Solution Manual For Essentials of Ecology 7th Edition by Miller Spoolman ISBN 9781285197265
Solution Manual For Essentials of Ecology 7th Edition by Miller Spoolman ISBN 9781285197265
Chapter Outline
CORE CASE STUDY How Do Scientists Learn about Nature? Experimenting with a Forest
2-1 What Do Scientists Do?
Individuals matter Jane Goodall: Chimpanzee Researcher and Protector
SCIENCE FOCUS Some Revisions in a Popular Scientific Hypothesis
2-2 What Is Matter and What Happens When It Undergoes Change?
2-3 What Is Energy and What Happens When It Undergoes Change?
2-4 What Are Systems and How Do They Respond to Change?
SCIENCE FOCUS The Usefulness of Models
TYING IT ALL TOGETHER The Hubbard Brook Forest Experiment and Sustainability
Key Concepts
2-1 Scientists collect data and develop hypotheses, theories, models, and laws about how nature works.
2-2A Matter consists of elements and compounds, which in turn are made up of atoms, ions,
or molecules.
2-2B Whenever matter undergoes a physical or chemical change, no atoms are created or destroyed
(the law of conservation of matter).
2-3A Whenever energy is converted from one form to another in a physical or chemical change,
no energy is created or destroyed (first law of thermodynamics).
2-3B Whenever energy is converted from one form to another in a physical or chemical change, we
end up with lower-quality or less-usable energy than we started with (second law of thermodynamics).
2-4 Systems have inputs, flows, and outputs of matter and energy, and feedback can affect their behavior.
Teaching Tips
Large Lecture Courses:
Brainstorm ways in which the first law of thermodynamics might be applicable to daily life. You might
begin with respiration and homeostasis, or jump straight into transportation and fuel costs. Bring in
typical levels of efficiency for the internal combustion engine, and let the students calculate roughly how
much of the money they spend on transportation actually is applied to mobility. Explain that most of the
energy is dissipated as heat, and then compare with the efficiency of mass transit. This is a good
opportunity to tie these concepts in to issues that are relevant to the students’ lives.
Focus on experimental design and the scientific method by proposing a hypothetical situation (or perhaps
a real one, from the local environment). Think of a problem or issue, such as vegetation change,
pollution, a proposed dam or quarry, etc. Ask the students to form small groups and discuss how they
might set up an experiment and control, and what variables would be most relevant to the experiment
given the issue you presented. As an entire class, explore the perplexing issues that arise in environmental
field studies when other factors and interactions within the system influence your study.
Key Terms
acidity data frontier science
atomic number electromagnetic radiation genes
atom electrons heat
atomic theory elements high-quality energy
cells energy high-quality matter
chemical change energy quality inorganic compounds
chemical element feedback inputs
chemical formula feedback loop ion
chemical reaction first law of thermodynamics isotopes
chromosome flows kinetic energy
Descent of Man,
The formation of different languages and of
page 90. distinct species and the proofs that both have been
developed through a gradual process are curiously
parallel. But we can trace the formation of many words further back than
that of species, for we can perceive how they actually arose from the
imitation of various sounds. We find in distinct languages striking
homologies due to community of descent, and analogies due to a similar
process of formation. The manner in which certain letters or sounds change
when others change is very like correlated growth. We have in both cases
the reduplication of parts, the effects of long-continued use, and so forth.
The frequent presence of rudiments, both in languages and in species, is
still more remarkable. The letter m in the word am means I; so that, in the
expression I am, a superfluous and useless rudiment has been retained. In
the spelling also of words, letters often remain as the rudiments of ancient
forms of pronunciation. Languages, like organic beings, can be classed in
groups under groups; and they can be classed either naturally according to
descent, or artificially by other characters. Dominant languages and dialects
spread widely, and lead to the gradual extinction of other tongues. A
language, like a species, when once extinct, never, as Sir C. Lyell remarks,
reappears. The same language never has two birthplaces. Distinct languages
may be crossed or blended together. We see variability in every tongue, and
new words are continually cropping up; but, as there is a limit to the powers
of the memory, single words, like whole languages, gradually become
extinct. As Max Müller has well remarked: “A struggle for life is constantly
going on among the words and grammatical forms in each language. The
better, the shorter, the easier forms are constantly gaining the upper hand,
and they owe their success to their own inherent virtue.” To these more
important causes of the survival of certain words, mere novelty and fashion
may be added; for there is in the mind of man a strong love for slight
changes in all things. The survival or preservation of certain favored words
in the struggle for existence is natural selection.
The perfectly regular and wonderfully complex construction of the
languages of many barbarous nations has often been advanced as a proof,
either of the divine origin of these languages, or of the high art and former
civilization of their founders. Thus F. von Schlegel writes: “In those
languages which appear to be at the lowest grade of intellectual culture, we
frequently observe a very high and elaborate degree of art in their
grammatical structure. This is especially the case with the Basque and the
Lapponian, and many of the American languages.” But it is assuredly an
error to speak of any language as an art, in the sense of its having been
elaborately and methodically formed. Philologists now admit that
conjugations, declensions, etc., originally existed as distinct words, since
joined together; and, as such words express the most obvious relations
between objects and persons, it is not surprising that they should have been
used by the men of most races during the earliest ages. With respect to
perfection, the following illustration will best show how easily we may err:
a crinoid sometimes consists of no less than one hundred and fifty thousand
pieces of shell, all arranged with perfect symmetry in radiating lines; but a
naturalist does not consider an animal of this kind as more perfect than a
bilateral one with comparatively few parts, and with none of these parts
alike, excepting on the opposite sides of the body. He justly considers the
differentiation and specialization of organs as the test of perfection. So with
languages; the most symmetrical and complex ought not to be ranked above
irregular, abbreviated, and bastardized languages.
Descent of Man,
This sense has been declared to be peculiar to
page 92. man. I refer here only to the pleasure given by
certain colors, forms, and sounds, and which may
fairly be called a sense of the beautiful; with cultivated men such sensations
are, however, intimately associated with complex ideas and trains of
thought. When we behold a male bird elaborately displaying his graceful
plumes or splendid colors before the female, while other birds, not thus
decorated, make no such display, it is impossible to doubt that she admires
the beauty of her male partner. As women everywhere deck themselves
with these plumes, the beauty of such ornaments can not be disputed. As we
shall see later, the nests of humming-birds and the playing passages of
bower-birds are tastefully ornamented with gayly-colored objects; and this
shows that they must receive some kind of pleasure from the sight of such
things. With the great majority of animals, however, the taste for the
beautiful is confined, as far as we can judge, to the attractions of the
opposite sex. The sweet strains poured forth by many male birds during the
season of love are certainly admired by the females, of which fact evidence
will hereafter be given. If female birds had been incapable of appreciating
the beautiful colors, the ornaments, and voices of their male partners, all the
labor and anxiety exhibited by the latter in displaying their charms before
the females would have been thrown away; and this it is impossible to
admit. Why certain bright colors should excite pleasure can not, I presume,
be explained, any more than why certain flavors and scents are agreeable;
but habit has something to do with the result, for that which is at first
unpleasant to our senses, ultimately becomes pleasant, and habits are
inherited.
* * * * *
Page 111. 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
Newfoundland dog drags a child out of the water, or 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 class are called moral.
* * * * *
Page 103. Several years ago a keeper at the Zoölogical
Gardens showed me some deep and scarcely healed
wounds on the nape of his own neck, inflicted on him, while 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 in peril, he rushed to the rescue, and by screams and bites so
distracted the baboon that the man was able to escape, after, as the surgeon
thought, running great risk of his life.
Besides love and sympathy, animals exhibit other qualities connected
with the social instincts, which in us would be called moral; and I agree
with Agassiz that dogs possess something very like a conscience.
* * * * *
With mankind, selfishness, experience, and
Page 107.
imitation, probably add, as Mr. Bain has shown, 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 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 one another, 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.
It is, however, impossible to decide in many cases 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
of sentinels to warn the community of danger can hardly have been the
indirect result of any of these faculties; 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.
Page 109.
Although man 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 fellows; for, as Mr. Bain
has clearly shown, 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 influenced in the highest degree
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 some of his best actions; but his
actions are in a higher degree determined by the expressed wishes and
judgment of his fellow-men, and unfortunately very often by his own strong
selfish desires. But as love, sympathy, and self-command become
strengthened by habit, and as the power of reasoning becomes clearer, so
that man can value justly the judgments of his fellows, he will feel himself
impelled, apart from any transitory pleasure or pain, to certain lines of
conduct. He might then declare—not that any barbarian or uncultivated man
could thus think—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.
* * * * *
Page 125. Looking to future generations, there is no cause
to fear that the social instincts will grow weaker, and
we may expect that virtuous habits will grow stronger, becoming perhaps
fixed by inheritance. In this case the struggle between our higher and lower
impulses will be less severe, and virtue will be triumphant.
Descent of Man,
Why does man regret, even though trying to
page 112. banish 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, can not avoid reflection:
past impressions and images are incessantly and clearly passing through his
mind. 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 passion or desire, some degree of love and
sympathy for them; they are unhappy if long separated from them, and
always happy to be again in their company. So it is with ourselves. Even
when we are quite alone, how often do we think with pleasure or pain of
what others think of us—of their imagined approbation or disapprobation!
—and this all follows from sympathy, a fundamental element of the social
instincts. A man who possessed no trace of such instincts would be an
unnatural monster. On the other hand, the desire to satisfy hunger, or any
passion 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.
REMORSE EXPLAINED.
Several critics have objected that though some
Page 114.
slight regret or repentance may be explained by the
view advocated in this chapter, it is impossible thus to account for the soul-
shaking feeling of remorse. But I can see little force in this objection. My
critics do not define what they mean by remorse, and I can find no
definition implying more than an overwhelming sense of repentance.
Remorse seems to bear the same relation to repentance as rage does to
anger, or agony to pain. It is far from strange that an instinct so strong and
so generally admired as maternal love should, if disobeyed, lead to the
deepest misery, as soon as the impression of the past cause of disobedience
is weakened. Even when an action is opposed to no special instinct, merely
to know that our friends and equals despise us for it is enough to cause great
misery. Who can doubt that the refusal to fight a duel through fear has
caused many men an agony of shame? Many a Hindoo, it is said, has been
stirred to the bottom of his soul by having partaken of unclean food. Here is
another case of what must, I think, be called remorse. Dr. Landor acted as a
magistrate in West Australia, and relates that a native on his farm, after
losing one of his wives from disease, came and said that “he was going to a
distant tribe to spear a woman, to satisfy his sense of duty to his wife.” I
told him that if he did so I would send him to prison for life. He remained
about the farm for some months, but got exceedingly thin, and complained
that he could not rest or eat, that his wife’s spirit was haunting him because
he had not taken a life for hers. I was inexorable, and assured him that
nothing should save him if he did. Nevertheless, the man disappeared for
more than a year, and then returned in high condition; and his other wife
told Dr. Landor that her husband had taken the life of a woman belonging to
a distant tribe; but it was impossible to obtain legal evidence of the act. The
breach of a rule held sacred by the tribe will thus, as it seems, give rise to
the deepest feelings, and this quite apart from the social instincts, excepting
in so far as the rule is grounded on the judgment of the community. How so
many strange superstitions have arisen throughout the world we know not;
nor can we tell how some real and great crimes, such as incest, have come
to be held in an abhorrence (which is not, however, quite universal) by the
lowest savages. It is even doubtful whether in some tribes incest would be
looked on with greater horror than would the marriage of a man with a
woman bearing the same name, though not a relation. “To violate this law is
a crime which the Australians hold in the greatest abhorrence, in this
agreeing exactly with certain tribes of North America. When the question is
put in either district, is it worse to kill a girl of a foreign tribe, or to marry a
girl of one’s own, an answer just opposite to ours would be given without
hesitation.” We may, therefore, reject the belief, lately insisted on by some
writers, that the abhorrence of incest is due to our possessing a special God-
implanted conscience.
DEVELOPMENT OF SELF-CONTROL.
Page 115.
Man, prompted by his conscience, will through
long habit acquire such perfect self-command, that
his desires and passions will at last yield instantly and without a struggle to
his social sympathies and instincts, including his feeling for the judgment of
his fellows. 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
impulses. The imperious word ought seems merely to imply the
consciousness of the existence of a rule of conduct, however it may have
originated. Formerly it must have been often vehemently urged that an
insulted gentleman ought to fight a duel. We even say that a pointer ought
to point, and a retriever to retrieve game. If they fail to do so, 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, when recalled to mind, as strong as, or stronger than,
the social instinct, a man 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 destitute of sympathy as not
to feel discomfort when this is realized. 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 and the judgment of
others, then he is essentially a bad man; 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 assuredly feel dissatisfaction. He must likewise avoid the
reprobation of the one God or gods in whom, according to his knowledge or
superstition, he may believe; but in this case the additional fear of divine
punishment often supervenes.
VARIABILITY OF CONSCIENCE.
Page 117.
Suicide during former times was not generally
considered as a crime, but rather, from the courage
displayed, as an honorable act; and it is still practiced by some semi-
civilized and savage nations without reproach, for it does not obviously
concern others of the tribe. It has been recorded that an Indian thug
conscientiously regretted that he had not robbed and strangled as many
travelers as did his father before him. In a rude state of civilization the
robbery of strangers is, indeed, generally considered as honorable.
Slavery, although in some way beneficial during ancient times, is a
great crime; yet it was not so regarded until quite recently, even by the most
civilized nations. And this was especially the case because the slaves
belonged in general to a race different from that of their masters. As
barbarians do not regard the opinion of their women, wives are commonly
treated like slaves.
* * * * *
Page 122. 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 minds of men; but it is worthy of remark
that a belief constantly inculcated during the early years of life, while 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;
nor, again, why similar differences prevail even among highly civilized
nations. Knowing how firmly fixed many strange customs and superstitions
have become, we need feel no surprise that the self-regarding virtues,
supported as they are by reason, should now appear to us so natural as to be
thought innate, although they were not valued by man in his early
condition.
* * * * *
The wishes and opinions of the members of the
Page 121.
same community, expressed at first orally, but later
by writing also, either form the sole guides of our conduct, or greatly re-
enforce the social instincts; such opinions, however, have sometimes a
tendency directly opposed to these instincts. This latter fact is well
exemplified by the law of honor, 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 recognize 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.
Descent of Man,
We must remember that progress is no invariable
page 140. rule. It is very difficult to say why one civilized
nation rises, becomes more powerful, and spreads
more widely, than another; or why the same nation progresses more quickly
at one time than at another. We can only say that it depends on an increase
in the actual number of the population, on the number of the men endowed
with high intellectual and moral faculties, as well as on their standard of
excellence. Corporeal structure appears to have little influence, except so
far as vigor of body leads to vigor of mind.
It has been urged by several writers that, as high intellectual powers are
advantageous to a nation, the old Greeks, who stood some grades higher in
intellect than any race that has ever existed, ought, if the power of natural
selection were real, to have risen still higher in the scale, increased in
number, and stocked the whole of Europe. Here we have the tacit
assumption, so often made with respect to corporeal structures, that there is
some innate tendency toward continued development in mind and body. But
development of all kinds depends on many concurrent favorable
circumstances. Natural selection acts only tentatively. Individuals and races
may have acquired certain indisputable advantages, and yet have perished
from failing in other characters. The Greeks may have retrograded from a
want of coherence between the many small states, from the small size of
their whole country, from the practice of slavery, or from extreme
sensuality; for they did not succumb until “they were enervated and corrupt
to the very core.” The Western nations of Europe, who now so
immeasurably surpass their former savage progenitors, and stand at the
summit of civilization, owe little or none of their superiority to direct
inheritance from the old Greeks, though they owe much to the written
works of that wonderful people.
* * * * *
Page 142. The remarkable success of the English as
colonists, compared to other European nations, has
been ascribed to their “daring and persistent energy”; a result which is well
illustrated by comparing the progress of the Canadians of English and
French extraction; but who can say how the English gained their energy?
There is apparently much truth in the belief that the wonderful progress of
the United States, as well as the character of the people, is the result of
natural selection; for the more energetic, restless, and courageous men from
all parts of Europe have emigrated during the last ten or twelve generations
to that great country, and have there succeeded best.
Page 144.
The evidence that all civilized nations are the
descendants of barbarians consists, on the one side,
of clear traces of their former low condition in still-existing customs,
beliefs, language, etc.; and, on the other side, of proofs that savages are
independently able to raise themselves a few steps in the scale of
civilization, and have actually thus risen. The evidence on the first head is
extremely curious, but can not be here given: I refer to such cases as that of
the art of enumeration, which, as Mr. Tylor clearly shows by reference to
the words still used in some places, originated in counting the fingers, first
of one hand and then of the other, and lastly of the toes. We have traces of
this in our own decimal system, and in the Roman numerals, where, after
the V, which is supposed to be an abbreviated picture of a human hand, we
pass on to VI, etc., when the other hand no doubt was used. So again,
“when we speak of threescore and ten, we are counting by the vigesimal
system, each score thus ideally made standing for 20—for ‘one man’ as a
Mexican or Carib would put it.” According to a large and increasing school
of philologists, every language bears the marks of its slow and gradual
evolution. So it is with the art of writing, for letters are rudiments of
pictorial representations. It is hardly possible to read Mr. McLennan’s work
and not admit that almost all civilized nations still retain traces of such rude
habits as the forcible capture of wives. What ancient nation, as the same
author asks, can be named that was originally monogamous? The primitive
idea of justice, as shown by the law of battle and other customs of which
vestiges still remain, was likewise most rude. Many existing superstitions
are the remnants of former false religious beliefs. The highest form of
religion—the grand idea of God hating sin and loving righteousness—was
unknown during primeval times.
Turning to the other kind of evidence: Sir J. Lubbock has shown that
some savages have recently improved a little in some of their simpler arts.
From the extremely curious account which he gives of the weapons, tools,
and arts in use among savages in various parts of the world, it can not be
doubted that these have nearly all been independent discoveries, excepting
perhaps the art of making fire. The Australian boomerang is a good instance
of one such independent discovery. The Tahitians when first visited had
advanced in many respects beyond the inhabitants of most of the other
Polynesian islands. There are no just grounds for the belief that the high
culture of the native Peruvians and Mexicans was derived from abroad;
many native plants were there cultivated, and a few native animals
domesticated. We should bear in mind that, judging from the small
influence of most missionaries, a wandering crew from some semi-civilized
land, if washed to the shores of America, would not have produced any
marked effect on the natives, unless they had already become somewhat
advanced. Looking to a very remote period in the history of the world, we
find, to use Sir J. Lubbock’s well-known terms, a paleolithic and neolithic
period; and no one will pretend that the art of grinding rough flint tools was
a borrowed one. In all parts of Europe, as far east as Greece, in Palestine,
India, Japan, New Zealand, and Africa, including Egypt, flint tools have
been discovered in abundance; and of their use the existing inhabitants
retain no tradition. There is also indirect evidence of their former use by the
Chinese and ancient Jews. Hence there can hardly be a doubt that the
inhabitants of these countries, which include nearly the whole civilized
world, were once in a barbarous condition. To believe that man was
aboriginally civilized and then suffered utter degradation in so many
regions is to take a pitiably low view of human nature. It is apparently a
truer and more cheerful view that progress has been much more general
than retrogression; that man has risen, though by slow and interrupted steps,
from a lowly condition to the highest standard as yet attained by him in
knowledge, morals, and religion.
“THE ENNOBLING BELIEF IN GOD.”
Descent of Man,
There is no evidence that man was aboriginally
page 93. endowed with the ennobling belief in the existence
of an Omnipotent God. On the contrary, there is
ample evidence, derived not from hasty travelers, but from men who have
long resided with savages, that numerous races have existed, and still exist,
who have no idea of one or more gods, and who have no words in their
languages to express such an idea. The question is, of course, wholly
distinct from that higher one, whether there exists a Creator and Ruler of
the universe; and this has been answered in the affirmative by some of the
highest intellects that have ever existed.
If, however, we include under the term “religion” the belief in unseen
or spiritual agencies, the case is wholly different; for this belief seems to be
universal with the less civilized races. Nor is it difficult to comprehend how
it arose. As soon as the important faculties of the imagination—wonder and
curiosity, together with some power of reasoning—had become partially
developed, man would naturally crave to understand what was passing
around him, and would have vaguely speculated on his own existence. As
Mr. McLennan has remarked: “Some explanation of the phenomena of life
a man must feign for himself; and, to judge from the universality of it, the
simplest hypothesis, and the first to occur to men, seems to have been that
natural phenomena are ascribable to the presence in animals, plants, and
things, and in the forces of nature, of such spirits prompting to action as
men are conscious they themselves possess.” It is also probable, as Mr.
Tylor has shown, that dreams may have first given rise to the notion of
spirits; for savages do not readily distinguish between subjective and
objective impressions. When a savage dreams, the figures which appear
before him are believed to have come from a distance, and to stand over
him; or “the soul of the dreamer goes out on its travels, and comes home
with a remembrance of what it has seen.” But, until the faculties of
imagination, curiosity, reason, etc., had been fairly well developed in the
mind of man, his dreams would not have led him to believe in spirits, any
more than in the case of a dog.
The tendency in savages to imagine that natural objects and agencies
are animated by spiritual or living essences is, perhaps, illustrated by a little
fact which I once noticed. My dog, a full-grown and very sensible animal,
was lying on the lawn during a hot and still day; but at a little distance a
slight breeze occasionally moved an open parasol, which would have been
wholly disregarded by the dog had any one stood near it. As it was, every
time that the parasol slightly moved, the dog growled fiercely and barked.
He must, I think, have reasoned to himself, in a rapid and unconscious
manner, that movement, without any apparent cause, indicated the presence
of some strange living agent, and that no stranger had a right to be on his
territory.
The belief in spiritual agencies would easily pass into the belief in the
existence of one or more gods. For savages would naturally attribute to
spirits the same passions, the same love of vengeance, or simplest form of
justice, and the same affections, which they themselves feel. The Fuegians
appear to be in this respect in an intermediate condition, for, when the
surgeon on board the Beagle shot some young ducklings as specimens, York
Minster declared, in the most solemn manner, “Oh, Mr. Bynoe, much rain,
much snow, blow much”; and this was evidently a retributive punishment
for wasting human food. So, again, he related how, when his brother killed
a “wild man,” storms long raged, much rain and snow fell. Yet we could
never discover that the Fuegians believed in what we should call a God, or
practiced any religious rites; and Jemmy Button, with justifiable pride,
stoutly maintained that there was no devil in his land. This latter assertion is
the more remarkable, as with savages the belief in bad spirits is far more
common than that in good ones.
The feeling of religious devotion is a highly complex one, consisting of
love, complete submission to an exalted and mysterious superior, a strong
sense of dependence, fear, reverence, gratitude, hope for the future, and
perhaps other elements. No being could experience so complex an emotion
until advanced in his intellectual and moral faculties to at least a moderately
high level. Nevertheless, we see some distant approach to this state of mind
in the deep love of a dog for his master, associated with complete
submission, some fear, and perhaps other feelings. The behavior of a dog,
when returning to his master after an absence, and, as I may add, of a
monkey to his beloved keeper, is widely different from that toward their
fellows. In the latter case, the transports of joy appear to be somewhat less,
and the sense of equality is shown in every action. Professor Braubach goes
so far as to maintain that a dog looks on his master as on a god.
The same high mental faculties which first led man to believe in unseen
spiritual agencies, then in fetichism, polytheism, and ultimately in
monotheism, would infallibly lead him, as long as his reasoning powers
remained poorly developed, to various strange superstitions and customs.
Many of these are terrible to think of—such as the sacrifice of human
beings to a blood-loving god; the trial of innocent persons by the ordeal of
poison or fire; witchcraft, etc.—yet it is well occasionally to reflect on these
superstitions, for they show us what an infinite debt of gratitude we owe to
the improvement of our reason, to science, and to our accumulated
knowledge. As Sir J. Lubbock has well observed, “It is not too much to say
that the horrible dread of unknown evil hangs like a thick cloud over savage
life, and embitters every pleasure.” These miserable and indirect
consequences of our highest faculties may be compared with the incidental
and occasional mistakes of the instincts of the lower animals.
X.
MAN A SUB-ORDER.
Page 149.
The greater number of naturalists who have
taken into consideration the whole structure of man,
including his mental faculties, have followed Blumenbach and Cuvier, and
have placed man in a separate order, under the title of the Bimana, and
therefore on an equality with the orders of the Quadrumana, Carnivora, etc.
Recently many of our best naturalists have recurred to the view first
propounded by Linnæus, so remarkable for his sagacity, and have placed
man in the same order with the Quadrumana, under the title of the Primates.
The justice of this conclusion will be admitted: for, in the first place, we
must bear in mind the comparative insignificance for classification of the
great development of the brain in man, and that the strongly-marked
differences between the skulls of man and the Quadrumana (lately insisted
upon by Bischoff, Aeby, and others) apparently follow from their
differently developed brains. In the second place, we must remember that
nearly all the other and more important differences between man and the
Quadrumana are manifestly adaptive in their nature, and relate chiefly to
the erect position of man; such as the structure of his hand, foot, and pelvis,
the curvature of his spine, and the position of his head. The family of seals
offers a good illustration of the small importance of adaptive characters for
classification. These animals differ from all other Carnivora in the form of
their bodies and in the structure of their limbs, far more than does man from
the higher apes; yet in most systems, from that of Cuvier to the most recent
one by Mr. Flower, seals are ranked as a mere family in the order of the
Carnivora. If man had not been his own classifier, he would never have
thought of founding a separate order for his own reception.
* * * * *
Page 152. As far as differences in certain important points
of structure are concerned, man may no doubt rightly
claim the rank of a sub-order; and this rank is too low, if we look chiefly to
his mental faculties. Nevertheless, from a genealogical point of view, it
appears that this rank is too high, and that man ought to form merely a
family, or possibly even only a sub-family. If we imagine three lines of
descent proceeding from a common stock, it is quite conceivable that two of
them might after the lapse of ages be so slightly changed as still to remain
as species of the same genus, while the third line might become so greatly
modified as to deserve to rank as a distinct sub-family, family, or even
order. But in this case it is almost certain that the third line would still retain
through inheritance numerous small points of resemblance with the other
two. Here, then, would occur the difficulty, at present insoluble, how much
weight we ought to assign in our classifications to strongly-marked
differences in some few points—that is, to the amount of modification
undergone—and how much to close resemblance in numerous unimportant
points, as indicating the lines of descent of genealogy. To attach much
weight to the few but strong differences is the most obvious and perhaps the
safest course, though it appears more correct to pay great attention to the
many small resemblances, as giving a truly natural classification.
In forming a judgment on this head with reference to man, we must
glance at the classification of the Simiadæ. This family is divided by almost
all naturalists into the Catarrhine group, or Old World monkeys, all of
which are characterized (as their name expresses) by the peculiar structure
of their nostrils, and by having four premolars in each jaw; and into the
Platyrrhine group or New World monkeys (including two very distinct sub-
groups), all of which are characterized by differently constructed nostrils,
and by having six premolars in each jaw. Some other small differences
might be mentioned. Now man unquestionably belongs in his dentition, in
the structure of his nostrils, and some other respects, to the Catarrhine or
Old World division; nor does he resemble the Platyrrhines more closely
than the Catarrhines in any characters, excepting in a few of not much
importance and apparently of an adaptive nature. It is, therefore, against all
probability that some New World species should have formerly varied and
produced a man-like creature, with all the distinctive characters proper to
the Old World division, losing at the same time all its own distinctive
characters. There can, consequently, hardly be a doubt that man is an
offshoot from the Old World Simian stem, and that, under a genealogical
point of view, he must be classed with the Catarrhine division.
* * * * *
Page 155. And, as man from a genealogical point of view
belongs to the Catarrhine or Old World stock, we
must conclude, however much the conclusion may revolt our pride, that our
early progenitors would have been properly thus designated. But we must
not fall into the error of supposing that the early progenitor of the whole
Simian stock, including man, was identical with, or even closely resembled,
any existing ape or monkey.
Page 155.
We are naturally led to inquire, where was the
birthplace of man at that stage of descent when our
progenitors diverged from the Catarrhine stock? The fact that they belonged
to this stock clearly shows that they inhabited the Old World; but not
Australia nor any oceanic island, as we may infer from the laws of
geographical distribution. In each great region of the world the living
mammals are closely related to the extinct species of the same region. It is,
therefore, probable that Africa was formerly inhabited by extinct apes
closely allied to the gorilla and chimpanzee; and, as these two species are
now man’s nearest allies, it is somewhat more probable that our early
progenitors lived on the African Continent than elsewhere. But it is useless
to speculate on this subject; for two or three anthropomorphous apes, one
the Dryopithecus of Lartet, nearly as large as a man, and closely allied to
Hylobates, existed in Europe during the Miocene age; and since so remote a
period the earth has certainly undergone many great revolutions, and there
has been ample time for migration on the largest scale.
At the period and place, whenever and wherever it was, when man first
lost his hairy covering, he probably inhabited a hot country; a circumstance
favorable for the frugiferous diet on which, judging from analogy, he
subsisted. We are far from knowing how long ago it was when man first
diverged from the Catarrhine stock; but it may have occurred at an epoch as
A
remote as the Eocene period; for that the higher apes have diverged from
the lower apes as early as the Upper Miocene period is shown by the
existence of the Dryopithecus. We are also quite ignorant at how rapid a
rate organisms, whether high or low in the scale, may be modified under
favorable circumstances; we know, however, that some have retained the
same form during an enormous lapse of time. From what we see going on
under domestication, we learn that some of the co-descendants of the same
species may be not at all, some a little, and some greatly changed, all within
the same period. Thus it may have been with man, who has undergone a
great amount of modification in certain characters in comparison with the
higher apes.
A
E .—The earliest of the three divisions of
the Tertiary epoch of geologists. Rocks of this age
contain a small proportion of shells identical with
species now living.
The great break in the organic chain between man and his nearest allies,
which can not be bridged over by any extinct or living species, has often
been advanced as a grave objection to the belief that man is descended from
some lower form; but this objection will not appear of much weight to those
who, from general reasons, believe in the general principle of evolution.
Breaks often occur in all parts of the series, some being wide, sharp, and
defined, others less so in various degrees; as between the orang and its
nearest allies—between the Tarsius and the other Lemuridæ—between the
elephant, and in a more striking manner between the Ornithorhynchus or
Echidna, and all other mammals. But these breaks depend merely on the
number of related forms which have become extinct. At some future period,
not very distant as measured by centuries, the civilized races of man will
almost certainly exterminate, and replace, the savage races throughout the
world. At the same time the anthropomorphous apes, as Professor
Schaaffhausen has remarked, will no doubt be exterminated. The break
between man and his nearest allies will then be wider, for it will intervene
between man in a more civilized state, as we may hope, even than the
Caucasian, and some ape as low as a baboon, instead of as now between the
negro or Australian and the gorilla.
With respect to the absence of fossil remains, serving to connect man
with his ape-like progenitors, no one will lay much stress on this fact who
reads Sir C. Lyell’s discussion, where he shows that in all the vertebrate
classes the discovery of fossil remains has been a very slow and fortuitous
process. Nor should it be forgotten that those regions which are the most
likely to afford remains connecting man with some extinct ape-like
creature, have not as yet been searched by geologists.
In attempting to trace the genealogy of the Mammalia, and therefore of
man, lower down in the series, we become involved in greater and greater
obscurity; but as a most capable judge, Mr. Parker, has remarked, we have
good reason to believe that no true bird or reptile intervenes in the direct
line of descent.
ORIGIN OF THE VERTEBRATA.
Page 158.
[The Vertebrata are defined as “the highest
division of the animal kingdom, so called from the
presence in most cases of a backbone composed of numerous joints or
vertebræ, which constitutes the center of the skeleton and at the same time
supports and protects the central parts of the nervous system.”]
Every evolutionist will admit that the five great vertebrate classes,
namely, mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, and fishes, are descended
from some one prototype; for they have much in common, especially during
their embryonic state. As the class of fishes is the most lowly organized,
and appeared before the others, we may conclude that all the members of
the vertebrate kingdom are derived from some fish-like animal. The belief
that animals so distinct as a monkey, an elephant, a hummingbird, a snake, a
frog, and a fish, etc., could all have sprung from the same parents, will
appear monstrous to those who have not attended to the recent progress of
natural history. For this belief implies the former existence of links binding
closely together all these forms, now so utterly unlike.
Nevertheless, it is certain that groups of animals have existed, or do
now exist, which serve to connect several of the great vertebrate classes
more or less closely. We have seen that the Ornithorhynchus graduates
toward reptiles; and Professor Huxley has discovered, and is confirmed by
Mr. Cope and others, that the Dinosaurians are in many important
characters intermediate between certain reptiles and certain birds—the birds
referred to being the ostrich-tribe (itself evidently a widely-diffused
remnant of a larger group) and the Archeopteryx, that strange Secondary
bird, with a long, lizard-like tail. Again, according to Professor Owen, the
Ichthyosaurians—great sea-lizards furnished with paddles—present many
affinities with fishes, or rather, according to Huxley, with amphibians; a
class which, including in its highest division frogs and toads, is plainly
allied to the Ganoid fishes. These latter fishes swarmed during the earlier
geological periods, and were constructed on what is called a generalized
type, that is, they presented diversified affinities with other groups of
organisms. The Lepidosiren is also so closely allied to amphibians and
fishes that naturalists long disputed in which of these two classes to rank it;
it, and also some few Ganoid fishes have been preserved from utter
extinction by inhabiting rivers, which are harbors of refuge, and are related
to the great waters of the ocean in the same way that islands are to
continents.
Lastly, one single member of the immense and diversified class of
fishes, namely, the lancelet or amphioxus, is so different from all other
fishes, that Häckel maintains that it ought to form a distinct class in the
vertebrate kingdom. This fish is remarkable for its negative characters; it
can hardly be said to possess a brain, vertebral column, or heart, etc., so that
it was classed by the older naturalists among the worms. Many years ago
Professor Goodsir perceived that the lancelet presented some affinities with
the Ascidians, which are invertebrate, hermaphrodite, marine creatures
permanently attached to a support. They hardly appear like animals, and
consist of a simple, tough, leathery sack, with two small projecting orifices.
They belong to the Molluscoida of Huxley—a lower division of the great
kingdom of the Mollusca; but they have recently been placed by some
naturalists among the Vermes or worms. Their larvæ somewhat resemble
tadpoles in shape, and have the power of swimming freely about. M.
Kovalevsky has lately observed that the larvæ of Ascidians are related to
the Vertebrata, in their manner of development, in the relative position of
the nervous system, and in possessing a structure closely like the chorda
dorsalis of vertebrate animals; and in this he has been since confirmed by
Professor Kupffer.
* * * * *
Page 160. Thus, if we may rely on embryology, ever the
safest guide in classification, it seems that we have at
last gained a clew to the source whence the Vertebrata were derived. We
should then be justified in believing that at an extremely remote period a
group of animals existed, resembling in many respects the larvæ of our
present Ascidians, which diverged into two great branches—the one
retrograding in development and producing the present class of Ascidians,
the other rising to the crown and summit of the animal kingdom by giving
birth to the Vertebrata.
Page 164.
The most ancient progenitors in the kingdom of
the Vertebrata, at which we are able to obtain an
obscure glance, apparently consisted of a group of marine animals,
resembling the larvæ of existing Ascidians. These animals probably gave
rise to a group of fishes, as lowly organized as the lancelet; and from these
the Ganoids, and other fishes like the Lepidosiren, must have been
developed. From such fish a very small advance would carry us on to the
Amphibians. We have seen that birds and reptiles were once intimately
connected together; and the Monotremata now connect mammals with
reptiles in a slight degree. But no one can at present say by what line of
descent the three higher and related classes, namely, mammals, birds, and
reptiles, were derived from the two lower vertebrate classes, namely,
amphibians and fishes. In the class of mammals the steps are not difficult to
conceive which led from the ancient Monotremata to the ancient
Marsupials; and from these to the early progenitors of the placental
mammals. We may thus ascend to the Lemuridæ; and the interval is not
very wide from these to the Simiadæ. The Simiadæ then branched off into
two great stems, the New World and Old World monkeys; and from the
latter, at a remote period, Man, the wonder and glory of the universe,
proceeded.
Thus, we have given to man a pedigree of prodigious length, but not, it
may be said, of noble quality. The world, it has often been remarked,
appears as if it had long been preparing for the advent of man: and this, in
one sense, is strictly true, for he owes his birth to a long line of progenitors.
If any single link in this chain had never existed, man would not have been
exactly what he now is. Unless we willfully close our eyes, we may, with
our present knowledge, approximately recognize our parentage; nor need
we feel ashamed of it. The most humble organism is something much
higher than the inorganic dust under our feet; and no one with an unbiased
mind can study any living creature, however humble, without being struck
with enthusiasm at its marvelous structure and properties.
Page 174.
But the most weighty of all the arguments
against treating the races of man as distinct species
is, that they graduate into each other, independently, in many cases, as far as
we can judge, of their having intercrossed. Man has been studied more
carefully than any other animal, and yet there is the greatest possible
diversity among capable judges whether he should be classed as a single
species or race, or as two (Virey), as three (Jacqninot), as four (Kant), five
(Blumenbach), six (Buffon), seven (Hunter), eight (Agassiz), eleven
(Pickering), fifteen (Bory St. Vincent), sixteen (Desmoulins), twenty-two
(Morton), sixty (Crawfurd), or as sixty-three, according to Burke. This
diversity of judgment does not prove that the races ought not to be ranked
as species, but it shows that they graduate into each other, and that it is
hardly possible to discover clear, distinctive characters between them.
Every naturalist who has had the misfortune to undertake the
description of a group of highly-varying organisms, has encountered cases
(I speak after experience) precisely like that of man; and, if of a cautious
disposition, he will end by uniting all the forms which graduate into each
other under a single species; for he will say to himself that he has no right
to give names to objects which he can not define. Cases of this kind occur
in the order which includes man, namely, in certain genera of monkeys;
while in other genera, as in Cercopithecus, most of the species can be
determined with certainty. In the American genus Cebus, the various forms
are ranked by some naturalists as species, by others as mere geographical
races. Now, if numerous specimens of Cebus were collected from all parts
of South America, and those forms which at present appear to be
specifically distinct were found to graduate into each other by close steps,
they would usually be ranked as mere varieties or races; and this course has
been followed by most naturalists with respect to the races of man.
Page 180.
From the fundamental differences between
certain languages, some philologists have inferred
that when man first became widely diffused, he was not a speaking animal;
but it may be suspected that languages, far less perfect than any now
spoken, aided by gestures, might have been used, and yet have left no traces
on subsequent and more highly-developed tongues. Without the use of some
language, however imperfect, it appears doubtful whether man’s intellect
could have risen to the standard implied by his dominant position at an
early period.
Whether primeval man, when he possessed but few arts, and those of
the rudest kind, and when his power of language was extremely imperfect,
would have deserved to be called man, must depend on the definition which
we employ. In a series of forms graduating insensibly from some ape-like