,
trust-worthiness, temper, and
probably in general intelligence.
The common rat has conquered
and beaten several other species
throughout Europe, in parts of
North America, New Zealand, and
recently in Formosa, as well
as on the mainland of China.
Mr. Swinhoe,*(2) who describes
these two latter cases, attributes
the victory of the common rat
over the large Mus coninga to
its superior cunning; and this
latter quality may probably be
attributed to the habitual exercise
of all its faculties in avoiding
extirpation by man, as well as
to nearly all the less cunning
or weak-minded rats having been
continuously destroyed by him.
It is, however, possible that
the success of the common rat
may be due to its having possessed
greater cunning than its fellow-species,
before it became associated with
man. To maintain, independently
of any direct evidence, that
no animal during the course of
ages has progressed in intellect
or other mental faculties, is
to beg the question of the evolution
of species. We have seen that,
according to Lartet, existing
mammals belonging to several
orders have larger brains than
their ancient tertiary prototypes.
* See the evidence on this head
in chap. i., vol. i., On the
Variation of Animals and Plants
under Domestication.
*(2) Proceedings Zoological
Society, 1864, p. 186.
It has often
been said that no animal uses
any tool; but
the chimpanzee in a state of
nature cracks a native fruit,
somewhat like a walnut, with
a stone.* Rengger*(2) easily
taught an American monkey thus
to break open hard palm-nuts;
and afterwards of its own accord,
it used stones to open other
kinds of nuts, as well as boxes.
It thus also removed the soft
rind of fruit that had a disagreeable
flavour. Another monkey was taught
to open the lid of a large box
with a stick, and afterwards
it used the stick as a lever
to move heavy bodies; and I have
myself seen a young orang put
a stick into a crevice, slip
his hand to the other end, and
use it in the proper manner as
a lever. The tamed elephants
in India are well known to break
off branches of trees and use
them to drive away the flies;
and this same act has been observed
in an elephant in a state of
nature.*(3) I have seen a young
orang, when she thought she was
going to be whipped, cover and
protect herself with a blanket
or straw. In these several cases
stones and sticks were employed
as implements; but they are likewise
used as weapons. Brehm*(4) states,
on the authority of the well-known
traveller Schimper, that in Abyssinia
when the baboons belonging to
one species (C. gelada) descend
in troops from the mountains
to plunder the fields, they sometimes
encounter troops of another species
(C. hamadryas), and then a fight
ensues. The Geladas roll down
great stones, which the Hamadryas
try to avoid, and then both species,
making a great uproar, rush furiously
against each other. Brehm, when
accompanying the Duke of Coburg-Gotha,
aided in an attack with fire-arms
on a troop of baboons in the
pass of Mensa in Abyssinia. The
baboons in return rolled so many
stones down the mountain, some
as large as a man's head, that
the attackers had to beat a hasty
retreat; and the pass was actually
closed for a time against the
caravan. It deserves notice that
these baboons thus acted in concert.
Mr. Wallace*(5) on three occasions
saw female orangs, accompanied
by their young, "breaking off
branches and the great spiny
fruit of the Durian tree, with
every appearance of rage; causing
such a shower of missiles as
effectually kept us from approaching
too near the tree." As I have
repeatedly seen, a chimpanzee
will throw any object at hand
at a person who offends him;
and the before-mentioned baboon
at the Cape of Good Hope prepared
mud for the purpose.
* Savage and Wyman in Boston
Journal of Natural History, vol.
iv., 1843-44, p. 383.
*(2) Saugethiere von Paraguay,
1830, ss. 51-56.
*(3) The Indian Field, March
4, 1871.
*(4) Illustriertes Thierleben,
B. i., s. 79, 82.
*(5) The Malay Archipelago,
vol. i., 1869, p. 87.
In the Zoological Gardens, a
monkey, which had weak teeth,
used to break open nuts with
a stone; and I was assured by
the keepers that after using
the stone, he hid it in the straw,
and would not let any other monkey
touch it. Here, then, we have
the idea of property; but this
idea is common to every dog with
a bone, and to most or all birds
with their nests.
The Duke of
Argyll* remarks, that the fashioning
of an implement
for a special purpose is absolutely
peculiar to man; and he considers
that this forms an immeasurable
gulf between him and the brutes.
This is no doubt a very important
distinction; but there appears
to me much truth in Sir J. Lubbock's
suggestion,*(2) that when primeval
man first used flint-stones for
any purpose, he would have accidentally
splintered them, and would then
have used the sharp fragments.
From this step it would be a
small one to break the flints
on purpose, and not a very wide
step to fashion them rudely.
This latter advance, however,
may have taken long ages, if
we may judge by the immense interval
of time which elapsed before
the men of the neolithic period
took to grinding and polishing
their stone tools. In breaking
the flints, as Sir J. Lubbock
likewise remarks, sparks would
have been emitted, and in grinding
them heat would have been evolved:
thus the two usual methods of "obtaining
fire may have originated." The
nature of fire would have been
known in the many volcanic regions
where lava occasionally flows
through forests. The anthropomorphous
apes, guided probably by instinct,
build for themselves temporary
platforms; but as many instincts
are largely controlled by reason,
the simpler ones, such as this
of building a platform, might
readily pass into a voluntary
and conscious act. The orang
is known to cover itself at night
with the leaves of the pandanus;
and Brehm states that one of
his baboons used to protect itself
from the heat of the sun by throwing
a straw-mat over its head. In
these several habits, we probably
see the first steps towards some
of the simpler arts, such as
rude architecture and dress,
as they arose amongst the early
progenitors of man.
* Primeval Man, 1869, pp. 145,
147.
*(2) Prehistoric
Times, 1865, p. 473, &c.
Abstraction,
General Conceptions, Self-consciousness,
Mental Individuality.-
It would be very difficult for
any one with even much more knowledge
than I possess, to determine
how far animals exhibit any traces
of these high mental powers.
This difficulty arises from the
impossibility of judging what
passes through the mind of an
animal; and again, the fact that
writers differ to a great extent
in the meaning which they attribute
to the above terms, causes a
further difficulty. If one may
judge from various articles which
have been published lately, the
greatest stress seems to be laid
on the supposed entire absence
in animals of the power of abstraction,
or of forming general concepts.
But when a dog sees another dog
at a distance, it is often clear
that he perceives that it is
a dog in the abstract; for when
he gets nearer his whole manner
suddenly changes if the other
dog be a friend. A recent writer
remarks, that in all such cases
it is a pure assumption to assert
that the mental act is not essentially
of the same nature in the animal
as in man. If either refers what
he perceives with his senses
to a mental concept, then so
do both.* When I say to my terrier,
in an eager voice (and I have
made the trial many times), "Hi,
hi, where is it?" she at once
takes it as a sign that something
is to be hunted, and generally
first looks quickly all around,
and then rushes into the nearest
thicket, to scent for any game,
but finding nothing, she looks
up into any neighbouring tree
for a squirrel. Now do not these
actions clearly shew that she
had in her mind a general idea
or concept that some animal is
to be discovered and hunted?
* Mr. Hookham, in a letter to
Prof. Max Muller, in the Birmingham
News, May, 1873.
It may be freely
admitted that no animal is
self-conscious,
if by this term it is implied,
that he reflects on such points,
as whence he comes or whither
he will go, or what is life and
death, and so forth. But how
can we feel sure that an old
dog with an excellent memory
and some power of imagination,
as shewn by his dreams, never
reflects on his past pleasures
or pains in the chase? And this
would be a form of self-consciousness.
On the other hand, as Buchner*
has remarked, how little can
the hard worked wife of a degraded
Australian savage, who uses very
few abstract words, and cannot
count above four, exert her self-consciousness,
or reflect on the nature of her
own existence. It is generally
admitted, that the higher animals
possess memory, attention, association,
and even some imagination and
reason. If these powers, which
differ much in different animals,
are capable of improvement, there
seems no great improbability
in more complex faculties, such
as the higher forms of abstraction,
and self-consciousness, &c.,
having been evolved through the
development and combination of
the simpler ones. It has been
urged against the views here
maintained that it is impossible
to say at what point in the ascending
scale animals become capable
of abstraction, &c.; but who
can say at what age this occurs
in our young children? We see
at least that such powers are
developed in children by imperceptible
degrees.
* Conferences sur la Theorie
Darwinienne, French translat.,
1869, p. 132.
That animals
retain their mental individuality
is unquestionable.
When my voice awakened a train
of old associations in the mind
of the before-mentioned dog,
he must have retained his mental
individuality, although every
atom of his brain had probably
undergone change more than once
during the interval of five years.
This dog might have brought forward
the argument lately advanced
to crush all evolutionists, and
said, "I abide amid all mental
moods and all material changes....
The teaching that atoms leave
their impressions as legacies
to other atoms falling into the
places they have vacated is contradictory
of the utterance of consciousness,
and is therefore false; but it
is the teaching necessitated
by evolutionism, consequently
the hypothesis is a false one."*
* The Rev. Dr. J. M'Cann, Anti-Darwinism,
1869, p. 13.
Language.- This
faculty has justly been considered
as one
of the chief distinctions between
man and the lower animals. But
man, as a highly competent judge,
Archbishop Whately remarks, "is
not the only animal that can
make use of language to express
what is passing in his mind,
and can understand, more or less,
what is so expressed by another."*
In Paraguay the Cebus azarae
when excited utters at least
six distinct sounds, which excite
in other monkeys similar emotions.*(2)
The movements of the features
and gestures of monkeys are understood
by us, and they partly understand
ours, as Rengger and others declare.
It is a more remarkable fact
that the dog, since being domesticated,
has learnt to bark*(3) in at
least four or five distinct tones.
Although barking is a new art,
no doubt the wild parent-species
of the dog expressed their feelings
by cries of various kinds. With
the domesticated dog we have
the bark of eagerness, as in
the chase; that of anger, as
well as growling; the yelp or
howl of despair, as when shut
up; the baying at night; the
bark of joy, as when starting
on a walk with his master; and
the very distinct one of demand
or supplication, as when wishing
for a door or window to be opened.
According to Houzeau, who paid
particular attention to the subject,
the domestic fowl utters at least
a dozen significant sounds.*(4)
* Quoted in Anthropological
Review, 1864, p. 158.
*(2) Rengger, ibid., s. 45.
*(3) See my Variation of Animals
and Plants under Domestication,
vol. i., p. 27.
*(4) Facultes Mentales des Animaux,
tom. ii., 1872, p. 346-349.
The habitual use of articulate
language is, however, peculiar
to man; but he uses, in common
with the lower animals, inarticulate
cries to express his meaning,
aided by gestures and the movements
of the muscles of the face.*
This especially holds good with
the more simple and vivid feelings,
which are but little connected
with our higher intelligence.
Our cries of pain, fear, surprise,
anger, together with their appropriate
actions, and the murmur of a
mother to her beloved child are
more expressive than any words.
That which distinguishes man
from the lower animals is not
the understanding of articulate
sounds, for, as every one knows,
dogs understand many words and
sentences. In this respect they
are at the same stage of development
as infants, between the ages
of ten and twelve months, who
understand many words and short
sentences, but cannot yet utter
a single word. It is not the
mere articulation which is our
distinguishing character, for
parrots and other birds possess
this power. Nor is it the mere
capacity of connecting definite
sounds with definite ideas; for
it is certain that some parrots,
which have been taught to speak,
connect unerringly words with
things, and persons with events.*(2)
The lower animals differ from
man solely in his almost infinitely
larger power of associating together
the most diversified sounds and
ideas; and this obviously depends
on the high development of his
mental powers.
* See a discussion on this subject
in Mr. E. B. Tylor's very interesting
work, Researches into the Early
History of Mankind, 1865, chaps.
ii. to iv.
*(2) I have
received several detailed accounts
to this effect.
Admiral Sir. B. J. Sulivan, whom
I know to be a careful observer,
assures me that an African parrot,
long kept in his father's house,
invariably called certain persons
of the household, as well as
visitors, by their names. He
said "good morning" to every
one at breakfast, and "good night" to
each as they left the room at
night, and never reversed these
salutations. To Sir B. J. Sulivan's
father, he used to add to the " good
morning" a short sentence, which
was never once repeated after
his father's death. He scolded
violently a strange dog which
came into the room through the
open window; and he scolded another
parrot (saying "you naughty polly")
which had got out of its cage,
and was eating apples on the
kitchen table. See also, to the
same effect, Houzeau on parrots,
Facultes Mentales, tom. ii.,
p. 309. Dr. A. Moschkau informs
me that he knew a starling which
never made a mistake in saying
in German " good morning" to
persons arriving, and "good bye,
old fellow," to those departing.
I could add several other such
cases.
As Horne Tooke,
one of the founders of the
noble science of philology,
observes, language is an art,
like brewing or baking; but writing
would have been a better simile.
It certainly is not a true instinct,
for every language has to be
learnt. It differs, however,
widely from all ordinary arts,
for man has an instinctive tendency
to speak, as we see in the babble
of our young children; whilst
no child has an instinctive tendency
to brew, bake, or write. Moreover,
no philologist now supposes that
any language has been deliberately
invented; it has been slowly
and unconsciously developed by
many steps.* The sounds uttered
by birds offer in several respects
the nearest analogy to language,
for all the members of the same
species utter the same instinctive
cries expressive of their emotions;
and all the kinds which sing,
exert their power instinctively;
but the actual song, and even
the call-notes, are learnt from
their parents or foster-parents.
These sounds, as Daines Barrington*(2)
has proved, "are no more innate
than language is in man." The
first attempts to sing "may be
compared to the imperfect endeavour
in a child to babble." The young
males continue practising, or
as the bird-catchers say, "recording," for
ten or eleven months. Their first
essays show hardly a rudiment
of the future song; but as they
grow older we can perceive what
they are aiming at; and at last
they are said "to sing their
song round." Nestlings which
have learnt the song of a distinct
species, as with the canary-birds
educated in the Tyrol, teach
and transmit their new song to
their offspring. The slight natural
differences of song in the same
species inhabiting different
districts may be appositely compared,
as Barrington remarks, "to provincial
dialects"; and the songs of allied,
though distinct species may be
compared with the languages of
distinct races of man. I have
given the foregoing details to
shew that an instinctive tendency
to acquire an art is not peculiar
to man.
* See some good
remarks on this head by Prof.
Whitney, in his
Oriental and Linguistic Studies,
1873, p. 354. He observes that
the desire of communication between
man is the living force, which,
in the development of language, "works
both consciously and unconsciously;
consciously as regards the immediate
end to be attained; unconsciously
as regards the further consequences
of the act."
*(2) Hon. Daines Barrington
in Philosoph. Transactions, 1773,
p. 262. See also Dureau de la
Malle, in Ann. des. Sc. Nat.,
3rd series, Zoolog., tom. x.,
p. 119.
With respect to the origin of
articulate language, after having
read on the one side the highly
interesting works of Mr. Hensleigh
Wedgwood, the Rev. F. Farrar,
and Prof. Schleicher,* and the
celebrated lectures of Prof.
Max Muller on the other side,
I cannot doubt that language
owes its origin to the imitation
and modification of various natural
sounds, the voices of other animals,
and man's own instinctive cries,
aided by signs and gestures.
When we treat of sexual selection
we shall see that primeval man,
or rather some early progenitor
of man, probably first used his
voice in producing true musical
cadences, that is in singing,
as do some of the gibbon-apes
at the present day; and we may
conclude from a widely-spread
analogy, that this power would
have been especially exerted
during the courtship of the sexes,-
would have expressed various
emotions, such as love, jealousy,
triumph,- and would have served
as a challenge to rivals. It
is, therefore, probable that
the imitation of musical cries
by articulate sounds may have
given rise to words expressive
of various complex emotions.
The strong tendency in our nearest
allies, the monkeys, in microcephalous
idiots,*(2) and in the barbarous
races of mankind, to imitate
whatever they hear deserves notice,
as bearing on the subject of
imitation. Since monkeys certainly
understand much that is said
to them by man, and when wild,
utter signal-cries of danger
to their fellows;*(3) and since
fowls give distinct warnings
for danger on the ground, or
in the sky from hawks (both,
as well as a third cry, intelligible
to dogs),*(4) may not some unusually
wise apelike animal have imitated
the growl of a beast of prey,
and thus told his fellow-monkeys
the nature of the expected danger?
This would have been a first
step in the formation of a language.
* On the Origin of Language,
by H. Wedgwood, 1866. Chapters
on Language, by the Rev. F. W.
Farrar, 1865. These works are
most interesting. See also De
la Phys. et de Parole, par Albert
Lemoine, 1865, p. 190. The work
on this subject, by the late
Prof. Aug. Schleicher, has been
translated by Dr. Bikkers into
English, under the title of Darwinism
tested by the Science of Language,
1869.
*(2) Vogt, Memoire
sur les Microcephales, 1867,
p. 169. With respect to
savages, I have given some facts
in my Journal of Researches, &c.,
1845, p. 206.
*(3) See clear evidence on this
head in the two works so often
quoted, by Brehm and Rengger.
*(4) Houzeau gives a very curious
account of his observations on
this subject in his Facultes
Mentales des Animaux, tom. ii.,
p. 348.
As the voice was used more and
more, the vocal organs would
have been strengthened and perfected
through the principle of the
inherited effects of use; and
this would have reacted on the
power of speech. But the relation
between the continued use of
language and the development
of the brain, has no doubt been
far more important. The mental
powers in some early progenitor
of man must have been more highly
developed than in any existing
ape, before even the most imperfect
form of speech could have come
into use; but we may confidently
believe that the continued use
and advancement of this power
would have reacted on the mind
itself, by enabling and encouraging
it to carry on long trains of
thought. A complex train of thought
can no more be carried on without
the aid of words, whether spoken
or silent, than a long calculation
without the use of figures or
algebra. It appears, also, that
even an ordinary train of thought
almost requires, or is greatly
facilitated by some form of language,
for the dumb, deaf, and blind
girl, Laura Bridgman, was observed
to use her fingers whilst dreaming.*
Nevertheless, a long succession
of vivid and connected ideas
may pass through the mind without
the aid of any form of language,
as we may infer from the movements
of dogs during their dreams.
We have, also, seen that animals
are able to reason to a certain
extent, manifestly without the
aid of language. The intimate
connection between the brain,
as it is now developed in us,
and the faculty of speech, is
well shewn by those curious cases
of brain-disease in which speech
is specially affected, as when
the power to remember substantives
is lost, whilst other words can
be correctly used, or where substantives
of a certain class, or all except
the initial letters of substantives
and proper names are forgotten.*(2)
There is no more improbability
in the continued use of the mental
and vocal organs leading to inherited
changes in their structure and
functions, than in the case of
hand-writing, which depends partly
on the form of the hand and partly
on the disposition of the mind;
and handwriting is certainly
inherited.*(3)
* See remarks on this head by
Dr. Maudsley, The Physiology
and Pathology of Mind, 2nd ed.,
1868, p. 199.
*(2) Many curious
cases have been recorded. See,
for instance,
Dr. Bateman On Aphasia, 1870,
pp. 27, 31, 53, 100, &c. Also,
Inquiries Concerning the Intellectual
Powers, by Dr. Abercrombie, 1838,
p. 150.
*(3) The Variation of Animals
and Plants under Domestication,
vol. ii., p. 6.
Several writers,
more especially Prof. Max Muller,*
have lately
insisted that the use of language
implies the power of forming
general concepts; and that as
no animals are supposed to possess
this power, an impassable barrier
is formed between them and man.*(2)
With respect to animals, I have
already endeavoured to shew that
they have this power, at least
in a rude and incipient degree.
As far as concerns infants of
from ten to eleven months old,
and deaf-mutes, it seems to me
incredible, that they should
be able to connect certain sounds
with certain general ideas as
quickly as they do, unless such
ideas were already formed in
their minds. The same remark
may be extended to the more intelligent
animals; as Mr. Leslie Stephen
observes,*(3) "A dog frames a
general concept of cats or sheep,
and knows the corresponding words
as well as a philosopher. And
the capacity to understand is
as good a proof of vocal intelligence,
though in an inferior degree,
as the capacity to speak."
* Lectures on Mr. Darwin's Philosophy
of Language, 1873.
*(2) The judgment
of a distinguished philologist,
such as Prof. Whitney,
will have far more weight on
this point than anything that
I can say. He remarks (Oriental
and Linguistic Studies, 1873,
p. 297), in speaking of Bleek's
views: "Because on the grand
scale language is the necessary
auxiliary of thought, indispensable
to the development of the power
of thinking, to the distinctness
and variety and complexity of
cognitions, to the full mastery
of consciousness; therefore he
would fain make thought absolutely
impossible without speech, identifying
the faculty with its instrument.
He might just as reasonably assert
that the human hand cannot act
without a tool. With such a doctrine
to start from, he cannot stop
short of Max Muller's worst paradoxes,
that an infant (in fans, not
speaking) is not a human being,
and that deaf-mutes do not become
possessed of reason until they
learn to twist their fingers
into imitation of spoken words." Max
Muller gives in italics (Lectures
on Mr. Darwin's Philosophy of
Language, 1873, third lecture)
this aphorism: "There is no thought
without words, as little as there
are words without thought." What
a strange definition must here
be given to the word thought!
*(3) Essays
on Free Thinking, &c.,
1873, p. 82.
Why the organs now used for
speech should have been originally
perfected for this purpose, rather
than any other organs, it is
not difficult to see. Ants have
considerable powers of inter-communication
by means of their antennae, as
shewn by Huber, who devotes a
whole chapter to their language.
We might have used our fingers
as efficient instruments, for
a person with practice can report
to a deaf man every word of a
speech rapidly delivered at a
public meeting; but the loss
of our hands, whilst thus employed,
would have been a serious inconvenience.
As all the higher mammals possess
vocal organs, constructed on
the same general plan as ours,
and used as a means of communication,
it was obviously probable that
these same organs would be still
further developed if the power
of communication had to be improved;
and this has been effected by
the aid of adjoining and well
adapted parts, namely the tongue
and lips.* The fact of the higher
apes not using their vocal organs
for speech, no doubt depends
on their intelligence not having
been sufficiently advanced. The
possession by them of organs,
which with long-continued practice
might have been used for speech,
although not thus used, is paralleled
by the case of many birds which
possess organs fitted for singing,
though they never sing. Thus,
the nightingale and crow have
vocal organs similarly constructed,
these being used by the former
for diversified song, and by
the latter only for croaking.*(2)
If it be asked why apes have
not had their intellects developed
to the same degree as that of
man, general causes only can
be assigned in answer, and it
is unreasonable to expect any
thing more definite, considering
our ignorance with respect to
the successive stages of development
through which each creature has
passed.
* See some good remarks to this
effect by Dr. Maudsley, The Physiology
and Pathology of Mind, 1868,
p. 199.
*(2) Macgillivray, Hist. of
British Birds, vol. ii., 1839,
p. 29. An excellent observer,
Mr. Blackwall remarks that the
magpie learns to pronounce single
words, and even short sentences,
more readily than almost any
other British bird; yet, as he
adds, after long and closely
investigating its habits, he
has never known it, in a state
of nature, display any unusual
capacity for imitation. Researches
in Zoology, 1834, p. 158.
The formation
of different languages and
of distinct species, and
the proofs that both have been
developed through a gradual process,
are curiously parallel.* But
we can trace the formation of
many words further back than
that of species, for we can perceive
how they actually arose from
the imitation of various sounds.
We find in distinct languages
striking homologies due to community
of descent, and analogies due
to a similar process of formation.
The manner in which certain letters
or sounds change when others
change is very like correlated
growth. We have in both cases
the re-duplication of parts,
the effects of long-continued
use, and so forth. The frequent
presence of rudiments, both in
languages and in species, is
still more remarkable. The letter
m in the word am, means I; so
that in the expression I am,
a superfluous and useless rudiment
has been retained. In the spelling
also of words, letters often
remain as the rudiments of ancient
forms of pronunciation. Languages,
like organic beings, can be classed
in groups under groups; and they
can be classed either naturally
according to descent, or artificially
by other characters. Dominant
languages and dialects spread
widely, and lead to the gradual
extinction of other tongues.
A language, like a species, when
once extinct, never, as Sir C.
Lyell remarks, reappears. The
same language never has two birth-places.
Distinct languages may be crossed
or blended together.*(2) We see
variability in every tongue,
and new words are continually
cropping up; but as there is
a limit to the powers of the
memory, single words, like whole
languages, gradually become extinct.
As Max Muller*(3) has well remarked:- "A
struggle for life is constantly
going on amongst the words and
grammatical forms in each language.
The better, the shorter, the
easier forms are constantly gaining
the upper hand, and they owe
their success to their own inherent
virtue." To these more important
causes of the survival of certain
words, mere novelty and fashion
may be added; for there is in
the mind of man a strong love
for slight changes in all things.
The survival or preservation
of certain favoured words in
the struggle for existence is
natural selection.
* See the very interesting parallelism
between the development of species
and languages, given by Sir C.
Lyell in The Geological Evidences
of the Antiquity of Man, 1863,
chap. xxiii.
*(2) See remarks
to this effect by the Rev.
F. W. Farrar, in
an interesting article, entitled
Philology and Darwinism," in
Nature, March 24, 1870, p. 528.
*(3) Nature, January 6, 1870,
p. 257.
The perfectly
regular and wonderfully complex
construction of the languages
of many barbarous nations has
often been advanced as a proof,
either of the divine origin of
these languages, or of the high
art and former civilisation of
their founders. Thus F. von Schlegel
writes: "In those languages which
appear to be at the lowest grade
of intellectual culture, we frequently
observe a very high and elaborate
degree of art in their grammatical
structure. This is especially
the case with the Basque and
the Lapponian, and many of the
American languages."* But it
is assuredly an error to speak
of any language as an art, in
the sense of its having been
elaborately and methodically
formed. Philologists now admit
that conjugations, declensions, &c.,
originally existed as distinct
words, since joined together;
and as such words express the
most obvious relations between
objects and persons, it is not
surprising that they should have
been used by the men of most
races during the earliest ages.
With respect to perfection, the
following illustration will best
shew how easily we may err: a
crinoid sometimes consists of
no less than 150,000 pieces of
shell,*(2) all arranged with
perfect symmetry in radiating
lines; but a naturalist does
not consider an animal of this
kind as more perfect than a bilateral
one with comparatively few parts,
and with none of these parts
alike, excepting on the opposite
sides of the body. He justly
considers the differentiation
and specialisation of organs
as the test of perfection. So
with languages: the most symmetrical
and complex ought not to be ranked
above irregular, abbreviated,
and bastardised languages, which
have borrowed expressive words
and useful forms of construction
from various conquering, conquered,
or immigrant races.
* Quoted by C. S. Wake, Chapters
on Man, 1868, p. 101.
*(2) Buckland, Bridgewater Treatise,
p. 411.
From these few and imperfect
remarks I conclude that the extremely
complex and regular construction
of many barbarous languages,
is no proof that they owe their
origin to a special act of creation.*
Nor, as we have seen, does the
faculty of articulate speech
in itself offer any insuperable
objection to the belief that
man has been developed from some
lower form.
* See some good remarks on the
simplification of languages,
by Sir J. Lubbock, Origin of
Civilisation, 1870, p. 278.
Sense of Beauty.- This sense
has been declared to be peculiar
to man. I refer here only to
the pleasure given by certain
colours, forms, and sounds, and
which may fairly be called a
sense of the beautiful; with
cultivated men such sensations
are, however, intimately associated
with complex ideas and trains
of thought. When we behold a
male bird elaborately displaying
his graceful plumes or splendid
colours before the female, whilst
other birds, not thus decorated,
make no such display, it is impossible
to doubt that she admires the
beauty of her male partner. As
women everywhere deck themselves
with these plumes, the beauty
of such ornaments cannot be disputed.
As we shall see later, the nests
of humming-birds, and the playing
passages of bower-birds are tastefully
ornamented with gaily-coloured
objects; and this shews that
they must receive some kind of
pleasure from the sight of such
things. With the great majority
of animals, however, the taste
for the beautiful is confined,
as far as we can judge, to the
attractions of the opposite sex.
The sweet strains poured forth
by many male birds during the
season of love, are certainly
admired by the females, of which
fact evidence will hereafter
be given. If female birds had
been incapable of appreciating
the beautiful colours, the ornaments,
and voices of their male partners,
all the labour and anxiety exhibited
by the latter in displaying their
charms before the females would
have been thrown away; and this
it is impossible to admit. Why
certain bright colours should
excite pleasure cannot, I presume,
be explained, any more than why
certain flavours and scents are
agreeable; but habit has something
to do with the result, for that
which is at first unpleasant
to our senses, ultimately becomes
pleasant, and habits are inherited.
With respect to sounds, Helmholtz
has explained to a certain extent
on physiological principles,
why harmonies and certain cadences
are agreeable. But besides this,
sounds frequently recurring at
irregular intervals are highly
disagreeable, as every one will
admit who has listened at night
to the irregular flapping of
a rope on board ship. The same
principle seems to come into
play with vision, as the eye
prefers symmetry or figures with
some regular recurrence. Patterns
of this kind are employed by
even the lowest savages as ornaments;
and they have been developed
through sexual selection for
the adornment of some male animals.
Whether we can or not give any
reason for the pleasure thus
derived from vision and hearing,
yet man and many of the lower
animals are alike pleased by
the same colours, graceful shading
and forms, and the same sounds.
The taste for the beautiful,
at least as far as female beauty
is concerned, is not of a special
nature in the human mind; for
it differs widely in the different
races of man, and is not quite
the same even in the different
nations of the same race. Judging
from the hideous ornaments, and
the equally hideous music admired
by most savages, it might be
urged that their Aesthetic faculty
was not so highly developed as
in certain animals, for instance,
as in birds. Obviously no animal
would be capable of admiring
such scenes as the heavens at
night, a beautiful landscape,
or refined music; but such high
tastes are acquired through culture,
and depend on complex associations;
they are not enjoyed by barbarians
or by uneducated persons.
Many of the
faculties, which have been
of inestimable service
to man for his progressive advancement,
such as the powers of the imagination,
wonder, curiosity, an undefined
sense of beauty, a tendency to
imitation, and the love of excitement
or novelty, could hardly fail
to lead to capricious changes
of customs and fashions. I have
alluded to this point, because
a recent writer* has oddly fixed
on Caprice "as one of the most
remarkable and typical differences
between savages and brutes." But
not only can we partially understand
how it is that man is from various
conflicting influences rendered
capricious, but that the lower
animals are, as we shall hereafter
see, likewise capricious in their
affections, aversions, and sense
of beauty. There is also reason
to suspect that they love novelty,
for its own sake.
* The Spectator, Dec. 4. 1869,
p. 1430.
Belief in God- Religion.- There
is no evidence that man was aboriginally
endowed with the ennobling belief
in the existence of an Omnipotent
God. On the contrary there is
ample evidence, derived not from
hasty travellers, but from men
who have long resided with savages,
that numerous races have existed,
and still exist, who have no
idea of one or more gods, and
who have no words in their languages
to express such an idea.* The
question is of course wholly
distinct from that higher one,
whether there exists a Creator
and Ruler of the universe; and
this has been answered in the
affirmative by some of the highest
intellects that have ever existed.
* See an excellent article on
this subject by the Rev. F. W.
Farrar, in the Anthropological
Review, Aug., 1864, p. ccxvii.
For further facts see Sir J.
Lubbock, Prehistoric Times, 2nd
ed., 1869, p. 564; and especially
the chapters on Religion in his
Origin of Civilisation, 1870.
If, however,
we include under the term "religion" the belief
in unseen or spiritual agencies
the case is wholly different;
for this belief seems to be universal
with the less civilised races.
Nor is it difficult to comprehend
how it arose. As soon as the
important faculties of the imagination,
wonder, and curiosity, together
with some power of reasoning,
had become partially developed,
man would naturally crave to
understand what was passing around
him, and would have vaguely speculated
on his own existence. As Mr.
M'Lennan* has remarked, "Some
explanation of the phenomena
of life, a man must feign for
himself, and to judge from the
universality of it, the simplest
hypothesis, and the first to
occur to men, seems to have been
that natural phenomena are ascribable
to the presence in animals, plants,
and things, and in the forces
of nature, of such spirits prompting
to action as men are conscious
they themselves possess." It
is also probable, as Mr. Tylor
has shewn, that dreams may have
first given rise to the notion
of spirits; for savages do not
readily distinguish between subjective
and objective impressions. When
a savage dreams, the figures
which appear before him are believed
to have come from a distance,
and to stand over him; or "the
soul of the dreamer goes out
on its travels, and comes home
with a remembrance of what it
has seen."*(2) But until the
faculties of imagination, curiosity,
reason, &c., had been fairly
well developed in the mind of
man, his dreams would not have
led him to believe in spirits,
any more than in the case of
a dog.
* "The Worship of Animals and
Plants," in the Fortnightly Review,
Oct. 1, 1869, p. 422.
*(2) Tylor,
Early History of Mankind, 1865,
p. 6. See also
the three striking chapters on
the "Development of Religion," in
Lubbock's Origin of Civilisation,
1870. In a like manner Mr. Herbert
Spencer, in his ingenious essay
in the Fortnightly Review (May
1, 1870, p. 535), accounts for
the earliest forms of religious
belief throughout the world,
by man being led through dreams,
shadows, and other causes, to
look at himself as a double essence,
corporeal and spiritual. As the
spiritual being is supposed to
exist after death and to be powerful,
it is propitiated by various
gifts and ceremonies, and its
aid invoked. He then further
shews that names or nicknames
given from some animal or other
object, to the early progenitors
or founders of a tribe, are supposed
after a long interval to represent
the real progenitor of the tribe;
and such animal or object is
then naturally believed still
to exist as a spirit, is held
sacred, and worshipped as a god.
Nevertheless I cannot but suspect
that there is a still earlier
and ruder stage, when anything
which manifests power or movement
is thought to be endowed with
some form of life, and with mental
faculties analogous to our own.
The tendency in savages to imagine
that natural objects and agencies
are animated by spiritual or
living essences, is perhaps illustrated
by a little fact which I once
noticed: my dog, a full-grown
and very sensible animal, was
lying on the lawn during a hot
and still day; but at a little
distance a slight breeze occasionally
moved an open parasol, which
would have been wholly disregarded
by the dog, had any one stood
near it. As it was, every time
that the parasol slightly moved,
the dog growled fiercely and
barked. He must, I think, have
reasoned to himself in a rapid
and unconscious manner, that
movement without any apparent
cause indicated the presence
of some strange living agent,
and that no stranger had a right
to be on his territory.
The belief in
spiritual agencies would easily
pass into the belief
in the existence of one or more
gods. For savages would naturally
attribute to spirits the same
passions, the same love of vengeance
or simplest form of justice,
and the same affections which
they themselves feel. The Fuegians
appear to be in this respect
in an intermediate condition,
for when the surgeon on board
the Beagle shot some young ducklings
as specimens, York Minster declared
in the most solemn manner, "Oh,
Mr. Bynoe, much rain, much snow,
blow much"; and this was evidently
a retributive punishment for
wasting human food. So again
he related how, when his brother
killed a "wild man," storms long
raged, much rain and snow fell.
Yet we could never discover that
the Fuegians believed in what
we should call a God, or practised
any religious rites; and Jemmy
Button, with justifiable pride,
stoutly maintained that there
was no devil in his land. This
latter assertion is the more
remarkable, as with savages the
belief in bad spirits is far
more common than that in good
ones.
The feeling of religious devotion
is a highly complex one, consisting
of love, complete submission
to an exalted and mysterious
superior, a strong sense of dependence,*
fear, reverence, gratitude, hope
for the future, and perhaps other
elements. No being could experience
so complex an emotion until advanced
in his intellectual and moral
faculties to at least a moderately
high level. Nevertheless, we
see some distant approach to
this state of mind in the deep
love of a dog for his master,
associated with complete submission,
some fear, and perhaps other
feelings. The behaviour of a
dog when returning to his master
after an absence, and, as I may
add, of a monkey to his beloved
keeper, is widely different from
that towards their fellows. In
the latter case the transports
of joy appear to be somewhat
less, and the sense of equality
is shewn in every action. Professor
Braubach goes so far as to maintain
that a dog looks on his master
as on a god.*(2)
* See an able
article on the "Physical
Elements of Religion," by Mr.
L. Owen Pike, in Anthropological
Review, April, 1870, p. lxiii.
*(2) Religion,
Moral, &c., der
Darwin'schen Art-Lehre, 1869,
s. 53. It is said (Dr. W. Lauder
Lindsay, Journal of Mental Science,
1871, p. 43), that Bacon long
ago, and the poet Burns, held
the same notion.
The same high
mental faculties which first
led man to believe
in unseen spiritual agencies,
then in fetishism, polytheism,
and ultimately in monotheism,
would infallibly lead him, as
long as his reasoning powers
remained poorly developed, to
various strange superstitions
and customs. Many of these are
terrible to think of- such as
the sacrifice of human beings
to a blood-loving god; the trial
of innocent persons by the ordeal
of poison or fire; witchcraft, &c.-
yet it is well occasionally to
reflect on these superstitions,
for they shew us what an infinite
debt of gratitude we owe to the
improvement of our reason, to
science, and to our accumulated
knowledge. As Sir J. Lubbock*
has well observed, "it is not
too much to say that the horrible
dread of unknown evil hangs like
a thick cloud over savage life,
and embitters every pleasure." These
miserable and indirect consequences
of our highest faculties may
be compared with the incidental
and occasional mistakes of the
instincts of the lower animals.
* Prehistoric Times, 2nd ed.,
p. 571. In this work (p. 571)
there will be found an excellent
account of the many strange and
capricious customs of savages. |