The use or non-use of tools creates a great gulf between man and the brutes. The most intelligent animal, a monkey of a high order, never uses a tool—even the most primitive—to accomplish his will; no one can ascribe to the animal creative actions, that is, it does not fashion an implement that it may attain another end; it has never been known to carry an object from one spot to another that it might act as a ladder to bring the animal nearer to the fruit it desired to reach.
But this concession, I think, we may make to Darwin; that even in the sphere of mental activities we can never entirely separate ourselves from the brute creation. We experience in ourselves a certain condition of mind, where fancies alternate with passing agitation; these proceed from intense, but confused emotions. This condition does not allow of clear explanation even to ourselves, since it has nothing in common with true thought, which is inseparable from the consciousness of objects, and therefore is lacking in words with which to express itself. To Mendelssohn this mental condition was perfectly known, and he says, “It is exactly at that moment when language is impotent to express the experiences of the soul, that the sphere of music opens to us; if all that passes in us were capable of being expressed in words, I should write no more music.”
A flock of birds about to migrate, all follow an unanimous impulse in uttering at starting a few high clear notes, perhaps impelled by an unknown motive, their inclinations and wills find collective expression therein, by a mutual impulse which comes from soundless depths of the life of the senses, carrying all before it. This universal sympathy, however difficult to explain, is one of the noblest possessions of the inferior animals; even the aptitude they display for certain mechanical acts of labour does not stand on the same level; but in the vocal manifestations of birds there is no indication of true thought, the basis of real language.
Now come, my dog, for a tête-à-tête. It would be impossible to hold converse with ants, bees, monkeys, moles, or birds, as I should not acknowledge them as my compeers, I should not admit them as intimates; but you I know well; and, let me tell you, your judges have shown their impartiality towards you; none of the vices which degrade us—your superiors—have been laid to your account. You are called neither gourmand, thief, idler, nor hypocrite; but you lack the qualities that might have been yours had you possessed the faculty of combination. They say that you create nothing because you fail to see what purpose tools may serve; and you are ignorant of the fact that A. being given, B. must follow—such is combination. Still, on looking closely, it is possible to discover amongst us—your superiors—those who are stupid—or awkward—who take small advantage of all the means put within their reach to recede from a false position, to recover from the effects of a wrong step, or, what is still more important, remedy their ignorance. Yes, there are many such, and these also lack the faculty of combination.
Your judges also assert that from the want on your part of being able to attach one idea to another, you do not think of your master when he is absent from you. What ingratitude! But I wonder whether those friends, who profess so much pleasure in my company, think of me when I am absent; perhaps no more than you do.
Let me continue my enquiries for a few minutes. We will suppose that we two are in my study. I am occupied with a book, and am not thinking of you at all. You are stretched at my feet with your nose between your paws, watching a fly near you. I make a sudden movement, you look at me, and at the same moment wag your tail.... Am I to suppose that you wag it to hide your dislike to me? The noble quality which I and all your superiors possess is lacking in you; you have no speech for thought in which to tell me your love for me; but if you could speak, that is, were like one of ourselves, would you be as truthful as you are now, being only a dog that has nothing but his tail with which to make his master understand his feelings towards him? Schopenhauer ... but you know nothing of Schopenhauer, if you could speak I should teach you to read, and then you would know him. Schopenhauer is a great and learned philosopher, who says, “How much this movement of the tail surpasses in sincerity many other assurances of friendship and devotion.”[37]
This is a long digression on Darwin’s idea that man and animals lead parallel lives, but that the one progresses quickly, the other slowly. I think I have shown that it is not a question of rapidity or tardiness of progress, but rather whether both travellers are equally well equipped with the means of passing the Rubicon.
CHAPTER V
PRIMITIVE HUMANITY
Some courage is required to attack the subject of comparative philology as treated by certain learned authors; they are bold enough to seek to transport themselves to an age of such remote antiquity that history is silent on the subject, but in which a nascent humanity endeavoured to find expression for its sensations in a language which probably had no name.