Man And His Ancestor Part 9

Millions of years have probably pa.s.sed away since it began, yet the period involved is none too long for the magnitude of the results, whose greatness can be seen if we contrast man's mental development with that of the lower animals during this period. Physically, the development of man has been inconsiderable--much less apparently than that of many other animals. Mentally, it has been enormous. The whole of nature's influences, in new and often adverse situations, have been brought to bear upon man's mind, and as the result we have civilized man as contrasted with the anthropoid ape. And the end is not yet. The era of war in man's development is near its close, and a new era of peace, under conditions of advanced mental and physical activity, seems about to begin. Its outcome no man can predict, but it may far surpa.s.s in beneficial results all that has gone before, and carry man upward to an extraordinarily elevated mental plane.

XII

THE EVOLUTION OF MORALITY

The evolution of man from his animal ancestry has been a composite phenomenon, one by no means confined to the physical and intellectual conditions which we have so far considered, but embracing also features of moral and spiritual progress. The origin and growth of these need also to be reviewed, if we would present a fully rounded sketch of human evolution. So far as his physical form is concerned, man became practically completed ages ago, as the supreme effort of nature in the moulding and vitalizing of matter. When the arena of the struggle for existence became transferred from the body to the mind, variation in the body, once so active, rapidly declined; and with the full employment of the intellect in the conflict with nature, physical evolution ceased, except in minor particulars, and the organic structure of man became practically fixed. The human animal, therefore, as a physical species, has reached a stage of permanence. And this may be regarded as the supreme result of material evolution in animals; or at least it may be affirmed that, while man continues to exist, no member of the lower animal tribes can possibly develop to become his rival.

But though man is not markedly distinct as a physical species from his anthropoid ancestor, the process of evolution has not ceased, but has gone on in him rapidly and immensely. The strain has simply been transferred from the body to the mind, and to the extent that the mental characteristics are more flexible and yield more readily to formative influences, the mind has surpa.s.sed the body in rapidity of evolutionary variation. Within a period during which the lower animals have remained almost unchanged, man has varied enormously in mental conditions, and to-day may be looked upon, not merely as a distinct species, but practically as a new order, or cla.s.s, of animals, as far removed intellectually from the mammals below him as they are from the insects or mollusks.

If now we turn from the physical and intellectual to the ethical stage of development, it will be to perceive as marked and decided a process of evolution. The change has, perhaps, been even greater, since in the lower animals the moral faculties are more rudimentary than the intellectual. But, on the other hand, the moral development in man has been much inferior to the intellectual. Therefore, though the foundation was lower, the edifice has not reached nearly so great a height, and man to-day stands in moral elevation considerably below his intellectual level.

It was formerly the custom to look upon man as the only intellectual and moral animal, the forms below him being credited solely with hereditary instincts. This belief is no longer entertained by those familiar with the results of modern research. Evidences of unquestionable powers of thought have been traced in the lower animals, imagination and reason being alike indicated. The elephant, for instance, is evidently a thinking animal, and is capable of overcoming difficulties and adapting itself to new situations, using methods not unlike those which man himself might display under similar circ.u.mstances. Its grat.i.tude for favors and remembrance of and revenge for injuries are evidences of its possession of the moral attributes. The recorded instances of displays of reason in the dog, man's constant companion, are innumerable.

Intellectual attributes are still more p.r.o.nounced in the ape tribe, as indicated in a preceding chapter, where it was argued that man began his development in intellect at a somewhat advanced stage.

The same cannot be said in regard to his moral evolution. In this respect the level from which man emerged was a much lower one. If his moral growth may be symbolized as a great tree, it is one not very deeply rooted in the world below him. Yet it doubtless has grown out of the soil of animal life, and its finer tendrils and fibres may be traced to a considerable depth in this fertile soil.

Before proceeding with this subject, it is important to devote some attention to the characteristics of the moral attributes, concerning which there is much diversity of opinion. There has been abundance of theorizing upon the principles of ethics, thinkers dividing themselves into two widely separated groups. In the one school, the intuitive, the principles of morality are looked upon as inherent in the soul of man, unfolding as the plant unfolds from its seed. In the other school, the inductive, morality is claimed to be founded upon selfishness, the moving principle of human actions being the desire to avoid pain and attain pleasure. Each school makes a strong argument, which goes far to indicate that each is based upon a truth, and therefore that neither has the whole truth.

The fault would appear to lie in the attempt to make morality a unit. In our view this unity does not exist. While both schools may be partly right, neither would seem to be wholly right, and they appear to be pulling at the two ends of a single chain. Ethics, in short, may be regarded as composed of unlike halves, which unite centrally to form a whole. It may aid to reconcile the conflicting systems of theorists if it be held that the inductive half of ethics is the product of the reasoning powers and outer experience, the intuitive half the product of feeling and inner development; while both meet and harmonize in life as reason and feeling harmonize in the mind.

It is interesting to find that it is the intuitive, not the inductive, element of the moral attributes that we find princ.i.p.ally developed in the lower animals. This is the outgrowth of instinct, not of thought; the development of that principle of attraction which manifests itself in all nature, and which, when a.s.sociated with consciousness, becomes what we know as love, affection, or sympathy. It is a powerful and pervading force in all matter, intelligent and unintelligent, and in conscious beings falls naturally among the emotions. Like all the pa.s.sions, it is instinctive in origin, though it may come under the control of the intellect as the mind develops. In the lower animal world it is manifested as a vigorous attraction, the s.e.xual. In the higher animals this attraction expands and grows complex. The attraction between the s.e.xes becomes love, and in its full unfoldment may join two individuals together for life and influence most of their actions. To the attraction between the s.e.xes should be added that between parents and children, the parental and filial, and that between a.s.sociates, the tribal or social, the latter, though weaker, of the same character.

With these bonds reason has nothing to do. It does not form them and would seek in vain to sever them. They belong to a part of the mental const.i.tution which lies outside the kingdom of thought, and they, therefore, often act counter to the selfish consideration of personal safety. The love bond, indeed, in its full strength, seems to const.i.tute a partial loss of individuality. Mates will suffer pain and endure physical injury for each other or for their offspring to as great an extent as if these const.i.tuted a part of themselves, and as if their actions were performed in self-defence.

With this brief review of the philosophy of the ethical sentiments, we may proceed to a consideration of the facts. While the rudimentary form of the sentiment in question is manifest far down in the descending grades of animal life, it expands into what we may fairly term love or affection only in the higher forms. Romanes, in his "Animal Intelligence," remarks: "As regards emotions, it is among birds that we first meet with a conspicuous advance in the tenderer feelings of affection and sympathy. Those relating to the s.e.xes and the care of progeny are in this cla.s.s proverbial for their intensity, offering, in fact, a favorite type for the poet and moralist. The pining of the 'love-bird' for its absent mate, and the keen distress of a hen on losing her chickens, furnish abundant evidence of vivid feelings of the kind in question. Even the stupid-looking ostrich has heart enough to die for love, as was the case with a male in the Rotund of the Jardin des Plantes, who, having lost his mate, pined rapidly away."

Among social and communal animals the sentiment of sympathy widens to embrace all the members of the tribe, a characteristic which is very strongly manifested in so low an organism as the ant. As an example of this feeling among birds, Romanes quotes an interesting ill.u.s.tration from Edward, the naturalist. The latter had shot and wounded a tern, but before he could reach it, the helpless bird was carried off by its companions. Two of these took hold of it by the wings and flew with it several yards over the water. They then relinquished their burden to two others, and the process continued in this way until they at length reached a rock at some distance. When the hunter, eager for his prize, pursued them, the sympathetic birds again took up their wounded companion and flew off with it again over the water.

Abundant instances of this sentiment of social affection could be quoted from the mammalia. It is by no means confined to members of a species, but may extend to very unlike species. No one needs to be told of the warm affection so often shown by the dog for its master, a love which will lead it to dare wounds or death in his service, or in the protection of his property. This altruistic sentiment strongly exists in the monkeys. Examples of the ardent feeling of these animals for their fellows have been given in a preceding chapter, and many more might be quoted, if necessary. It must suffice here to quote a single further instance cited by Romanes, and relating to a small monkey which was taken ill on s.h.i.+pboard, where there were several others of different species.

"It had always been a favorite with the other monkeys, who seemed to regard it as the last born and the pet of the family; and they granted it many indulgences which they seldom conceded to one another. It was very tractable and gentle in its temper, and never took advantage of the partiality shown to it. From the moment it was taken ill, their attention and care of it redoubled; and it was truly affecting and interesting to see with what anxiety and tenderness they tended and nursed the little creature. A struggle often ensued between them for priority in these offices of affection; and some would steal one thing and some another, which they would carry to it untasted, however tempting it might be to their own palates. They would take it up gently in their forepaws, hug it to their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and cry over it as a fond mother would over her suffering child."

With the human race the love sentiment does not usually display the singleness of energy shown among the lower animals. It is affected and often checked in its development by an intricate series of influences, which act on savage and civilized man alike. The family formed the primitive human group, its linking elements being the s.e.xual attraction between man and woman and the fervent affection between parents and children. These feelings, while strong in certain directions, were crude and uneven. In savage tribes to-day the wife is an ill-treated drudge.

Yet the husband will protect his wife and children from danger at risk of his life. The maternal instinct seems still stronger. The mother often acts as if the child were an actual part of herself. Danger or injury to it produces in her a mental agony, the close equivalent of its fear or pain, and she will endure suffering and peril in its protection with an impulse beyond the control of reason.

This sentiment, in a weakened form, extended from the family to the group; and the success of man in gaining the mastery over the other animals was doubtless greatly aided by the strong bond of social affinity existing between the members of a group. They worked together in a fuller sense than any other animals except the ants and bees.

From the original social group another and closer community seems gradually to have developed, the group of kindred. This was a natural outgrowth from the family, whose bond of affection was extended to include more distant relatives, until there emerged the organized group of kindred known as the "Village Community," which seems everywhere to have preceded civilization. This bond of kindred gradually extended, combining men into larger and larger groups, until the clan, the horde, and the tribe emerged, their members all linked together by the reality or the fiction of common descent. Such was the form of organization that existed in Greece and Rome in their early days, and made its influence felt far down into their later history. It existed indeed, at some period, over almost all the earth.

As the group widened, the bond of sympathy weakened. Love in the family found its counterpart in fellow-feeling in the tribe, in patriotism in the nation. It is undoubtedly true that desire for personal protection is one of the strong influences which bind men into societies. The hope of advantage in other directions and the pleasure of social intercourse are other combining forces. Yet below these rational elements has always abided the emotional element, the sympathetic attraction which binds kindred closely together, and which exerts some degree of influence on all members of the same group or nation.

The development of the ethical principle in mankind is largely due to the extension of the sentiment of social sympathy. For ages it was confined to the immediate group. Such was the case even in civilized Greece, intellectually one of the most advanced of peoples, but morally very contracted. The Greeks were long divided into minor groups, with the warmest sentiment of patriotism uniting the members of each community, while their common origin bound all the h.e.l.lenes together.

But this feeling failed to cross the borders of the narrow peninsula of Greece, all peoples beyond these borders being viewed as barbarians, in whose pleasures and pains no interest was felt, and whose misfortunes produced no stir of sympathy in the Grecian heart. Even Aristotle taught that Greeks owed no more duties to barbarians than to wild beasts, and a philosopher who declared that his affection extended to the whole people of Greece was thought to be remarkably sympathetic.

The Romans were equally narrow in their early days, and not until the empire extended to the outer borders of the civilized world did this narrowness give way to a more expanded sympathy. The brotherhood of mankind, indeed, was taught by Socrates, Cicero, and others of the ancient moral philosophers, yet these seeds of philosophy fell in very sterile soil and took root with discouraging slowness. Philosophers elsewhere taught the dogma of universal love,--Confucius among the Chinese, Gautama among the Hindoos,--but their teachings have borne little fruit in the great, stagnant peoples of Asia, in whom the narrowness of semicivilization prevails.

The teachings of Christ, whose code of morality was the intuitive one, "Love one another," have been far more effective. Christianity became the religion of Europe, since then the most progressive part of the world, and with every step of progress in civilization the Christ doctrine of charity and sympathy reached a higher and broader stage.

To-day it has attained, in Europe and America, a wide degree of development, and the vast extension of human intercourse through the mediums of travel, commerce, and telegraphic communication is, for the first time in human history, beginning to lift the doctrine of the universal brotherhood of man from the plane of a philosophic dogma toward that of an established fact. The range of sympathy is narrow yet, selfishness predominates, the truly altruistic are the few, the feebly sympathetic and coldly selfish are the many; yet it must be admitted that there has been a great development of altruism during the nineteenth century, and the promise of the coming of Christ's kingdom on the earth is greater to-day than at any former period in the history of mankind.

The love principle is the innate moral element of the universe. Its rudimentary form is the attraction between atoms, which expands into the attraction between spheres. We see a development of it in the magnetic and electric attractions, and a higher one in the s.e.xual attraction that exists in the lowest organisms. Its expansion continues until it reaches the high level of human love and social sympathy. But throughout its whole development consciousness takes no part in its origin. While conscious of its existence, we do not consciously call it into existence. Men and women "fall in love"; they do not reason themselves into affection. Those we love become in a measure a part of ourselves, we feel their sufferings and endure their afflictions, not through the nerves of the body, but through the finer ones of the mind,--a plexus of spiritual nerves which stretch unseen from soul to soul. So strong is this sympathetic affinity that Comte was induced to look upon mankind as an organism, and it gave rise in the mind of Leslie Stephens to the conception of a common "social tissue."

Love and law rule the universe. It is this second moral element, that of law, which we have next to consider. Inductive morality had its origin in experience; it a.s.sumed the form of social restriction, then of fixed law and precept, and culminated in the sense of duty--a conscientious avoidance of that which was thought to be wrong, and an earnest desire to do what was looked upon as right.

The history of this phase of morality differs essentially from that of the phase we have just considered. The sense of duty, the conscientious sentiment, so highly developed in man, seems largely non-existent in the lower animals, so far as observation has taught us. Yet it is not quite wanting, its rudiment is there, and this rudiment is capable of development. It may be, indeed, that a highly developed sense of duty exists in the ants and bees, to judge from their diligent labors for the benefit of the community. But the clearest examples of conscientious performance of duty are those seen in the case of the dog, in which animal intimate a.s.sociation with man has developed something strongly approaching a conscience. A dog needs only to be well treated to display a sense of dignity and a self-respect a.n.a.logous to these feelings in man. A sensitive resentment against injustice in high-caste and carefully nurtured dogs has often been observed; while shame for an act which the animal knows to be forbidden has been seen in a hundred instances. The sense of duty is occasionally very strongly developed.

Many striking examples of this are on record. A dog will often defend his master's property with the greatest devotion, letting no temptation draw him away from the path of duty.

An instance has been related to the writer in which an extraordinary display of this feeling was made. A gentleman, on coming home at night, found he had forgotten his key, and attempted to enter the house by the window of a room in which his dog was on duty as a night-watch. To his surprise and annoyance the animal would not permit him to enter, and attacked him every time he tried to climb in. The animal knew him well, responded to his attempts to fondle it, but the moment he made an attempt to enter the window it became hostile and seemed ready to spring upon him. In its small brain was the feeling that no one, master or stranger, had the right to enter that house at night by the window, and it was there to perform its duty without regard to persons. In the end, the gentleman was obliged to leave and seek shelter elsewhere.

The development of the sense of duty and the growth of moral restriction in primitive man were probably very slow, much more so than the evolution of intelligence. The social habit of man doubtless rendered necessary, at an early period, some restraints on the actions of individuals, and these in time gained the strength of unwritten law; but many of them were scarcely what we should call moral obligations.

Many such restrictions exist among savage tribes to-day, and to these we must turn for examples of their character. We, for instance, look upon theft and lying as immoral practices, but such is not the case with savages generally, most of whom will steal if the opportunity offers, while they will lie in so transparent and useless a manner as to indicate that they see nothing wrong in this practice. And yet the aborigines of India, many of whom are very immoral according to our standard, are often strongly averse to untruthfulness. "A true Gond,"

says Mr. Grant, "will commit a murder, but he will not tell a lie." It is well known that truthfulness was one of the chief virtues of the ancient Persians, a virtue that was accompanied by much which we would call immoral. The Hindoo devotee is exceedingly tender of the lives of animals, while he is often callous to human suffering. Disregard of human suffering, indeed, showed itself strongly through all the past ages, men being slaughtered with as little compunction as if they were so many wild beasts, while frightful tortures were inflicted with an extraordinary absence of humane feeling. And these excesses were committed by persons who in the ordinary affairs of life were frequently tender in feeling and conscientious in action.

In truth, moral development from this point of view has always shown a one-sidedness that goes far to discredit the doctrine of intuitive conceptions of right and wrong. The indications are strong that rules of conduct are not inherent in the human mind, that men become moral to the extent that they are taught the principles of justice, and grow one-sided in their ideas of virtue through incompleteness in their moral education. What we call sinfulness is largely a matter of custom and convention. Men cannot properly be said to sin when their actions are checked by no conscientious scruples, and what one people would consider atrocious instances of wrong-doing, might be looked upon as innocent and even estimable by a people with a different moral standard. Religion has much to do with this. The human sacrifices and cannibal feasts of the Aztec Indians, for instance, were regarded by them as good deeds, obligations which they owed to their G.o.ds. Yet this people had attained to some of the refined practices and moral ideas of civilization.

The leading principles of correct human conduct are few and simple. They were arrived at early in the history of human thought, and little has since been added to them. They arose as results of human experience, as necessary principles of restraint in developing communities, and were nearly all extant in prehistoric times as the unwritten laws of social organization. What creed-makers did was to put these ancient axioms of morality on record, and offer them to the world as codes of religious observance. They could not have been of primitive origin, since the most of them do not exist among the savage tribes still with us. There is nothing, indeed, to show that any idea of sinfulness exists in the minds of the lowest savages, the rules of conduct which they possess being such regulations as are necessary to the existence of the most undeveloped community.

Of the various codes of morals, much the best known to us is that given to the Israelites by Moses, the famous "Ten Commandments." The most of these--as of all such codes--were evidently legal in origin, rules necessary for the existence of a civilized society, restrictions controlling the conduct of men toward one another. It was the creed-makers who first gave such legal restrictions the strength of moral obligations, and announced that their infraction would be punished by divine agencies, even if they should escape human retribution.

Many hurtful acts, indeed, came to be viewed as crimes alike against G.o.d and man, and punishable in the interests of both. Political and moral obligations thus shaded together; some of the evils of the world being punished by human agencies alone, some by divine, some by both. It must be said, however, that throughout the whole progress of human civilization the influence of moral obligations has been rising, while the necessity for political laws has declined in like proportion. In ancient times the penalties for crimes against the community were terribly severe, while religion threatened those who offended the divine powers with frightful future punishments. The necessity for such severe restrictions has long been decreasing, and the more vividly it is felt that immoral deeds or debased thoughts and purposes will be visited by a spiritual retribution, the less necessity is there for laws and penalties. Thus the limitation of human actions by government is growing less necessary than of old, in conformity with the growing sense of spiritual degradation in evil and of spiritual elevation in good deeds.

Mild laws have succeeded the severe edicts of the past, and with a considerable section of the community restrictive laws have become useless, conscience taking the place of law. In such men the impulse to evil deeds dies unfulfilled, and the penalty for wrong-doing within themselves may be more severe than that which the community would inflict. In the souls of such men sits a spiritual tribunal by which evil thoughts are tried and punished before they can develop into evil acts.

This consideration of the development of the moral principles and dogmas has been necessarily brief. In what direction it is leading must be evident to all, and we can with a.s.surance look forward to a condition of human society in which conscience will have become a stronger element of the intellect than now, the sense of moral obligation a more prevailing sentiment, and legal restriction a less necessary governmental requirement.

Of all the isms of the day altruism is far the n.o.blest and most promising. In this opponent of selfism, this regard for the rights and happiness of others equally with our own, we find the link which binds together the two halves of the moral principle. The love sentiment on the one hand, the sense of duty on the other, meet and combine in the zeal of altruism, for which a truly developed conscience is merely another term. Those who have the good of others strongly at heart, who are truly Christian in a practical realization of the brotherhood of mankind, can safely be set free from all the reins of law, and trusted to do the right thing from innate feeling instead of outside compulsion.

And, trusting in the future full development of the altruistic sentiment, we can hopefully look forward to a time in which the moral law will exist alone, conscience become the controlling force in human actions, and government let fall the whip which it has so long held in threat over the shrinking back of man.

XIII

MAN'S RELATION TO THE SPIRITUAL

The purpose of this work has been to trace the evolutionary origin of man, in his ascent from the lower animal world to his full stature as the physical and intellectual monarch of the kingdom of life. But to round up the story of human evolution it seemed necessary to consider man from the moral standpoint, and it now appears equally desirable to review his relations to the spiritual element of the universe. Having dealt with the development of man as a mortal being, we have now to regard him as a possibly immortal being.

This outlook into the supreme domain of nature lifts us, for the first time in our work, definitely above the lower world of life. There is nothing to show that the animals below man have any conception of the spiritual. It is true that there are various statements on record which seem to indicate in some animals, the horse and the dog, for instance, a dread of unseen powers, a recognition of some element in nature which is invisible to the eyes of man. But what these facts indicate, what influences affect the rudimentary intellect of these animals in such instances, no one is able to say. Though some vague recognition of powers or existences beyond the visible may arise in their narrow minds, it does not probably pa.s.s beyond the level of instinct, and doubtless lies almost infinitely below man's conception of the spiritual. In this stage of intellectual development, then, we have to do with a condition which seems to belong solely to man, or has but a germinal existence in the lower organic kingdom.

In fact, primitive man may well have been as devoid of the conception of a realm of spirit as was his anthropoid ancestor. The lowest savages of to-day are almost, if not quite, lacking in such a conception, and are dest.i.tute of anything that can fairly be called religion. Where apparent religious ideas exist among them we cannot be sure to what extent they have been infused by civilized visitors, or how far ardent missionaries, in their anxiety to discover some trace of religion in savages, have themselves inadvertently suggested the beliefs which they triumphantly record. The Pygmies of Africa, the Negritos of Oceanica, and various debased tribes elsewhere, may possibly be quite dest.i.tute of native religious conceptions, at least of a higher grade than those which move the horse and dog to a dread of the unseen. It should be borne in mind that these tribes have for thousands of years been in some degree of contact with more developed races and subject to educative influences, and the crude religious conceptions which some travellers attribute to them may well have been derived, not original.

Investigation in this field certainly gives us abundant warrant to believe that primitive man, on whose mind no influences of education could act, was dest.i.tute of religion, and that man's conception of the unseen arose gradually, as one important phase of the development of his intellect. Any attempt to trace the stages of this religious development is far beyond our purpose, even if we were capable of doing it. It must suffice to say that man everywhere, when he emerges into history as a semicivilized being, is abundantly supplied with mythological and other religious conceptions which indicate a long preceding evolution in this field of thought.

For extended ages the realm of the unseen has been acting upon the mind of man; filling him with dread of malevolent and reverence for beneficent powers, inspiring him to acts of wors.h.i.+p, peopling his imagined heavens with imagined deities, and giving rise to an extraordinary variety of deific tales and mythological ideas. The literature of this subject would fill a library in itself, and is almost abundant enough to supply one with reading for a lifetime. Yet it is largely, if not wholly, ideal; it is in great part based on false conceptions and misdirected imaginings; it rarely adduces evidence, and such evidence as is offered is always questionable; in short, scientific investigation and the critical pursuit of facts have taken no part in the development of religious systems, and a deep cloud of doubt envelops them all.

It is by no means our purpose to seek to throw discredit on any of the great religions of the world. To say that they have been products of evolution is not to invalidate them. Much that is true and solid has arisen through evolution. To say that they lack scientific evidence is not to question their validity. Many of the subjects with which they deal lie beyond the reach of scientific evidence. Science has. .h.i.therto dealt strictly with the physical; it has made almost no effort to test the claims of the spiritual. In fact, the highest of these claims, that of the existence of a deity, must lie forever beyond its reach. G.o.d may exist, and science grope for Him through eternity in vain. Finite facts can never gauge the infinite. Proofs and disproofs alike have been offered of the existence of an infinite deity, but the problem remains unsolved. None of these proofs or disproofs are positive; they all depend on ideal conceptions, and ideas are always open to question; positive facts on either side of the argument are, and are always likely to be, wanting, and the belief in G.o.d must be based on other than scientific grounds.