Mr. Darwin truthfully remarks on the great difference in these respects between such creatures as ants and bees, and singularly inert members of the same class-such as the scale insect or coccus. But can it be pretended that the action of natural and sexual selection has alone produced these phenomena in certain insects, and failed to produce them in any other mere animals even of the very highest class? If these phenomena are due to a power and faculty similar in kind to human intelligence, and which power is latent and capable of evolution in all animals, then it is certain that this power must have been evolved in other instances also, and that we should see varying degrees of it in many, and notably in the highest brutes as well as in man. If, on the other hand, the faculties of brutes are different in kind from human intelligence, there can be no reason whatever why animals most closely approaching man in physical structure should resemble him in psychical nature also.

This reflection leads us to the difference which exists between men and brutes as regards the faculty of articulate speech. Mr. Darwin remarks that of the distinctively human characters this has 'justly been considered as one of the chief' (vol. i. p. 53). We cannot agree in this. Some brutes can articulate, and it is quite conceivable that brutes might (though as a fact they do not) so associate certain sensations and gratifications with certain articulate sounds as, in a certain sense, to speak. This, however, would in no way even tend to bridge over the gulf which exists between the representative reflective faculties and the merely presentative ones. Articulate signs of sensible impressions would be fundamentally as distinct as mere gestures are from truly rational speech.

Mr. Darwin evades the question about language by in one place (vol. i. p. 54) attributing that faculty in man to his

having acquired a higher intellectual nature; and in another (vol. ii. p. 391), by ascribing his higher intellectual nature to his having acquired that faculty.

Our author's attempts to bridge over the chasm which separates instinctive cries from rational speech are remarkable examples of groundless speculation. Thus he ventures to say

'that primeval man, or rather some early progenitor of man, probably used his voice largely, as does one of the gibbon-apes at the present day, in producing true musical cadences, that is, in singing; we may conclude from a widely-spread analogy that this power would have been especially exerted during the courtship of the sexes, serving to express various emotions, as love, jealousy, triumph, and serving as a challenge to their rivals. The imitation by articulate sounds of musical cries might have given rise to words expressive of various complex emotions.'

And again:

'It does not appear altogether incredible, that some unusually wise ape-like animal should have thought of imitating the growl of a beast of prey, so as to indicate to his fellow-monkeys the nature of the expected danger. And this would have been a first step in the formation of a language.'—Vol. i. p. 56.

But the question is, not whether it is incredible, but whether there are any data whatever to warrant such a supposition. Mr. Darwin brings forward none: we suspect none could be brought forward.

It is not, however, emotional expressions or manifestations of sensible impressions, in whatever way exhibited, which have to be accounted for, but the enunciation of distinct deliberate judgment as to the what,' 'the how,' and 'the why,' by definite articulate sounds; and for these Mr. Darwin not only does not account, but he does not adduce anything even tending to account for them. Altogether we may fairly conclude, from the complete failure of Mr. Darwin to establish

identity of kind between the mental faculties of man and of brutes, that identity cannot be established; as we are not likely for many years to meet with a naturalist so competent to collect and marshal facts in support of such identity, if any such facts there are. The old barrier, then, between 'presentative instinct' and 'representative reason' remains still unimpaired, and, as we believe, insurmountable.

We now pass to another question, which is of even greater consequence than that of man's intellectual powers. Mr. Darwin does not hesitate to declare that even the 'moral sense' is a mere result of the development of brutal instincts. He maintains, the first foundation or origin of the moral sense lies in the social instincts, including sympathy; and these instincts no doubt were primarily gained, as in the case of the lower animals, through natural selection' (vol. ii. p. 394).

Everything, however, depends upon what we mean by the 'moral sense.' It is a patent fact that there does exist a perception of the qualities 'right' and 'wrong' attaching to certain actions. However arising, men have a consciousness of an absolute and immutable rule legitimately claiming obedience with an authority necessarily supreme and absolute-in other words, intellectual judgments are formed which imply the existence of an ethical ideal in the judging mind.

It is the existence of this power which has to be accounted for; neither its application nor even its validity have to be considered. Yet instances of difference of opinion respecting the moral value of particular concrete actions are often brought forward as if they could disprove the existence of moral intuition. Such instances are utterly beside the question. It is amply sufficient for our purpose if it be conceded that developed reason dictates to us that certain modes of

action, abstractedly considered, are intrinsically wrong; and this we believe to be indisputable.

It is equally beside the question to show that the existence of mutually beneficial acts and of altruistic habits can be explained by natural selection.' No amount of benevolent habits tend even in the remotest degree to account for the intellectual perception of 'right' and 'duty.' Such habits may make the doing of beneficial acts pleasant, and their omission painful; but such feelings have essentially nothing whatever to do with the perception of 'right' and 'wrong,' nor will the faintest incipient stage of the perception be accounted for by the strongest development of such sympathetic feelings. Liking to do acts which happen to be good is one thing; seeing that actions are good, whether we or others like them or not, is quite another.

Mr. Darwin's account of the moral sense is very different from the above. It may be expressed most briefly by saying that it is the prevalence of more enduring instincts over less persistent ones-the former being social instincts, the latter personal ones. He tells us:

'As man cannot prevent old impressions continually re-passing 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 goodwill 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.'-Vol. i. p. 90.

Mr. Darwin means by 'the moral sense' an instinct, and adds, truly enough, that the very essence of an instinct is, that it is followed independently of reason' (vol. i. p. 100). But the very essence of moral action is that it is not followed independently of reason.

Having stated our wide divergence from Mr. Darwin with respect to what the term 'moral sense' denotes, we might be dispensed from criticising instances which must from our point of view be irrelevant, as Mr. Darwin would probably admit. Nevertheless, let us examine a few of these instances, and see if we can discover in them any justification of the views he propounds.

As illustrations of the development of self-reproach for the neglect of some good action, he observes:

'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 assumption 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.'-Vol. i. P. 80.

Now, passing over the question whether in the 'pointing' and 'patting' referred to there may not be some agreeable sensations, we contend that such instincts have nothing to do with 'morality,' from their blind nature, such blindness simply ipso facto eliminating every vestige of morality from

an action.

Mr. Darwin certainly exaggerates the force and extent of social sympathetic feelings. Mr. Mill admits that they are ‘often wanting'; but Mr. Darwin claims the conscious possession of such feelings for all, and quotes Hume as saying that the view of the happiness of others' communicates a secret joy,' while the appearance of their misery 'throws a melancholy damp over the imagination.' One might wish that this remark were universally true, but unfortunately

1

1 Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, edit. 1751,

p. 132.