Chapter XXI: Calumny (4)

But we go further. The Catholic Church teaches that the human race is descended from one common pair—Adam and Eve. From them the whole human race was propagated. Darwin, too, teaches the unity of mankind. But his is quite a different unity. Not only do all men descend from a common human parent, according to him, but both animals and men have a common parent; so that originally there existed one animal, from which all the rest, men included, derive their origin.

Now, we should naturally expect that so grave an inference would be based upon a no less weighty proof. But herein we are sadly mistaken. His whole argument rests upon a resemblance of some external actions common to mankind: “I have endeavored to show in considerable detail that all the chief expressions in man are the same throughout the world. This fact is interesting, as it affords a new argument in favor of the several races being descended from a single parent stock, which must have been almost completely human in structure, and to a large extent in mind, before the period at which races diverged from each other” (p. 361).

This argument may do very well to confirm the doctrine of the church; but we do not see how it will establish the ape theory, any more than it would to infer that the sun and moon are alike because they both shine. It is really amusing to hear our author so innocently say: “We may confidently believe that laughter, as a sign of pleasure or enjoyment, was practised by our progenitors long before they deserved to be called human” (p. 362).

From all this it is at least evident that our poor progenitors had to undergo a long novitiate to become invested with the habits proper to man. Theirs, indeed, must have been a tedious process before attaining human activity. One thing, however, he forgets to tell us. It is the period when such a change of the species occurred. Theory may sound very well; but we know of no fact of the kind. How is it that, as long as the world can remember, no monkey ever became a man, or a tree a pig? We cannot exactly agree with Darwin, therefore, when he calls the “anthropomorphous apes our nearest allies and our early progenitors” (p. 363). We are quite aware of the answer he gives to this objection in his book, on _The Origin of Species_. But it may well be compared to the method of those romance writers who take good care to place the scene of the heroic exploits of their heroes in far distant lands as yet unknown and unexplored. Thus they may write volume after volume, without any danger of being convicted of telling stories and building castles in the air. So Darwin. In his _Origin of Species_, he pretends that the change from one species to another is so long and gradual that it may comprise even millions of years. As a conjecture, this may pass; but as an argument in support of a most elaborate system, we fail to see its efficacy.

We will now pass to another argument. Speaking of frowning as shading the eyes, he says: “It seems probable that this shading action would not have become habitual until man had assumed a completely upright position; for monkeys do not frown when exposed to a glaring light” (p. 363). This phrase can be made plainer when paraphrased as follows: It is a theory, established by me beyond any doubt, that man is the offspring of the monkey. Now, the monkey does not frown or shade his eyes, even when exposed to the most glaring light of the sun. Hence, it follows that frowning is an action peculiarly adapted only to an upright position. And hence, too, no wonder that the orang did not make use of it as long as he was walking on all fours and bent downwards. Hence, we must infer that frowning became a habit, then, only when the ape, thinking that he had walked long enough on all fours, and that he might, without any particular inconvenience to himself, dispense with two feet, stood upright, and became a man. This is the meaning of his words. On the same principle the following conjecture is based: “Our early progenitors, when indignant, would not hold their heads erect until they had acquired the ordinary carriage and upright attitude of man” (p. 363). Its sense is: As our first parents were brutes, and as we find that in no instance they held their heads erect when angry or indignant, it follows, of course, that this action was acquired only after they made use of their hind feet to walk, and when the fore paws became hands.

Blushing is considered by Darwin an expression that requires attention to one’s personal defects. Now, as it has not been observed in any monkey or other animal, he of course infers that it became habitual only when, having emerged from the monkey phase of existence, we became semi-human.

“But it does not seem possible”—these are his words—“that any animal, until its mental powers had been developed to an equal or nearly equal degree with those of man, would have closely considered and been sensitive about its own personal appearance” (p. 364).

Thus far we perfectly agree with him. Blushing is an act predicable only of an intelligent being. Hence, it is quite logical to say that animals could not possess it, unless almost as perfect as man. But we by no means so readily coincide with his conclusion, namely: “Therefore, we may conclude that blushing originated at a very late period in the long line of our descent” (p. 364).

If this were true, it would likewise follow that man ought to become more prone to blushing as he advances in years. This, however, it will be confessed, is not the case. Quite the reverse frequently happens. Youth and innocence blush, while age and vice grow daily more barefaced and unblushing. Now, if blushing were a mere habit acquired and developed by physical evolution, how does it come to pass that full-grown men who are given to immorality lose that blush which rose to their cheeks when young and innocent? Daily experience only too well tells the tale how the maiden blush becomes dimmer and fades entirely when the career of sin and shame has been once entered upon. Where, then, is the philosophy of Darwin’s principle?

It is quite true, he tells us, that “we cannot cause a blush by any physical means. It is the mind which must be affected” (p. 310); “that the causes of blushing are shyness, shame, and modesty; the essential element in all being self-attention” (p. 326). Again, he continues: “Many reasons can be assigned [as causes of blushing] for believing that originally self-attention directed to personal appearance in relation to the opinion of others was the exciting cause. Moral causes are only secondary; the same effect being subsequently produced through the force of association by self-attention in relation to moral conduct” (p. 326).

This shows that, with Darwin, morality is a mere matter of etiquette. “But modesty,” he continues, “frequently relates to acts of indelicacy; and indelicacy is an affair of etiquette, as we clearly see with the nations that go altogether or nearly naked. He who is modest, and blushes easily at acts of this nature, does so because they are breaches of a firmly and wisely established etiquette” (p. 335).

From this, then, it is clear that morality, chastity, and every species of virtue are nothing more than the external code of regulations which society has agreed upon in its social intercourse. In other words, all virtue and morality consist in what we call good breeding. We blush, not because we break the law of God, but because we violate the precept of man. Darwin’s ten commandments, we think, might well be summed up as follows: First commandment: Society is the Lord God of man; thou shalt adore it alone, by minutely observing all its external regulations, called etiquette. 2d. Thou shalt not take its name in vain by saying that man and society can commit any wrong, or be anything but perfect. 3d. Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath; that is, go to church on Sunday, because others do so, and etiquette demands it. 4th. Honor thy father and thy mother, because it is customary to do so. 5th. Thou shalt not be so common a criminal as to kill a man by direct physical means; but remember that thou must hold every man to be a rogue and a knave until he proves the contrary. Thou mayest even, especially when thou art a congressman, take an oath, without being particular as to the truth of thy statement. 6th and 9th. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Now, as marriage is merely an ordinary contract, that can of course be dissolved when the parties mutually agree, go to court, obtain a divorce, and thou canst marry the wife of another. As to thoughts against the sixth commandment, thou must not trouble thy head too much about them. They are nature’s legitimate ebullitions. 7th. Thou shalt not steal in open daylight, but get as much as thou canst without being detected. This would constitute the moral code of Darwin. If morality is reduced to etiquette, it is evident that its obligation is merely external.

Finally, we come to another point in the book on _The Expressions_, etc. It is a curious instance of our former propensities in a primeval state. At some time or other, we are told, we were possessed of long ears, and movable at that, such as we see in the mule and dog. The elephant, also, would afford a pretty good specimen, its ears being long and quite flexible.

But let us hear him: “If our ears had remained movable, their movements would have been highly expressive, as is the case with all the animals which fight with their teeth; and we may infer that our early progenitors thus fought” (p. 365). Well, we do not by any means doubt that these movables would be highly expressive in man. Just imagine, for instance, Mr. Darwin going through the streets of New York with a pair of long ears, moving and flapping to his heart’s content! Why, the New York papers would hail it as a godsend, and the urchins on Broadway would go in ecstasies over it.

Our interesting author winds up his somewhat lengthy dissertations with the inference that his reasonings on the “expression of emotions” afford another confirmatory proof of his theory that man is the offspring of the monkey. His two volumes on the _Descent of Man_ were intended as the corner-stone of his building. This later work was to finish it. The great pity is that he is building a castle in the air. He gives no proof. Similarities in man and animals may afford ground for suppositions, but can never cause conviction.

“We have seen,” he says, “that the study of the theory of ‘expression’ confirms, to a certain limited extent, the conclusion that man is derived from some lower animal form, and supports the belief of the specific or sub-specific unity of the several races” (p. 367).

We are now done with Darwin. In perusing the volume, we confess it was not without a feeling of deep sadness at so much blindness combined with no ordinary degree of learning and research. Darwin is a student of no mean class. His research shows that no pains were spared. His numerous examples demonstrate that he is perfectly at home in natural sciences. Mixed up with error, there is in his book a great deal both interesting and highly instructive. His conclusions might perhaps be correct if there existed no God, no revelation, and no eternity. He is a striking example of men who set aside the revealed Word of God, and take reason as their sole guide and standard in the search after wisdom.

It may not be amiss to subjoin a few general principles that will refute even more fully the sophisms of the author.

We lay it down as a certain proposition that sensation is essentially distinct from intelligence. Sensation is defined: “A certain impression present to the mind, caused by an external agent on an animated body.”[176]

This external impression is received by five sensible organs, viz.: touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight. These are evidently material organs, having size, weight, figure, extension, distance, number, motion, and rest. The same is the case with the object causing the impressions.

Now, is there any specific difference between sensation and intelligence? Is the understanding of man entirely different from the sensation of the brute? Or is it merely a development of the latter? If we believe Darwin, there is no real difference, except that the one is more perfect than the other. In the monkey, there exists the same faculty of intelligence as in man. In the former, however, it is in its incipient stage; in the latter, it is matured and developed. Can such a theory be reconciled with philosophy? We believe not. In fact, the difference between sensation and intelligence can be given as follows: 1. Sensations are external impressions which are not produced by the mind, but merely received; hence they are passive; whilst the understanding of man is essentially the actor, and not merely the recipient. 2. Again, “Sensations are particular facts which never leave their own sphere.”[177] Intelligence forms ideas that are universal and absolute, being applicable to all individuals.

Moreover, sensation does not distinguish one object from the other, neither does it compare them. The illustrious Spaniard whom we have already quoted illustrates this by saying: “The sensation of the pink is only that of the pink, and that of the rose only that of the rose. The instant you attempt to compare them you suppose in the mind an act by which it perceives the difference; and, if you attribute to it anything more than pure sensation, you add a faculty distinct from sensation, namely, that of comparing sensations, and appreciating their similarities and differences.”[178]

This, indeed, is evident. Sensation is simply the external impression received. As such, it is an isolated act. It does not compare or judge.

The idea, for instance, of the triangle is one, and is common to all triangles of every size and kind; the representation or sensation is multiple, and varies in size and kind.

Again, the idea or thought of the mind is fixed and necessary; the representation changeable.

The idea, _e.g._, of the triangle is “the same to the man born blind, and to him who has sight; and the proof of this is that both, in their arguments and geometrical uses, develop it in the same manner.”[179]

From what has been thus far said, it is evident that there exists a dividing line between the intellect and sensation; that the one is in no sense contained in the other, and cannot by any process be derived from it. Darwin is a mere sensist. He understands little of the nature and faculties of the human soul. He ignores any essential distinction between the intellect and sensation.

There is, indeed, it may be observed, a close connection between the two. Sensation is the condition of the exercise of the intellect while we are in this life. It supplies food for the intelligence. It always precedes and accompanies the intellectual act. Thus, when we think of God’s mercy, we easily imagine God as a kind father, etc.

But such is the case only in human intelligence. We have a spirit in a material and sensible body. Our intellect, by its substantial union with the body, is bound to adapt its exercises to the conditions imposed by this union. But unless we deny all revelation, we must admit the existence of celestial spirits who are not possessed of and encumbered by any body. These, then, need no visible organs, no external sensation, no sensible representation, to arouse and excite their intellect to action. Hence, it follows that the connection existing between sensation and intelligence is not essential.

We shall now examine some other acts of the intellect, to confirm what we have said. Judgment is one of the principal acts of the mind. It is defined: “The perception and affirmation of the identity or diversity of two ideas or propositions obtained by comparing them.”[180] Thus, in the proposition, “Man is mortal,” the mind compares the ideas man and “mortal,” and affirms their identity. The sensation, however, is an isolated impression on the mind, a single fact. Another feature of human actions is the purpose or end for which a thing is done. The dog may do things that have great similarity to human actions; but close observation will easily convince one that the brute does so in a uniform manner, and consequently is impelled by natural instinct. Man, however, sits down and deliberates. He proposes some object to be accomplished, and carefully selects the means best calculated to attain that end. He changes his means at will, according to the circumstances of the case. Does any animal, even be it Darwin’s darling monkey, do anything of the kind? Moreover, the end or purpose may be inherent in the act itself; thus, the sun gives heat and light. An end, however, may not arise essentially out of the nature of things, but may be freely intended; thus, man chooses different objects, while animals necessarily perform them. Again, man observes order in his actions. Order is defined: “A proper disposition of things, giving to each its place”;[181] or, “A composition, and arranging things according to their proper place.”[182] This arrangement may be made either in relation to the matter, or time, or the object. Now, do we ever behold animals displaying order in their actions? Has even Darwin ever seen a monkey arranging books in a library in such a manner as to place alongside each other those relating to one subject? We doubt it. We conclude this review by summing up, in Darwin’s words, the principles by which he contends that all our ideas are acquired. The first is the principle of serviceable associated habits. According to it, we gradually acquire all those habits, ideas, and expressions that conduce to our interest or gratification. The second is that of antithesis—that is, when something offered to our interest occurs, we adopt contrary actions and ideas. The third is styled by Darwin the principle of actions due to the constitution of the nervous system, independently, from the first, of the will, and independently, to a certain extent, of habit. This last principle is simply what is commonly called instinct. No one denies that it causes many actions pertaining to our welfare; but no man of sound mind will derive from it intelligence. The first and second principles can be reduced to that of utilitarianism. In plain language, it amounts to this: if all the actions, thoughts, and desires of man are regulated merely in accordance with each one’s private gratification, there would be no such thing as being concerned about the welfare of others. We finish by recalling the fundamental idea underlying this work. There are, Darwin tells us, striking similarities between the external expressions exhibited by man and the animal. These cannot be explained except on the supposition that the former descends by a long and slow process of generation from the latter. This is styled natural evolution.

There is, we admit, a germ of truth in the theory of evolution. The mistake is in applying it without limit. The Catholic Church teaches, 1. that the soul of man is immediately created by God. 2. That the human body also was created in like manner. This latter, however, is not so explicitly defined as the former. 3. It is a commonly received opinion of theologians that all the principal species of the animal were created directly by God. 4. That, however, imperfect species, such as hybrids and those generated by corruption, perspiration—_e.g._, fleas—were created only in germ, or _potentiali modo_.

From this, it is not difficult to see how far a Catholic may accept the theory of evolution. Scientists should not forget that reason is the handmaid of revelation.

GRAPES AND THORNS.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE “HOUSE OF YORKE.”