But we must not wonder at this. The drunkard sees things turning topsy-turvy, when in reality they stand still. One who wears green spectacles will behold objects in a green or pale color. We are apt to judge things according to preconceived ideas or a certain state of mind. So Mr. Darwin: his great hobby is to make man a monkey, and vice versa. Hence, he takes slight resemblances between the two as certain proof of his theory. Thus, he says: “With mankind, some expressions, such as the bristling of the hair under the influence of extreme terror, can hardly be understood except on the belief that man once existed in a much lower and animal-like condition. The community of certain expressions in distinct though allied species, as in the movements of the same facial muscles during laughter by man and by various monkeys, is rendered somewhat more intelligible if we believe in their common progenitor. He who admits on general principles that the structure and habits of all animals have been gradually evolved, will look at the whole subject of expressions in a new and interesting light.”[171]
This language is clear and unmistakable, though its meaning be artfully disguised. The logic of his conclusions, however, is not equally satisfactory. Why trace man’s origin to the monkey, because, forsooth, his hair bristles when angry? Or is it really so necessary to make man a brute because the same facial muscles move during laughter? We had always thought that these accidental resemblances were more than sufficiently explained by the simple fact that man, besides his immortal soul, is possessed of a body also, which, being material, is subject in many respects to the laws of other animals. We say, in fact, man is a rational animal. He is composed of matter and spirit. As regards his body, he is subject to the same laws as those which regulate animals.
Mr. Darwin has in his conclusions what is not contained in his premises, and hence he falls into a grave error in regard to the first principles of logic and sound reasoning. It is quite logical and perfectly true to say man has some exterior or bodily motions and expressions similar to those of other animals, and therefore that his bodily organs have some relation and similarity with those of the lower animals; nay, we may even infer the same essence to be common to the bodily organs of both. Thus much strict logic will allow. Thus much sound philosophy has always admitted. But then, we may ask, How far does this resemblance extend? Does it merely exist in the bodily organs, or does it perhaps show itself in all external actions, even those of the intellect and the will? Does it extend to all the essential elements in both, or is it merely accidental, relating simply to minor actions? The answer cannot be doubtful even to the most superficial observer. We ask, therefore, Is this resemblance of an essential, or rather an accidental, character? We can only admit that the latter is the case. There is, it is true, a manifold similarity; but after all, even where this is most striking, is there not a vast discrepancy? With the lower animal, all is routine—machine-like, habitual, ever the same under similar circumstances, nor can it combine means with the end. In man, these same external actions are regulated by the will, and can be omitted or done at pleasure.
Now, will Mr. Darwin say this is merely a trifle—that this, too, can be acquired by the brute after a long experience and a lapse of years? Reason and sound philosophy teach that the sensations of brutes are essentially distinct from, and in nowise contain, reason or intelligence. How, then, could reason be the product of evolution? How, then, can that be evolved which does not at all exist?
We repeat it: Darwin’s conclusion is similar to this: “A dog is a cat, because, forsooth, both sleep.” He finds in man and brutes some partial similarities in mere external actions, and straightway he concludes that they are both of the same essence and parentage. As well might he say burning lamps are emanations from the sun, because they, too, give light.
Instinct is almost entirely left out of account, and all expressions and external actions are attributed solely to habit and exercise repeated.[172] We by no means doubt that habit and exercise have a great deal to do with external actions. But can they all be accounted for in such a manner? When we ask, How do children, from the very first day of their birth, make use of their hands and feet, and employ their mouths in the proper way for imbibing nourishment? Mr. Darwin may answer: “This habit, too, was transmitted from parent to offspring, and indicates a long series of generations” (p. 39).
But we cannot very well see how this answer will satisfy even the most credulous reader. Habits may be to a certain extent transmitted by parents to their children; but generally it is, in an imperfect state, the “tendency” or inclination, rather than the act, that is transmitted. An intemperate parent may transmit to his offspring a “tendency” to that vice; but we have not yet heard of a born drunkard.
Moreover, is this principle applicable in a general manner even in regard to merely accidental habits? Experience tells us quite the contrary.
Weak-minded parents often give birth to most gifted children. On the contrary, many most cultivated and intelligent parents have children who are dull and slow of understanding.
But even granting that habits may be transmitted from parent to offspring, we ask, What is the nature of such habits? Are they essential elements of nature, or merely minor and trifling motions? Mr. Darwin’s own example on the point will confirm our assertion that they are of the latter sort: “A gentleman of considerable position was found by his wife to have the curious trick, when he lay fast asleep on his back in bed, of raising his right arm slowly in front of his face up to his forehead, and then dropping it with a jerk, so that the wrist fell heavily on the bridge of his nose. The trick did not occur every night, but occasionally, and was independent of any ascertained cause. Sometimes it was repeated incessantly for an hour or more. The gentleman’s nose was prominent, and its bridge often became sore from the blows which it received” (p. 34). His son, too, inherited this trick. The only difference, however, consisted in the son’s nose not being quite so prominent, and therefore less exposed to the tricky and mysterious blows.