The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex Volume I Part 3

_Sociability._-Animals of many kinds are social; we find even distinct species living together, as with some American monkeys, and with the united flocks of rooks, jackdaws, and starlings. Man shows the same feeling in his strong love for the dog, which the dog returns with interest. Every one must have noticed how miserable horses, dogs, sheep, &c. are when separated from their companions; and what affection at least the two former kinds show on their reunion. It is curious to speculate on the feelings of a dog, who will rest peacefully for hours in a room with his master or any of the family, without the least notice being taken of him; but if left for a short time by himself, barks or howls dismally. We will confine our attention to the higher social animals, excluding insects, although these aid each other in many important ways. The most common service which the higher animals perform for each other, is the warning each other of danger by means of the united senses of all. Every sportsman knows, as Dr. Jaeger remarks,[106]

how difficult it is to approach animals in a herd or troop. Wild horses and cattle do not, I believe, make any danger-signal; but the att.i.tude of any one who first discovers an enemy, warns the others. Rabbits stamp loudly on the ground with their hind-feet as a signal: sheep and chamois do the same, but with their fore-feet, uttering likewise a whistle. Many birds and some mammals post sentinels, which in the case of seals are said[107] generally to be the females. The leader of a troop of monkeys acts as the sentinel, and utters cries expressive both of danger and of safety.[108] Social animals perform many little services for each other: horses nibble, and cows lick each other, on any spot which itches: monkeys search for each other's external parasites; and Brehm states that after a troop of the _Cercopithecus griseo-viridis_ has rushed through a th.o.r.n.y brake, each monkey stretches itself on a branch, and another monkey sitting by "conscientiously" examines its fur and extracts every thorn or burr.

Animals also render more important services to each other: thus wolves and some other beasts of prey hunt in packs, and aid each other in attacking their victims. Pelicans fish in concert. The Hamadryas baboons turn over stones to find insects, &c.; and when they come to a large one, as many as can stand round, turn it over together and share the booty. Social animals mutually defend each other. The males of some ruminants come to the front when there is danger and defend the herd with their horns. I shall also in a future chapter give cases of two young wild bulls attacking an old one in concert, and of two stallions together trying to drive away a third stallion from a troop of mares.

Brehm encountered in Abyssinia a great troop of baboons which were crossing a valley: some had already ascended the opposite mountain, and some were still in the valley: the latter were attacked by the dogs, but the old males immediately hurried down from the rocks, and with mouths widely opened roared so fearfully, that the dogs precipitately retreated. They were again encouraged to the attack; but by this time all the baboons had reascended the heights, excepting a young one, about six months old, who, loudly calling for aid, climbed on a block of rock and was surrounded. Now one of the largest males, a true hero, came down again from the mountain, slowly went to the young one, coaxed him, and triumphantly led him away-the dogs being too much astonished to make an attack. I cannot resist giving another scene which was witnessed by this same naturalist; an eagle seized a young Cercopithecus, which, by clinging to a branch, was not at once carried off; it cried loudly for a.s.sistance, upon which the other members of the troop with much uproar rushed to the rescue, surrounded the eagle, and pulled out so many feathers, that he no longer thought of his prey, but only how to escape.

This eagle, as Brehm remarks, a.s.suredly would never again attack a monkey in a troop.

It is certain that a.s.sociated animals have a feeling of love for each other which is not felt by adult and non-social animals. How far in most cases they actually sympathise with each other's pains and pleasures is more doubtful, especially with respect to the latter. Mr. Buxton, however, who had excellent means of observation,[109] states that his macaws, which lived free in Norfolk, took "an extravagant interest" in a pair with a nest, and whenever the female left it, she was surrounded by a troop "screaming horrible acclamations in her honour." It is often difficult to judge whether animals have any feeling for each other's sufferings. Who can say what cows feel, when they surround and stare intently on a dying or dead companion? That animals sometimes are far from feeling any sympathy is too certain; for they will expel a wounded animal from the herd, or gore or worry it to death. This is almost the blackest fact in natural history, unless indeed the explanation which has been suggested is true, that their instinct or reason leads them to expel an injured companion, lest beasts of prey, including man, should be tempted to follow the troop. In this case their conduct is not much worse than that of the North American Indians who leave their feeble comrades to perish on the plains, or the Feegeans, who, when their parents get old or fall ill, bury them alive.[110]

Many animals, however, certainly sympathise with each other's distress or danger. This is the case even with birds; Capt. Stansbury[111] found on a salt lake in Utah an old and completely blind pelican, which was very fat, and must have been long and well fed by his companions. Mr.

Blyth, as he informs me, saw Indian crows feeding two or three of their companions which were blind; and I have heard of an a.n.a.logous case with the domestic c.o.c.k. We may, if we choose, call these actions instinctive; but such cases are much too rare for the development of any special instinct.[112] I have myself seen a dog, who never pa.s.sed a great friend of his, a cat which lay sick in a basket, without giving her a few licks with his tongue, the surest sign of kind feeling in a dog.

It must be called sympathy that leads a courageous dog to fly at any one who strikes his master, as he certainly will. I saw a person pretending to beat a lady who had a very timid little dog on her lap, and the trial had never before been made. The little creature instantly jumped away, but after the pretended beating was over, it was really pathetic to see how perseveringly he tried to lick his mistress's face and comfort her.

Brehm[113] states that when a baboon in confinement was pursued to be punished, the others tried to protect him. It must have been sympathy in the cases above given which led the baboons and Cercopitheci to defend their young comrades from the dogs and the eagle. I will give only one other instance of sympathetic and heroic conduct in a little American monkey. Several years ago a keeper at the Zoological Gardens, showed me some deep and scarcely healed wounds on the nape of his neck, inflicted on him whilst kneeling on the floor by a fierce baboon. The little American monkey, who was a warm friend of this keeper, lived in the same large compartment, and was dreadfully afraid of the great baboon.

Nevertheless, as soon as he saw his friend the keeper in peril, he rushed to the rescue, and by screams and bites so distracted the baboon that the man was able to escape, after running great risk, as the surgeon who attended him thought, of his life.

Besides love and sympathy, animals exhibit other qualities which in us would be called moral; and I agree with Aga.s.siz[114] that dogs possess something very like a conscience. They certainly possess some power of self-command, and this does not appear to be wholly the result of fear.

As Braubach[115] remarks, a dog will refrain from stealing food in the absence of his master. Dogs have long been accepted as the very type of fidelity and obedience. All animals living in a body which defend each other or attack their enemies in concert, must be in some degree faithful to each other; and those that follow a leader must be in some degree obedient. When the baboons in Abyssinia[116] plunder a garden, they silently follow their leader; and if an imprudent young animal makes a noise, he receives a slap from the others to teach him silence and obedience; but as soon as they are sure that there is no danger, all show their joy by much clamour.

With respect to the impulse which leads certain animals to a.s.sociate together, and to aid each other in many ways, we may infer that in most cases they are impelled by the same sense of satisfaction or pleasure which they experience in performing other instinctive actions; or by the same sense of dissatisfaction, as in other cases of prevented instinctive actions. We see this in innumerable instances, and it is ill.u.s.trated in a striking manner by the acquired instincts of our domesticated animals; thus a young shepherd-dog delights in driving and running round a flock of sheep, but not in worrying them; a young foxhound delights in hunting a fox, whilst some other kinds of dogs as I have witnessed, utterly disregard foxes. What a strong feeling of inward satisfaction must impel a bird, so full of activity, to brood day after day over her eggs. Migratory birds are miserable if prevented from migrating, and perhaps they enjoy starting on their long flight. Some few instincts are determined solely by painful feelings, as by fear, which leads to self-preservation, or is specially directed against certain enemies. No one, I presume, can a.n.a.lyse the sensations of pleasure or pain. In many cases, however, it is probable that instincts are persistently followed from the mere force of inheritance, without the stimulus of either pleasure or pain. A young pointer, when it first scents game, apparently cannot help pointing. A squirrel in a cage who pats the nuts which it cannot eat, as if to bury them in the ground, can hardly be thought to act thus either from pleasure or pain. Hence the common a.s.sumption that men must be impelled to every action by experiencing some pleasure or pain may be erroneous. Although a habit may be blindly and implicitly followed, independently of any pleasure or pain felt at the moment, yet if it be forcibly and abruptly checked, a vague sense of dissatisfaction is generally experienced; and this is especially true in regard to persons of feeble intellect.

It has often been a.s.sumed that animals were in the first place rendered social, and that they feel as a consequence uncomfortable when separated from each other, and comfortable whilst together; but it is a more probable view that these sensations were first developed, in order that those animals which would profit by living in society, should be induced to live together. In the same manner as the sense of hunger and the pleasure of eating were, no doubt, first acquired in order to induce animals to eat. The feeling of pleasure from society is probably an extension of the parental or filial affections; and this extension may be in chief part attributed to natural selection, but perhaps in part to mere habit. For with those animals which were benefited by living in close a.s.sociation, the individuals which took the greatest pleasure in society would best escape various dangers; whilst those that cared least for their comrades and lived solitary would perish in greater numbers.

With respect to the origin of the parental and filial affections, which apparently lie at the basis of the social affections, it is hopeless to speculate; but we may infer that they have been to a large extent gained through natural selection. So it has almost certainly been with the unusual and opposite feeling of hatred between the nearest relations, as with the worker-bees which kill their brother-drones, and with the queen-bees which kill their daughter-queens; the desire to destroy, instead of loving, their nearest relations having been here of service to the community.

The all-important emotion of sympathy is distinct from that of love. A mother may pa.s.sionately love her sleeping and pa.s.sive infant, but she can then hardly be said to feel sympathy for it. The love of a man for his dog is distinct from sympathy, and so is that of a dog for his master. Adam Smith formerly argued, as has Mr. Bain recently, that the basis of sympathy lies in our strong retentiveness of former states of pain or pleasure. Hence, "the sight of another person enduring hunger, cold, fatigue, revives in us some recollection of these states, which are painful even in idea." We are thus impelled to relieve the sufferings of another, in order that our own painful feelings may be at the same time relieved. In like manner we are led to partic.i.p.ate in the pleasures of others.[117] But I cannot see how this view explains the fact that sympathy is excited in an immeasurably stronger degree by a beloved than by an indifferent person. The mere sight of suffering, independently of love, would suffice to call up in us vivid recollections and a.s.sociations. Sympathy may at first have originated in the manner above suggested; but it seems now to have become an instinct, which is especially directed towards beloved objects, in the same manner as fear with animals is especially directed against certain enemies. As sympathy is thus directed, the mutual love of the members of the same community will extend its limits. No doubt a tiger or lion feels sympathy for the sufferings of its own young, but not for any other animal. With strictly social animals the feeling will be more or less extended to all the a.s.sociated members, as we know to be the case. With mankind selfishness, experience, and imitation probably add, as Mr. Bain has shewn, to the power of sympathy; for we are led by the hope of receiving good in return to perform acts of sympathetic kindness to others; and there can be no doubt that the feeling of sympathy is much strengthened by habit. In however complex a manner this feeling may have originated, as it is one of high importance to all those animals which aid and defend each other, it will have been increased, through natural selection; for those communities, which included the greatest number of the most sympathetic members, would flourish best and rear the greatest number of offspring.

In many cases it is impossible to decide whether certain social instincts have been acquired through natural selection, or are the indirect result of other instincts and faculties, such as sympathy, reason, experience, and a tendency to imitation; or again, whether they are simply the result of long-continued habit. So remarkable an instinct as the placing sentinels to warn the community of danger, can hardly have been the indirect result of any other faculty; it must therefore have been directly acquired. On the other hand, the habit followed by the males of some social animals, of defending the community and of attacking their enemies or their prey in concert, may perhaps have originated from mutual sympathy; but courage, and in most cases strength, must have been previously acquired, probably through natural selection.

Of the various instincts and habits, some are much stronger than others, that is, some either give more pleasure in their performance and more distress in their prevention than others; or, which is probably quite as important, they are more persistently followed through inheritance without exciting any special feeling of pleasure or pain. We are ourselves conscious that some habits are much more difficult to cure or change than others. Hence a struggle may often be observed in animals between different instincts, or between an instinct and some habitual disposition; as when a dog rushes after a hare, is rebuked, pauses, hesitates, pursues again or returns ashamed to his master; or as between the love of a female dog for her young puppies and for her master, for she may be seen to slink away to them, as if half ashamed of not accompanying her master. But the most curious instance known to me of one instinct conquering another, is the migratory instinct conquering the maternal instinct. The former is wonderfully strong; a confined bird will at the proper season beat her breast against the wires of her cage, until it is bare and b.l.o.o.d.y. It causes young salmon to leap out of the fresh water, where they could still continue to live, and thus unintentionally to commit suicide. Every one knows how strong the maternal instinct is, leading even timid birds to face great danger, though with hesitation and in opposition to the instinct of self-preservation. Nevertheless the migratory instinct is so powerful that late in the autumn swallows and house-martins frequently desert their tender young, leaving them to perish miserably in their nests.[118]

We can perceive that an instinctive impulse, if it be in any way more beneficial to a species than some other or opposed instinct, would be rendered the more potent of the two through natural selection; for the individuals which had it most strongly developed would survive in larger numbers. Whether this is the case with the migratory in comparison with the maternal instinct, may well be doubted. The great persistence or steady action of the former at certain seasons of the year during the whole day, may give it for a time paramount force.

_Man a social animal._-Most persons admit that man is a social being.

We see this in his dislike of solitude, and in his wish for society beyond that of his own family. Solitary confinement is one of the severest punishments which can be inflicted. Some authors suppose that man primevally lived in single families; but at the present day, though single families, or only two or three together, roam the solitudes of some savage lands, they are always, as far as I can discover, friendly with other families inhabiting the same district. Such families occasionally meet in council, and they unite for their common defence.

It is no argument against savage man being a social animal, that the tribes inhabiting adjacent districts are almost always at war with each other; for the social instincts never extend to all the individuals of the same species. Judging from the a.n.a.logy of the greater number of the Quadrumana, it is probable that the early ape-like progenitors of man were likewise social; but this is not of much importance for us.

Although man, as he now exists, has few special instincts, having lost any which his early progenitors may have possessed, this is no reason why he should not have retained from an extremely remote period some degree of instinctive love and sympathy for his fellows. We are indeed all conscious that we do possess such sympathetic feelings;[119] but our consciousness does not tell us whether they are instinctive, having originated long ago in the same manner as with the lower animals, or whether they have been acquired by each of us during our early years. As man is a social animal, it is also probable that he would inherit a tendency to be faithful to his comrades, for this quality is common to most social animals. He would in like manner possess some capacity for self-command, and perhaps of obedience to the leader of the community.

He would from an inherited tendency still be willing to defend, in concert with others, his fellow-men, and would be ready to aid them in any way which did not too greatly interfere with his own welfare or his own strong desires.

The social animals which stand at the bottom of the scale are guided almost exclusively, and those which stand higher in the scale are largely guided, in the aid which they give to the members of the same community, by special instincts; but they are likewise in part impelled by mutual love and sympathy, a.s.sisted apparently by some amount of reason. Although man, as just remarked, has no special instincts to tell him how to aid his fellow-men, he still has the impulse, and with his improved intellectual faculties would naturally be much guided in this respect by reason and experience. Instinctive sympathy would, also, cause him to value highly the approbation of his fellow-men; for, as Mr.

Bain has clearly shewn,[120] the love of praise and the strong feeling of glory, and the still stronger horror of scorn and infamy, "are due to the workings of sympathy." Consequently man would be greatly influenced by the wishes, approbation, and blame of his fellow-men, as expressed by their gestures and language. Thus the social instincts, which must have been acquired by man in a very rude state, and probably even by his early ape-like progenitors, still give the impulse to many of his best actions; but his actions are largely determined by the expressed wishes and judgment of his fellow-men, and unfortunately still oftener by his own strong, selfish desires. But as the feelings of love and sympathy and the power of self-command become strengthened by habit, and as the power of reasoning becomes clearer so that man can appreciate the justice of the judgments of his fellow-men, he will feel himself impelled, independently of any pleasure or pain felt at the moment, to certain lines of conduct. He may then say, I am the supreme judge of my own conduct, and in the words of Kant, I will not in my own person violate the dignity of humanity.

_The more enduring Social Instincts conquer the less Persistent Instincts._-We have, however, not as yet considered the main point, on which the whole question of the moral sense hinges. Why should a man feel that he ought to obey one instinctive desire rather than another?

Why does he bitterly regret if he has yielded to the strong sense of self-preservation, and has not risked his life to save that of a fellow-creature; or why does he regret having stolen food from severe hunger?

It is evident in the first place, that with mankind the instinctive impulses have different degrees of strength; a young and timid mother urged by the maternal instinct will, without a moment's hesitation, run the greatest danger for her infant, but not for a mere fellow-creature.

Many a man, or even boy, who never before risked his life for another, but in whom courage and sympathy were well developed, has, disregarding the instinct of self-preservation, instantaneously plunged into a torrent to save a drowning fellow-creature. In this case man is impelled by the same instinctive motive, which caused the heroic little American monkey, formerly described, to attack the great and dreaded baboon, to save his keeper. Such actions as the above appear to be the simple result of the greater strength of the social or maternal instincts than of any other instinct or motive; for they are performed too instantaneously for reflection, or for the sensation of pleasure or pain; though if prevented distress would be caused.

I am aware that some persons maintain that actions performed impulsively, as in the above cases, do not come under the dominion of the moral sense, and cannot be called moral. They confine this term to actions done deliberately, after a victory over opposing desires, or to actions prompted by some lofty motive. But it appears scarcely possible to draw any clear line of distinction of this kind; though the distinction may be real. As far as exalted motives are concerned, many instances have been recorded of barbarians, dest.i.tute of any feeling of general benevolence towards mankind, and not guided by any religious motive, who have deliberately as prisoners sacrificed their lives,[121]

rather than betray their comrades; and surely their conduct ought to be considered as moral. As far as deliberation and the victory over opposing motives are concerned, animals may be seen doubting between opposed instincts, as in rescuing their offspring or comrades from danger; yet their actions, though done for the good of others, are not called moral. Moreover, an action repeatedly performed by us, will at last be done without deliberation or hesitation, and can then hardly be distinguished from an instinct; yet surely no one will pretend that an action thus done ceases to be moral. On the contrary, we all feel that an act cannot be considered as perfect, or as performed in the most n.o.ble manner, unless it be done impulsively, without deliberation or effort, in the same manner as by a man in whom the requisite qualities are innate. He who is forced to overcome his fear or want of sympathy before he acts, deserves, however, in one way higher credit than the man whose innate disposition leads him to a good act without effort. As we cannot distinguish between motives, we rank all actions of a certain cla.s.s as moral, when they are performed by a moral being. A moral being is one who is capable of comparing his past and future actions or motives, and of approving or disapproving of them. We have no reason to suppose that any of the lower animals have this capacity; therefore when a monkey faces danger to rescue its comrade, or takes charge of an orphan-monkey, we do not call its conduct moral. But in the case of man, who alone can with certainty be ranked as a moral being, actions of a certain cla.s.s are called moral, whether performed deliberately after a struggle with opposing motives, or from the effects of slowly-gained habit, or impulsively through instinct.

But to return to our more immediate subject; although some instincts are more powerful than others, thus leading to corresponding actions, yet it cannot be maintained that the social instincts are ordinarily stronger in man, or have become stronger through long-continued habit, than the instincts, for instance, of self-preservation, hunger, l.u.s.t, vengeance, &c. Why then does man regret, even though he may endeavour to banish any such regret, that he has followed the one natural impulse, rather than the other; and why does he further feel that he ought to regret his conduct? Man in this respect differs profoundly from the lower animals.

Nevertheless we can, I think, see with some degree of clearness the reason of this difference.

Man, from the activity of his mental faculties, cannot avoid reflection: past impressions and images are incessantly pa.s.sing through his mind with distinctness. Now with those animals which live permanently in a body, the social instincts are ever present and persistent. Such animals are always ready to utter the danger-signal, to defend the community, and to give aid to their fellows in accordance with their habits; they feel at all times, without the stimulus of any special pa.s.sion or desire, some degree of love and sympathy for them; they are unhappy if long separated from them, and always happy to be in their company. So it is with ourselves. A man who possessed no trace of such feelings would be an unnatural monster. On the other hand, the desire to satisfy hunger, or any pa.s.sion, such as vengeance, is in its nature temporary, and can for a time be fully satisfied. Nor is it easy, perhaps hardly possible, to call up with complete vividness the feeling, for instance, of hunger; nor indeed, as has often been remarked, of any suffering. The instinct of self-preservation is not felt except in the presence of danger; and many a coward has thought himself brave until he has met his enemy face to face. The wish for another man's property is perhaps as persistent a desire as any that can be named; but even in this case the satisfaction of actual possession is generally a weaker feeling than the desire: many a thief, if not an habitual one, after success has wondered why he stole some article.

Thus, as man cannot prevent old impressions continually repa.s.sing through his mind, he will be compelled to compare the weaker impressions of, for instance, past hunger, or of vengeance satisfied or danger avoided at the cost of other men, with the instinct of sympathy and good-will to his fellows, which is still present and ever in some degree active in his mind. He will then feel in his imagination that a stronger instinct has yielded to one which now seems comparatively weak; and then that sense of dissatisfaction will inevitably be felt with which man is endowed, like every other animal, in order that his instincts may be obeyed. The case before given, of the swallow, affords an ill.u.s.tration, though of a reversed nature, of a temporary though for the time strongly persistent instinct conquering another instinct which is usually dominant over all others. At the proper season these birds seem all day long to be impressed with the desire to migrate; their habits change; they become restless, are noisy, and congregate in flocks. Whilst the mother-bird is feeding or brooding over her nestlings, the maternal instinct is probably stronger than the migratory; but the instinct which is more persistent gains the victory, and at last, at a moment when her young ones are not in sight, she takes flight and deserts them. When arrived at the end of her long journey, and the migratory instinct ceases to act, what an agony of remorse each bird would feel, if, from being endowed with great mental activity, she could not prevent the image continually pa.s.sing before her mind of her young ones perishing in the bleak north from cold and hunger.

At the moment of action, man will no doubt be apt to follow the stronger impulse; and though this may occasionally prompt him to the n.o.blest deeds, it will far more commonly lead him to gratify his own desires at the expense of other men. But after their gratification, when past and weaker impressions are contrasted with the ever-enduring social instincts, retribution will surely come. Man will then feel dissatisfied with himself, and will resolve with more or less force to act differently for the future. This is conscience; for conscience looks backwards and judges past actions, inducing that kind of dissatisfaction, which if weak we call regret, and if severe remorse.

These sensations are, no doubt, different from those experienced when other instincts or desires are left unsatisfied; but every unsatisfied instinct has its own proper prompting sensation, as we recognise with hunger, thirst, &c. Man thus prompted, will through long habit acquire such perfect self-command, that his desires and pa.s.sions will at last instantly yield to his social sympathies, and there will no longer be a struggle between them. The still hungry, or the still revengeful man will not think of stealing food, or of wreaking his vengeance. It is possible, or, as we shall hereafter see, even probable, that the habit of self-command may, like other habits, be inherited. Thus at last man comes to feel, through acquired and perhaps inherited habit, that it is best for him to obey his more persistent instincts. The imperious word _ought_ seems merely to imply the consciousness of the existence of a persistent instinct, either innate or partly acquired, serving him as a guide, though liable to be disobeyed. We hardly use the word _ought_ in a metaphorical sense, when we say hounds ought to hunt, pointers to point, and retrievers to retrieve their game. If they fail thus to act, they fail in their duty and act wrongly.

If any desire or instinct, leading to an action opposed to the good of others, still appears to a man, when recalled to mind, as strong as, or stronger than, his social instinct, he will feel no keen regret at having followed it; but he will be conscious that if his conduct were known to his fellows, it would meet with their disapprobation; and few are so dest.i.tute of sympathy as not to feel discomfort when this is realised. If he has no such sympathy, and if his desires leading to bad actions are at the time strong, and when recalled are not overmastered by the persistent social instincts, then he is essentially a bad man;[122] and the sole restraining motive left is the fear of punishment, and the conviction that in the long run it would be best for his own selfish interests to regard the good of others rather than his own.

It is obvious that every one may with an easy conscience gratify his own desires, if they do not interfere with his social instincts, that is with the good of others; but in order to be quite free from self-reproach, or at least of anxiety, it is almost necessary for him to avoid the disapprobation, whether reasonable or not, of his fellow men.

Nor must he break through the fixed habits of his life, especially if these are supported by reason; for if he does, he will a.s.suredly feel dissatisfaction. He must likewise avoid the reprobation of the one G.o.d or G.o.ds, in whom according to his knowledge or superst.i.tion he may believe; but in this case the additional fear of divine punishment often supervenes.

_The strictly Social Virtues at first alone regarded._-The above view of the first origin and nature of the moral sense, which tells us what we ought to do, and of the conscience which reproves us if we disobey it, accords well with what we see of the early and undeveloped condition of this faculty in mankind. The virtues which must be practised, at least generally, by rude men, so that they may a.s.sociate in a body, are those which are still recognised as the most important. But they are practised almost exclusively in relation to the men of the same tribe; and their opposites are not regarded as crimes in relation to the men of other tribes. No tribe could hold together if murder, robbery, treachery, &c., were common; consequently such crimes within the limits of the same tribe "are branded with everlasting infamy;"[123] but excite no such sentiment beyond these limits. A North-American Indian is well pleased with himself, and is honoured by others, when he scalps a man of another tribe; and a Dyak cuts off the head of an unoffending person and dries it as a trophy. The murder of infants has prevailed on the largest scale throughout the world,[124] and has met with no reproach; but infanticide, especially of females, has been thought to be good for the tribe, or at least not injurious. Suicide during former times was not generally considered as a crime,[125] but rather from the courage displayed as an honourable act; and it is still largely practised by some semi-civilised nations without reproach, for the loss to a nation of a single individual is not felt: whatever the explanation may be, suicide, as I hear from Sir J. Lubbock, is rarely practised by the lowest barbarians. It has been recorded that an Indian Thug conscientiously regretted that he had not strangled and robbed as many travellers as did his father before him. In a rude state of civilisation the robbery of strangers is, indeed, generally considered as honourable.

The great sin of Slavery has been almost universal, and slaves have often been treated in an infamous manner. As barbarians do not regard the opinion of their women, wives are commonly treated like slaves. Most savages are utterly indifferent to the sufferings of strangers, or even delight in witnessing them. It is well known that the women and children of the North-American Indians aided in torturing their enemies. Some savages take a horrid pleasure in cruelty to animals,[126] and humanity with them is an unknown virtue. Nevertheless, feelings of sympathy and kindness are common, especially during sickness, between the members of the same tribe, and are sometimes extended beyond the limits of the tribe. Mungo Park's touching account of the kindness of the negro women of the interior to him is well known. Many instances could be given of the n.o.ble fidelity of savages towards each other, but not to strangers; common experience justifies the maxim of the Spaniard, "Never, never trust an Indian." There cannot be fidelity without truth; and this fundamental virtue is not rare between the members of the same tribe: thus Mungo Park heard the negro women teaching their young children to love the truth. This, again, is one of the virtues which becomes so deeply rooted in the mind that it is sometimes practised by savages even at a high cost, towards strangers; but to lie to your enemy has rarely been thought a sin, as the history of modern diplomacy too plainly shews. As soon as a tribe has a recognised leader, disobedience becomes a crime, and even abject submission is looked at as a sacred virtue.

As during rude times no man can be useful or faithful to his tribe without courage, this quality has universally been placed in the highest rank; and although, in civilised countries, a good, yet timid, man may be far more useful to the community than a brave one, we cannot help instinctively honouring the latter above a coward, however benevolent.

Prudence, on the other hand, which does not concern the welfare of others, though a very useful virtue, has never been highly esteemed. As no man can practise the virtues necessary for the welfare of his tribe without self-sacrifice, self-command, and the power of endurance, these qualities have been at all times highly and most justly valued. The American savage voluntarily submits without a groan to the most horrid tortures to prove and strengthen his fort.i.tude and courage; and we cannot help admiring him, or even an Indian Fakir, who, from a foolish religious motive, swings suspended by a hook buried in his flesh.

The other self-regarding virtues, which do not obviously, though they may really, affect the welfare of the tribe, have never been esteemed by savages, though now highly appreciated by civilised nations. The greatest intemperance with savages is no reproach. Their utter licentiousness, not to mention unnatural crimes, is something astounding.[127] As soon, however, as marriage, whether polygamous or monogamous, becomes common, jealousy will lead to the inculcation of female virtue; and this being honoured will tend to spread to the unmarried females. How slowly it spreads to the male s.e.x we see at the present day. Chast.i.ty eminently requires self-command; therefore it has been honoured from a very early period in the moral history of civilised man. As a consequence of this, the senseless practice of celibacy has been ranked from a remote period as a virtue.[128] The hatred of indecency, which appears to us so natural as to be thought innate, and which is so valuable an aid to chast.i.ty, is a modern virtue, appertaining exclusively, as Sir G. Staunton remarks,[129] to civilised life. This is shewn by the ancient religious rites of various nations, by the drawings on the walls of Pompeii, and by the practices of many savages.

We have now seen that actions are regarded by savages, and were probably so regarded by primeval man, as good or bad, solely as they affect in an obvious manner the welfare of the tribe,-not that of the species, nor that of man as an individual member of the tribe. This conclusion agrees well with the belief that the so-called moral sense is aboriginally derived from the social instincts, for both relate at first exclusively to the community. The chief causes of the low morality of savages, as judged by our standard, are, firstly, the confinement of sympathy to the same tribe. Secondly, insufficient powers of reasoning, so that the bearing of many virtues, especially of the self-regarding virtues, on the general welfare of the tribe is not recognised. Savages, for instance, fail to trace the multiplied evils consequent on a want of temperance, chast.i.ty, &c. And, thirdly, weak power of self-command; for this power has not been strengthened through long-continued, perhaps inherited, habit, instruction and religion.

I have entered into the above details on the immorality of savages,[130]

because some authors have recently taken a high view of their moral nature, or have attributed most of their crimes to mistaken benevolence.[131] These authors appear to rest their conclusion on savages possessing, as they undoubtedly do possess, and often in a high degree, those virtues which are serviceable, or even necessary, for the existence of a tribal community.

_Concluding Remarks._-Philosophers of the derivative[132] school of morals formerly a.s.sumed that the foundation of morality lay in a form of Selfishness; but more recently in the "Greatest Happiness principle."

According to the view given above, the moral sense is fundamentally identical with the social instincts; and in the case of the lower animals it would be absurd to speak of these instincts as having been developed from selfishness, or for the happiness of the community. They have, however, certainly been developed for the general good of the community. The term, general good, may be defined as the means by which the greatest possible number of individuals can be reared in full vigour and health, with all their faculties perfect, under the conditions to which they are exposed. As the social instincts both of man and the lower animals have no doubt been developed by the same steps, it would be advisable, if found practicable, to use the same definition in both cases, and to take as the test of morality, the general good or welfare of the community, rather than the general happiness; but this definition would perhaps require some limitation on account of political ethics.

When a man risks his life to save that of a fellow-creature, it seems more appropriate to say that he acts for the general good or welfare, rather than for the general happiness of mankind. No doubt the welfare and the happiness of the individual usually coincide; and a contented, happy tribe will flourish better than one that is discontented and unhappy. We have seen that at an early period in the history of man, the expressed wishes of the community will have naturally influenced to a large extent the conduct of each member; and as all wish for happiness, the "greatest happiness principle" will have become a most important secondary guide and object; the social instincts, including sympathy, always serving as the primary impulse and guide. Thus the reproach of laying the foundation of the most n.o.ble part of our nature in the base principle of selfishness is removed; unless indeed the satisfaction which every animal feels when it follows its proper instincts, and the dissatisfaction felt when prevented, be called selfish.

The expression of the wishes and judgment of the members of the same community, at first by oral and afterwards by written language, serves, as just remarked, as a most important secondary guide of conduct, in aid of the social instincts, but sometimes in opposition to them. This latter fact is well exemplified by the _Law of Honour_, that is the law of the opinion of our equals, and not of all our countrymen. The breach of this law, even when the breach is known to be strictly accordant with true morality, has caused many a man more agony than a real crime. We recognise the same influence in the burning sense of shame which most of us have felt even after the interval of years, when calling to mind some accidental breach of a trifling though fixed rule of etiquette. The judgment of the community will generally be guided by some rude experience of what is best in the long run for all the members; but this judgment will not rarely err from ignorance and from weak powers of reasoning. Hence the strangest customs and superst.i.tions, in complete opposition to the true welfare and happiness of mankind, have become all-powerful throughout the world. We see this in the horror felt by a Hindoo who breaks his caste, in the shame of a Mahometan woman who exposes her face, and in innumerable other instances. It would be difficult to distinguish between the remorse felt by a Hindoo who has eaten unclean food, from that felt after committing a theft; but the former would probably be the more severe.

How so many absurd rules of conduct, as well as so many absurd religious beliefs, have originated we do not know; nor how it is that they have become, in all quarters of the world, so deeply impressed on the mind of men; but it is worthy of remark that a belief constantly inculcated during the early years of life, whilst the brain is impressible, appears to acquire almost the nature of an instinct; and the very essence of an instinct is that it is followed independently of reason. Neither can we say why certain admirable virtues, such as the love of truth, are much more highly appreciated by some savage tribes than by others;[133] nor, again, why similar differences prevail even amongst civilised nations.

Knowing how firmly fixed many strange customs and superst.i.tions have become, we need feel no surprise that the self-regarding virtues should now appear to us so natural, supported as they are by reason, as to be thought innate, although they were not valued by man in his early condition.

Notwithstanding many sources of doubt, man can generally and readily distinguish between the higher and lower moral rules. The higher are founded on the social instincts, and relate to the welfare of others.

They are supported by the approbation of our fellow-men and by reason.

The lower rules, though some of them when implying self-sacrifice hardly deserve to be called lower, relate chiefly to self, and owe their origin to public opinion, when matured by experience and cultivated; for they are not practised by rude tribes.

As man advances in civilisation, and small tribes are united into larger communities, the simplest reason would tell each individual that he ought to extend his social instincts and sympathies to all the members of the same nation, though personally unknown to him. This point being once reached, there is only an artificial barrier to prevent his sympathies extending to the men of all nations and races. If, indeed, such men are separated from him by great differences in appearance or habits, experience unfortunately shews us how long it is before we look at them as our fellow-creatures. Sympathy beyond the confines of man, that is humanity to the lower animals, seems to be one of the latest moral acquisitions. It is apparently unfelt by savages, except towards their pets. How little the old Romans knew of it is shewn by their abhorrent gladiatorial exhibitions. The very idea of humanity, as far as I could observe, was new to most of the Gauchos of the Pampas. This virtue, one of the n.o.blest with which man is endowed, seems to arise incidentally from our sympathies becoming more tender and more widely diffused, until they are extended to all sentient beings. As soon as this virtue is honoured and practised by some few men, it spreads through instruction and example to the young, and eventually through public opinion.