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Creation and Its Records by Baden-Powell, Baden Henry - CHAPTER VII.

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Creation and Its Records

CHAPTER VII.

_THE DE­SCENT OF MAN_.

We now ap­proach a spe­cial ob­jec­tion which al­ways, has been (and I shall be par­doned, per­haps, for say­ing _al­ways will be_) the _crux_ of the the­ory of un­aid­ed, un­cre­at­ed evo­lu­tion--the ad­vent of rea­son­ing, and not on­ly rea­son­ing, but self-​con­scious and God-​con­scious MAN.

Here again the lines of ar­gu­ment are so nu­mer­ous, and the de­tails in­to which we might go so var­ied, that a rigid and per­haps bald se­lec­tion of a few top­ics is all that can be at­tempt­ed.

But I may re­mark that nat­ural­ists are far from be­ing agreed on this part of the sub­ject. Agas­siz re­jects the evo­lu­tion of man al­to­geth­er. Mr. St. G. Mi­vart, while part­ly ad­mit­ting, as ev­ery one else now does, the doc­trine of evo­lu­tion, de­nies the de­scent of man. Mr. Wal­lace, the great apos­tle of evo­lu­tion, op­pos­es Dar­win, and will have none of his views on the de­scent of man; and Pro­fes­sor Hux­ley him­self says that, while the re­sem­blance of struc­ture is such that if any “pro­cess of phys­ical cau­sa­tion can be dis­cov­ered by which the gen­era and fam­ilies of or­di­nary an­imals have been pro­duced, the pro­cess of cau­sa­tion is am­ply suf­fi­cient to ac­count for the ori­gin of man,” still he ad­mits that the gulf is vast be­tween civ­ilized man and brutes, and he is cer­tain that “whether _from_ them or not, man is as­sured­ly not _of_ them.”

The first dif­fi­cul­ty I shall men­tion is, how­ev­er, a struc­tural one. Sup­pos­ing that an ape-​like an­ces­tor de­vel­oped in­to man, on the prin­ci­ples of nat­ural se­lec­tion; then his de­vel­op­ment has tak­en place in a man­ner di­rect­ly con­trary to the ac­knowl­edged law of nat­ural se­lec­tion. He has de­vel­oped back­wards; his frame is in ev­ery way weak­er; he is want­ing in agili­ty; he has lost the pre­hen­sile feet; he has lost teeth fit­ted for fight­ing or crush­ing or tear­ing; he has but lit­tle sense of smell; he has lost the hairy cov­er­ing, and is obliged to help him­self by clothes.[1] If this loss was or­na­men­tal it is quite un­like any oth­er de­vel­op­ment in this re­spect, since no oth­er crea­ture has the same; for or­na­men­tal pur­pos­es the fur be­comes coloured, spot­ted, and striped, but not lost. It is easy to re­ply that man be­ing _in­tel­li­gent_, his brain pow­er en­ables him to in­vent clothes, arms, im­ple­ments, and so forth, which not on­ly sup­ply all de­fi­cien­cies of struc­ture, but give him a great su­pe­ri­or­ity over all crea­tures. But how did he get that in­tel­li­gence? By what nat­ural pro­cess of cau­sa­tion (with­out in­tel­li­gent di­rec­tion) is it con­ceiv­able that, giv­en a species of mon­key, all at once and at a cer­tain stage, struc­tural de­vel­op­ment should have been re­tard­ed and ac­tu­al­ly re­versed, and a de­vel­op­ment of brain struc­ture alone set in? Nor, be it ob­served, has any trace of _man_ with a rudi­men­ta­ry brain ev­er been dis­cov­ered. Sav­ages have brains far in ex­cess of their re­quire­ments, and can con­se­quent­ly be ed­ucat­ed and im­proved. The skull of a pre­his­toric man found in the Ne­an­derthal near Dus­sel­dorf is of av­er­age brain ca­pac­ity, show­ing that in those re­mote ages man was very much in ca­pac­ity what he is at present.

[Foot­note 1: It is re­mark­able that the loss of the hairy cov­er­ing is most com­plete when it is most want­ed: the back, the spine, and the shoul­ders are in near­ly all races un­pro­tect­ed; and yet the want of a cov­er­ing from the heat or cold is such that the rud­est sav­ages have in­vent­ed some kind of cloak for the back.]

It must, how­ev­er, be ad­mit­ted that the spe­cial dif­fi­cul­ties of the ori­gin of man are not pure­ly struc­tural. We do not know enough of the Di­vine plan to be able to un­der­stand why it is that there is a cer­tain un­de­ni­able uni­ty of form, in the two eyes, ears, mouth, limbs and or­gans gen­er­al­ly of the an­imal and man. More­over, much is made of the fact, as stat­ed by a re­cent “Ed­in­burgh Re­view­er,” that “the phys­ical dif­fer­ence be­tween man and the low­est ape is tri­fling com­pared with that which ex­ists be­tween the low­est ape and any brute an­imal that is not an ape.[1]” This fact no doubt neg­atives the idea put for­ward by Bish­op Tem­ple and oth­ers, that if there was an evo­lu­tion of man, it must have been in a spe­cial branch which was fore­seen and com­menced very far back in the scale of or­gan­ic be­ing. For the struc­tural dif­fer­ence might not re­quire such a sep­arate ori­gin; while the men­tal dif­fer­ence, af­ford­ing ob­jec­tions of a dif­fer­ent class, will not al­low of _any_ such evo­lu­tion at all. That there is _some_ con­nec­tion be­tween man and the an­imal can­not be de­nied, and con­se­quent­ly, in the ab­sence of fuller in­for­ma­tion, very lit­tle would be gained by in­sist­ing on the pure­ly _phys­ical_ de­vel­op­ment ques­tion. The Bible states pos­itive­ly that the man Adam (as the pro­gen­itor of a par­tic­ular race, at any rate) was a sep­arate and ac­tu­al pro­duc­tion, on a giv­en part of the earth's sur­face. All that we need con­clude re­gard­ing that is that there is noth­ing known which en­ti­tles us to say, “This is not a fact, and there­fore is not gen­uine rev­ela­tion.”

[Foot­note 1: No. 331, Ju­ly, 1885, p. 223.]

More­over, as to the ques­tion of the pos­si­bil­ity of hu­man de­vel­op­ment gen­er­al­ly, there are cer­tain con­sid­er­ations which di­rect­ly sup­port our be­lief. For ex­am­ple, di­rect­ly we look to the char­ac­ter­is­tic point, the gift of in­tel­lect, we can rea­son­ably ar­gue that the ac­tion of a Cre­ator is in­dis­pens­able. The en­trance of con­scious­ness and of rea­son, how­ev­er el­emen­tary, marks some­thing out of all anal­ogy with the de­vel­op­ment of phys­ical struc­ture, just as much as the en­trance of Life marked a new de­par­ture in no anal­ogy with the “prop­er­ties” of in­or­gan­ic mat­ter.

From the first dawn of what looks like _will_ and _choice_ be­tween two things, and some­thing like a _rea­son_ which di­rects the course of the or­gan­ism in a par­tic­ular way for a par­tic­ular ob­ject, we have an al­to­geth­er new de­par­ture. The dif­fi­cul­ty com­mences at the out­set, and even in the an­imal cre­ation; it is mere­ly con­tin­ued and ren­dered more strik­ing when we take in­to con­sid­er­ation the high­er de­vel­op­ment of in­tel­lect in­to pow­er of ab­stract rea­son­ing, self-​con­scious­ness and God-​con­scious­ness.

It is per­fect­ly true that the dif­fer­ence be­tween the “in­stinct” of an­imals and the rea­son and mind of man, is one of de­gree rather than kind. As Chris­tians, we have no ob­jec­tion what­ev­er to a de­vel­op­ment of rea­son from the low­est rea­son sole­ly con­cerned with earth­ly and bod­ily af­fairs to the high­est pow­ers search­ing in­to deep and spir­itu­al truths. But such a de­vel­op­ment, though it is par­al­lel to a phys­ical de­vel­op­ment--as spir­itu­al law ap­pears to be al­ways par­al­lel (as far as the na­ture of things per­mits) to phys­ical laws--still is a de­vel­op­ment which can­not un­der any pos­si­ble cir­cum­stances dis­pense with an ex­ter­nal spir­itu­al or­der of ex­is­tence, and one which can­not be phys­ical­ly caused. Nor is it con­ceiv­able that man should de­vel­op a con­scious­ness of God, when no God re­al­ly ex­ists ex­ter­nal­ly to the con­scious­ness.[1]

[Foot­note 1: For our con­scious­ness of God is ob­vi­ous­ly very dif­fer­ent from a fig­ment of the imag­ina­tion, or the sort of re­al­ity ex­pe­ri­enced in a dream. This is not the place to de­vel­op such an ar­gu­ment, but it seems to me more than doubt­ful whether we can even _imag­ine_ some­thing _ab­so­lute­ly_ non-​ex­is­tent in na­ture. When the artist's imag­ina­tion would con­struct, e.g., a winged drag­on, the con­cept is al­ways made up of _parts which are re­al_--eyes like an al­li­ga­tor, bat-​wings, scales of a fish or crocodile, and so forth. All the mem­bers or parts are re­al, put to­geth­er to form the un­re­al. I do not be­lieve that any in­stance of a hu­man con­cep­tion can be brought for­ward which on anal­ysis will not con­form to this rule.]

The main ob­jec­tion, then, that I would press is, that ad­mit­ting any pos­si­bil­ity of the de­vel­op­ment of man from a pure­ly phys­ical and struc­tural point of view, ad­mit­ting any in­fer­ence that may be drawn fair­ly from the un­doubt­ed con­nec­tion (in­creas­ing­ly great as it is as we go up­wards from the low­er an­imal to the ape) be­tween an­imals and man, that in­fer­ence nev­er can touch the de­scent of man as a whole; be­cause no sim­ilar­ity of bod­ily struc­ture can get over the dif­fi­cul­ty of the men­tal pow­er of man. We have to deal not with a part of man, but with the whole. The dif­fi­cul­ty can­not be got over by deny­ing _mind_ as a thing _per se_; for all at­tempts to rep­re­sent mind as the _mere_ prod­uct of a phys­ical struc­ture, the brain, ut­ter­ly fail.

No­body wish­es to de­ny what Dr. H. Maud­sley and oth­ers have made so plain to us, that mind has (in one as­pect, at any rate) a phys­ical ba­sis--that is, that no thought, imag­ina­tion, or com­bi­na­tion of thought, is known to us _apart from_ change and ex­pen­di­ture of en­er­gy in the brain. Nor can we, by any pro­cess of in­tro­spec­tion or ob­ser­va­tion of oth­er sub­jects, sep­arate the mind from the brain and as­cer­tain the ex­is­tence of “pure mind,” or soul, ex­per­imen­tal­ly. But still, there is no pos­si­bil­ity of get­ting the op­er­ations of mind out of mere cell struc­ture, un­less an ex­ter­nal Pow­er has added the mind pow­er, as a fac­ul­ty of His en­dow­ing; then He may be al­lowed to have con­nect­ed that fac­ul­ty ev­er so mys­te­ri­ous­ly with phys­ical struc­ture; we are con­tent. And I must in­sist on the to­tal fail­ure of all anal­ogy be­tween the de­vel­op­ment of bones or mus­cles and the de­vel­op­ment of mind; and even if we grant a cer­tain stage of in­stinct to have arisen, we are still in the dark as to how that could de­vel­op in­to in­tel­lect such as man pos­sess­es, in­clud­ing a be­lief in God. On this sub­ject let us hear Pro­fes­sor All­man. Be­tween a de­vel­op­ment of ma­te­ri­al struc­ture and a de­vel­op­ment of in­tel­lec­tu­al and moral fea­tures, the Pro­fes­sor says, “there is no con­ceiv­able anal­ogy; and the ob­vi­ous and con­tin­uous path, which we have hith­er­to fol­lowed up, in our rea­son­ings from the phe­nom­ena of life­less mat­ter to those of liv­ing form, here comes sud­den­ly to an end. The chasm be­tween _un­con­scious_ life and _thought_ is deep and im­pass­able, and no tran­si­tion­al phe­nom­ena are to be found by which, as by a bridge, we can span it over.[1]”

There can be _life_ or _func­tion_ with­out _con­scious­ness_ or _thought;_ there­fore, even if we go so far as to ad­mit that life is on­ly a prop­er­ty of pro­to­plasm, there can be no ground for say­ing that _thought_ is on­ly a prop­er­ty of pro­to­plasm.

[Foot­note 1: British As­so­ci­ation Ad­dress.]

“If,” says Pro­fes­sor All­man, “we were to ad­mit that ev­ery liv­ing cell were a con­scious and think­ing thing, are we there­fore jus­ti­fied in as­sert­ing that its con­scious­ness with its ir­ri­tabil­ity is a prop­er­ty of the mat­ter of which it is com­posed? The sole ar­gu­ment on which this view is made to rest is anal­ogy. It is ar­gued that be­cause the life phe­nom­ena, which are in­vari­ably found in the cell, must be re­gard­ed as a prop­er­ty of the cell, the phe­nom­ena of con­scious­ness by which they are ac­com­pa­nied must al­so be so re­gard­ed. The weak point in the ar­gu­ment is the ab­sence of all anal­ogy be­tween the things com­pared: and as the con­clu­sion rests sole­ly on the ar­gu­ment from anal­ogy, the two must fall to the ground to­geth­er.”

Try and as­sign to mat­ter all the prop­er­ties you can think of, its im­pen­etra­bil­ity, ex­ten­sion, weight, in­er­tia, elas­tic­ity, and so forth, by no pro­cess of thought (as Mr. Jus­tice Fry ob­serves in an ar­ti­cle in “The Con­tem­po­rary Re­view [1]”) can you get out of them an ad­equate ac­count of the phe­nom­ena of mind or spir­it. We just now ob­served that con­scious­ness, thought, and so forth, are nev­er ex­hib­it­ed apart from the ac­tion of the brain; some change in the brain ac­com­pa­nies them all. We do not de­ny that. But it is ob­vi­ous that thought be­ing man­ifest­ed in the pres­ence of cere­bral mat­ter or some­thing like it, is a very dif­fer­ent thing from thought be­ing a _prop­er­ty_ of such mat­ter, in the sense in which po­lar­ity is the prop­er­ty of a mag­net, or ir­ri­tabil­ity of liv­ing pro­to­plasm.

[Foot­note 1: Oc­to­ber, 1880, p. 587.]

To all this I have seen no an­swer. The way in which the op­po­nents of Chris­tian be­liefs meet such con­sid­er­ations ap­pears to be to ig­nore or min­imize them, so as to pass over to what seems to them a sat­is­fac­to­ry if not an easy se­ries of tran­si­tions. If Life is af­ter all on­ly a “prop­er­ty” of mat­ter, then giv­en life, a brain may be pro­duced; and as mind is al­ways man­ifest­ed in the pres­ence of (and ap­par­ent­ly in­dis­sol­ubly unit­ed with) brain struc­ture, it is not a much greater leap to ac­cept _life_ as a prop­er­ty of _mat­ter_ than it is to take _thought_ as a prop­er­ty of a cer­tain _spe­cial­ized phys­ical struc­ture_. It is true that the dis­tance is great be­tween the in­stinct of an an­imal and the ab­stract rea­son­ing pow­er of a New­ton or a Her­bert Spencer; but (as we are so of­ten told) the dif­fer­ence is of de­gree not of kind, and as the brain struc­ture de­vel­ops, so does the pow­er and de­gree of rea­son. As to the dif­fer­ence in man, that he is the on­ly “re­li­gious” an­imal--the one crea­ture that has the idea of God--that is a mere de­vel­op­ment of the emo­tions in con­nec­tion with ab­stract rea­son­ing as to the cause of things. No part of our men­tal na­ture is more com­mon to the an­imal and the man than the emo­tion­al; and if in the one it is mere love and ha­tred, joy and grief, con­fi­dence and fear, in the oth­er the emo­tions are de­vel­oped in­to the po­et­ic sense of beau­ty, or the awe felt for what is grand and no­ble; and this in­sen­si­bly pass­es in­to _wor­ship_, the root of the whole be­ing fear of the un­known and the mys­te­ri­ous. That is the gen­er­al line of ar­gu­ment tak­en up.

Even ac­cept­ing the so­lu­tion (if such it maybe called) of the two first dif­fi­cul­ties--life added spon­ta­neous­ly or abo­rig­inal­ly to mat­ter, and thought and con­scious­ness added to or­gan­ism--still the rest of the path is by no means so easy as might at the first glance ap­pear. De­vel­op­ment in brain struc­ture cer­tain­ly does not al­ways pro­ceed _pari pas­su_ with a high­er and more com­plex rea­son­ing. In ac­tu­al fact we find high “rea­son­ing” pow­er, quite un­ex­pect­ed­ly here and there, up and down the an­imal king­dom. Some _in­sects_, with very lit­tle that can be called a brain at all, ex­hib­it high in­tel­li­gence; and some an­imals with small­er brains are more docile and in­tel­li­gent than oth­ers with a much larg­er de­vel­op­ment. The ape, in spite of his close phys­ical ap­proach to the struc­ture of man, and his still greater rel­ative dis­tance from the oth­er an­imal cre­ation, is not su­pe­ri­or (if he is not de­cid­ed­ly in­fe­ri­or) in rea­son or in­tel­li­gence to sev­er­al an­imals low­er down in the scale.

Sav­ages, again, have a brain great­ly in ex­cess of their ac­tu­al re­quire­ments (so to speak). Hence the mere ex­is­tence of brain, how­ev­er com­plex, does not in­di­cate the pos­ses­sion of men­tal pow­er.

There is rea­son to be­lieve that all thought and ex­er­cise of the mind--in fact, ev­ery step in the pro­cess of “Ed­uca­tion,” where­by an ig­no­rant per­son is brought at last to ap­pre­hend the most ab­stract propo­si­tions--is ac­com­pa­nied by some molec­ular (or oth­er) change. So that a per­son who has been care­ful­ly ed­ucat­ed has the brain in a dif­fer­ent state from that of an ex­act­ly sim­ilar­ly con­sti­tut­ed per­son whose brain has been sub­ject­ed to no such ex­er­cise. But even if this ac­tion could be for­mu­lat­ed and ex­plained, it would not fol­low that thought is the _prod­uct_ of the molec­ular change; or that, _vice ver­sâ_, if we could ar­ti­fi­cial­ly pro­duce cer­tain changes, in the brain, cer­tain thoughts and per­cep­tions would there­on co­ex­ist with the changes, and arise in the mind of the sub­ject forth­with. And if not, then no pro­cess of phys­ical de­vel­op­ment ac­counts for grades of in­tel­lect; we have on­ly mind de­vel­op­ing as mind. But the the­ory of evo­lu­tion will have noth­ing to do with any de­vel­op­ment but phys­ical; or at any rate with men­tal de­vel­op­ment ex­cept as the re­sult of phys­ical: it knows noth­ing of pure mind, or spir­itu­al ex­is­tence, or any­thing of the sort.

In the na­ture of things we can have nei­ther ob­ser­va­tion nor ex­per­iment in this stage. We can­not by any pro­cess de­vel­op the low­er mind of an an­imal in­to the high­er mind of man, and prove the steps of the evo­lu­tion.[1] It is im­por­tant to re­mem­ber that the pow­er of _di­rect­ing the at­ten­tion by a vol­un­tary pro­cess of ab­strac­tion_, is one that dis­tinc­tive­ly be­longs to man. It is an ef­fort of will, of a kind that no an­imal has any ca­pac­ity for. By it alone have we any pow­er of ab­stract rea­son­ing, and it is in­ti­mate­ly con­cerned with our self-​con­scious­ness and mem­ory, and with our lan­guage. I am quite aware that an­imals pos­sess some­thing anal­ogous to a lan­guage of their own; they can in­di­cate cer­tain emo­tions and give warn­ing, and so forth, to their fel­lows. But that lan­guage could nev­er de­vel­op in­to hu­man lan­guage, or the an­imal will (such as it is) ev­er rise to a hu­man will, or an­imals be­come en­dowed with self-​con­scious­ness, un­less they could ac­quire the pow­er of vol­un­tar­ily ab­stract­ing the mind from one sub­ject or part of a sub­ject and fix­ing the at­ten­tion on an­oth­er. We can­not for­mu­late any pro­cess of change where­by the low­er state could pass on to or at­tain to the high­er in this re­spect.

[Foot­note 1: We can of course fol­low the sort of men­tal de­vel­op­ment which is trace­able when we con­sid­er the ori­gin of our own saga­cious and faith­ful dogs in the wild prairie dog: but this de­vel­op­ment is al­ways in con­tact with the mind of man, and is, as it were, the re­sult of man's ac­tion, as man's de­vel­op­ment in mind and soul is the re­sult of God's ac­tion.]

There­fore again we con­clude that the high­er rea­son is a gift _ab ex­ter­no_.

If we take a step fur­ther to the “spir­itu­al” or “moral” fac­ul­ties of man, we have the same dif­fi­cul­ty in­ten­si­fied, if in­deed it does take a new de­par­ture. To ex­am­ine the ques­tion ad­equate­ly would re­quire us to go in­to the deep wa­ters of psy­chol­ogy; and here we should en­counter many mat­ters re­gard­ing which there may be le­git­imate doubt and dif­fer­ence of opin­ion, which would ob­scure and lead us away from our main line of thought.

This I would will­ing­ly avoid. But it is quite in­tel­li­gi­ble, and touch­es on no dan­ger­ous ground, when we as­sert that there is a dis­tinct as­cent--an in­ter­val again rais­ing de­vel­op­men­tal dif­fi­cul­ties, di­rect­ly we pass from the in­tel­lec­tu­al to the moral. We may won­der at the high de­gree of in­tel­li­gence pos­sessed by some an­imals; but we are un­able to con­ceive any an­imal pos­sess­ing a pow­er of ab­stract rea­son­ing, hav­ing ideas of beau­ty (as such), or of man­ifest­ing what we call the po­et­ic feel­ing. And still more is this so when we look at the fur­ther in­ter­val that lies be­tween any per­cep­tion of phys­ical phe­nom­ena, any rea­son­ing in the ab­stract, or in­ves­ti­ga­tion of math­emat­ical truth, and the over­mas­ter­ing sense of obli­ga­tion to the “moral law,” or the ac­tion of the soul in its in­stinc­tive pos­ses­sion of the con­cep­tion of a Di­vine Ex­is­tence ex­ter­nal to it­self. It is be­cause of this felt dif­fer­ence that we talk of the “spir­itu­al” as some­thing be­yond and above the “men­tal.”

The dis­tinc­tion is re­al, though we must not al­low our­selves to be led too far in at­tempt­ing to scan the close union that, from an­oth­er point of view, ex­ists be­tween the one and the oth­er.

In a re­cent num­ber of “The Ed­in­burgh Re­view,[1]” the au­thor com­plains of Bish­op Tem­ple thus: “He us­es the word spir­itu­al in such a way that he might be tak­en to im­ply that we had some oth­er fac­ul­ty for the per­cep­tion of moral truths, in ad­di­tion to, and dis­tinct from, our rea­son.” And the writ­er goes on to make an “un­com­pro­mis­ing as­ser­tion of rea­son as the one supreme fac­ul­ty of man. To de­pre­ci­ate rea­son (he says) to the prof­it of some sup­posed 'moral' illa­tive sense, would be to open the door to the most des­olat­ing of all scep­ti­cisms, and to sub­or­di­nate the ba­sis of our high­est in­tel­lec­tu­al pow­er to some mere fig­ment of the imag­ina­tion.”

[Foot­note 1: Ju­ly, 1885, p. 211, in the course of the ar­ti­cle to which I have al­ready al­lud­ed.]

On the oth­er hand, some writ­ers (claim­ing to de­rive their ar­gu­ment from the Scrip­tures) have sup­posed they could as­sert three dis­tinct na­tures in man--a spir­itu­al, a men­tal (or psy­chic), and a bod­ily. Now there is no doubt that, right­ly or wrong­ly (I am not now con­cerned with that), the Bible does dis­tinct­ly as­sert that a “breath of lives” [1] was spe­cial­ly put in­to the bod­ily form of man, and adds that there­by “man be­came a liv­ing soul.” But it is al­so stat­ed of the an­imal cre­ation that the breath of life was giv­en to them,[2] and an­imals are said to have a “soul” (nephesh).[3] So that nei­ther in the one case nor the oth­er have we more than the two el­ements: a body, and a life put in­to it; though of course the man's “life” (as the plu­ral in­di­cates, and oth­er texts ex­plain) was high­er in kind than that of the an­imal.

[Foot­note 1: The plu­ral of ex­cel­lence ap­pears to mark some­thing su­pe­ri­or in the spir­it of man over that of the an­imals. Al­so com­pare Job xxxi­ii. 4, “The breath of the Almighty hath giv­en me life,” with Isa. xlii. 5 and Zech. xii. 1.]

[Foot­note 2: Though not in the plu­ral of ex­cel­lence. See Gen. vi 17, vii. 22, &c.]

[Foot­note 3: Gen. i. 20, mar­gin of A.V.]

St. Paul, it is true, speaks of the “whole spir­it, and soul, and body.[1]” But our Lord Him­self, in a very solemn pas­sage (where it would be most nat­ural to ex­pect the dis­tinc­tion, if it were ab­so­lute and struc­tural, to be no­ticed), speaks of the “soul and body” on­ly.[2]

The fact is that we are on­ly able to ar­gue con­clu­sive­ly that, be­sides the phys­ical form, we have a non-​ma­te­ri­al soul, or a self. And our Lord, whose teach­ing was al­ways em­inent­ly prac­ti­cal, went no fur­ther. We are con­scious of a “self”--some­thing that re­mains, while the body con­tin­ual­ly grows and changes.

There was in _Punch_, some time ago, a pic­ture of an old grand­fa­ther, with a lit­tle child look­ing at a mar­ble bust rep­re­sent­ing a child. “Who is that?” asks the lit­tle one; and the old man replies, “That is grand­fa­ther when he was a lit­tle boy.” “And who is it now?” re­joins the child. One smiles at the pic­ture, but in re­al­ity it con­ceals a very im­por­tant and a very pa­thet­ic truth. Noth­ing could well be greater than the out­ward dif­fer­ence be­tween the grey hairs and bowed fig­ure and the lit­tle cherub face; and yet there was a “self”--a soul, that re­mained the same through­out. In Pla­ton­ic lan­guage, while the [Greek: ei­dôlon] per­pet­ual­ly changes, the [Greek: ei­dos] re­mains. We have, there­fore, ev­idence as pos­itive as the na­ture of the sub­ject ad­mits that we are right in speak­ing of the _body and the soul, or self_. And as we can­not con­nect the high­er rea­son­ing, and, above all, con­science and the re­li­gious be­lief, as a “prop­er­ty” of phys­ical struc­ture, we con­clude that the Scrip­ture on­ly as­serts facts when it at­tributes both to the soul, as a spir­itu­al el­ement or na­ture be­long­ing to the body. Man is es­sen­tial­ly one;[3] but there is both a ma­te­ri­al and a non-​ma­te­ri­al, a phys­ical and a spir­itu­al el­ement, in the one na­ture. But, be­ing a spir­itu­al el­ement, that part of our na­ture nec­es­sar­ily has two sides (so to speak). It has its point of con­tact with self and the world of sense, and its point of con­tact with the world of spir­it and with the Great Spir­it of all, from whom it came. _Be­cause_ of that high­er “breath of lives” giv­en by the Most High, man pos­sess­es the fac­ul­ty of _con­scious­ness of God_ (i.e., the high­er spir­itu­al fac­ul­ties), be­sides the con­scious­ness of self, or mere­ly in­tel­lec­tu­al pow­er re­gard­ing self and the ex­ter­nal world. There­fore, when an Apos­tle de­sires to speak very forcibly of some­thing that is to af­fect a man through and through, in ev­ery part and in ev­ery as­pect of his na­ture, he speaks of the “whole spir­it, soul, and body.” To sum up: all that we know from the Bible is that God gave a “soul” (nephesh) to the an­imals, in con­se­quence of which (when unit­ed to the phys­ical struc­ture) the func­tions of life and the phe­nom­ena of in­tel­li­gence are man­ifest­ed. So God gave a non-​ma­te­ri­al, and there­fore “spir­itu­al,” el­ement to hu­man na­ture; and this be­ing of a high­er grade and ca­pac­ity to that of the an­imal world, not on­ly in its union with phys­ical struc­ture, makes the man a “liv­ing soul”--gives him an in­tel­li­gence and a cer­tain rea­son such as the an­imals have, but al­so gives him, as a spe­cial and unique en­dow­ment; the con­scious­ness of self (in­volv­ing--which is very note­wor­thy--a con­scious­ness of its own lim­ita­tions) and the con­scious­ness of God. Hence man's pow­er of im­prove­ment. If the man cul­ti­vates on­ly the self-​con­scious­ness and the rea­son that is with it, the Scrip­tures speak of him as the “nat­ural or psy­chic man;” if he is en­abled by Di­vine grace to de­vel­op the high­er moral and spir­itu­al part of his na­ture, and to walk af­ter the Spir­it, not af­ter the flesh, he is a “spir­itu­al man.”

[Foot­note 1: 1 Thess. v. 23.]

[Foot­note 2: Matt. x. 28.]

[Foot­note 3: The well-​known ar­gu­ment of St. Paul re­gard­ing the res­ur­rec­tion in 1 Cor. xv. (ver. 45, &c.) is well wor­thy of con­sid­er­ation in this con­nec­tion. He deals with man as _one whole_; noth­ing is said about a man be­ing (or hav­ing) a spir­it sep­arate from his soul and his body, and that spir­it be­ing giv­en a high­er body than it had up­on earth; but of the whole man, soul _and_ body, be­ing raised and changed in­to a man, al­so one whole, with a more per­fect body--a body more high­ly de­vel­oped in the as­cend­ing scale of per­fec­tion. I do not for­get the pas­sage where the same Apos­tle (2 Cor. v. 6) speaks of be­ing in the body, and ab­sent from the Lord; and of be­ing “clothed up­on;” but this does not in any way de­tract from the im­por­tance of the treat­ment of the sub­ject in the First Epis­tle.]

It is idle to spec­ulate whether the “nephesh” of the an­imals, or the “liv­ing self” of the man, is an en­ti­ty sep­arate from the body, and ca­pa­ble of ex­ist­ing _per se_--of its own in­her­ent na­ture--apart from it. We do not know that an­imal forms are the cloth­ing of a low­er-​grad­ed but sep­arate spir­itu­al form, or that such an an­imal soul or spir­it can ex­ist sep­arate­ly from the body; and we do not _know_ (from the Bible)--what­ev­er may be the cur­rent lan­guage on the sub­ject--that man's spir­it is in its na­ture ca­pa­ble of any­thing like per­ma­nent sep­arate ex­is­tence.[1] Man is es­sen­tial­ly one; and when the phys­ical change called death pass­es over him, it does not ut­ter­ly oblit­er­ate the whole be­ing. The non-​ma­te­ri­al el­ement is not af­fect­ed any more than it is by the sleep of ev­ery night; and the man will be ul­ti­mate­ly raised, not a spir­itu­al or im­ma­te­ri­al form, but pro­vid­ed, as be­fore, with a body, on­ly one of a high­er ca­pac­ity and bet­ter adapt­ed to its high­er en­vi­ron­ments--the “spir­itu­al body” of St. Paul, in a word. The orig­inal union of mind and mat­ter is, on any pos­si­ble the­ory, mys­te­ri­ous; and the sep­ara­tion of them for a time is nei­ther less so, nor more. All this is per­fect­ly true, whether the non-​ma­te­ri­al el­ement in man's na­ture is _nec­es­sar­ily_, in­her­ent­ly and _by na­ture_, im­mor­tal or not--a ques­tion which I do not de­sire to en­ter on.

Hence it is that a cer­tain el­ement of truth is rec­og­nized in the protest of the Ed­in­burgh Re­view­er. On the oth­er hand, as we have not on­ly in­tel­li­gence, emo­tions (which are pos­sessed in low­er de­gree by an­imals), self-​con­scious­ness, the pow­er of ab­stract rea­son­ing, and the high­er fac­ul­ties of the imag­ina­tion,[2] but al­so the con­scious­ness of God and the com­mand­ing sense of right and wrong; and see­ing that the last-​named are dif­fer­ent in kind from the for­mer, we give them a sep­arate name, and speak of the moral or spir­itu­al na­ture or ca­pac­ity of man, as well as the in­tel­lec­tu­al or men­tal. Some (by the way) choose “moral” to in­clude both, hold­ing that eth­ical per­cep­tions arise out of (or are in­ti­mate­ly con­nect­ed with) our sense of God. Oth­ers would make a fur­ther dis­tinc­tion, and con­fine “moral” to the (sup­posed) bare eth­ical per­cep­tion of du­ty or of right and wrong, and add “spir­itu­al” to dis­tin­guish the high­est fac­ul­ty of all, where­by man holds com­mu­nion with his Mak­er and rec­og­nizes his re­la­tion to Him.

[Foot­note 1: This re­mark does not, of course, in any way touch the ques­tion whether the spir­itu­al part of a man is con­scious in the in­ter­val be­tween death and res­ur­rec­tion, or whether it can be made sen­si­ble in any way what­ev­er to liv­ing per­sons.]

[Foot­note 2: The po­et­ic sense, the per­cep­tion of the beau­ti­ful, &c.]

Whether this fur­ther dis­tinc­tion is jus­ti­fied or not, there is a dis­tinc­tion be­tween the moral and the pure­ly in­tel­lec­tu­al; and we are jus­ti­fied in us­ing dif­fer­ent terms for things that are _prac­ti­cal­ly_ dif­fer­ent. This the Ed­in­burgh Re­view­er seems to have for­got­ten.

It was nec­es­sary to my ar­gu­ment to en­ter on this some­what lengthy ex­am­ina­tion of the spir­itu­al na­ture of man, be­cause, while we ac­knowl­edge the uni­ty of man, we are com­pelled to rec­og­nize in his re­li­gious sense and as­pi­ra­tions and ca­pac­ities some­thing quite dis­parate--some­thing that we could not get by a nat­ural pro­cess of growth from such be­gin­nings of rea­son as are ob­served in the low­er an­imals.

I am aware that Dr. Dar­win con­ceived that the re­li­gious feel­ing of man might have grown out of the nat­ural emo­tions of fear,[1] love, grat­itude, &c., when once men be­gan to ques­tion as to the ex­pla­na­tion of the phe­nom­ena of life, and to as­cribe the forces of na­ture to the pos­ses­sion of a spir­it such as he him­self was con­scious of: and with much more pos­itive in­tent, Mr. H. Spencer has al­so, af­ter most painstak­ing in­quiries, for­mu­lat­ed what he con­ceives to be the ori­gin of re­li­gious be­lief in man. He refers us to the ear­ly be­lief in a “dou­ble” of self, which dou­ble could be pro­ject­ed out of self, and re­mained in some way af­ter death, so as to be­come the ob­ject of fear, and ul­ti­mate­ly of wor­ship. When this an­ces­tor-​wor­ship re­sult­ed in the wor­ship of a mul­ti­tude of “genii” (whose in­di­vid­ual­ity, as re­gards their for­mer earth­ly con­nec­tion, is more or less for­got­ten), then the idea of at­tach­ing the nu­mer­ous di­vini­ties or an­ces­tor-​souls to the ocean, the sky, the sun, the moun­tains, and the pow­ers of na­ture, aris­es; whence the po­et­ic sys­tems of an­cient poly­the­is­tic mythol­ogy. Grad­ual­ly men be­gan to rea­son and to think, and they re­fined the poly­the­ism in­to the “high­er” idea of one great, cen­tral, im­ma­te­ri­al all-​per­vad­ing pow­er, which they called God.

[Foot­note: 1 See the “De­scent of Man,” vol. i. p. 68 (orig­inal edi­tion). But it is right to state that the sub­ject is not treat­ed in any way what­ev­er so as to ar­gue that the re­li­gious be­lief is a fan­cy, or de­vel­op­ment of fan­cy, with no God and no facts about God be­hind it.]

Mr. Spencer, in ef­fect, con­cludes that this “God” is on­ly man's own idea of fill­ing up a blank, of ex­plain­ing the fact that there must be an ul­ti­mate first cause of what­ev­er ex­ists, and there is al­so a great source of pow­er of some kind ex­ter­nal to our­selves.[1]

I am not go­ing here to en­ter on any spe­cial ar­gu­ment as to the va­lid­ity of these the­ories in their re­la­tion to the di­rect ques­tion of the na­ture and ex­is­tence of God. What we are here con­cerned with is, whether they en­able us to ex­clude the idea of a gift and a giv­er of spir­itu­al or men­tal (we will not quar­rel about terms) na­ture to man, and whether, by any fair rea­son­ing from anal­ogy, we can sup­pose man's rea­son and his “_sen­sus nu­mi­nis_” to arise by the mere stages of nat­ural growth and de­vel­op­ment. Dr. Dar­win's sup­po­si­tion takes no no­tice of the moral law and its in­flu­ence; in­deed he adopts[2] the view that con­science is no sense of right and wrong, but on­ly the stored up and in­her­it­ed so­cial in­stinct, a sense of con­ve­nience and in­con­ve­nience to the tribe and to the in­di­vid­ual, which at last acts so spon­ta­neous­ly and rapid­ly in giv­ing its ver­dict on any­thing, that we re­gard it as a spe­cial sense. It would of course be pos­si­ble to ex­pend much time and many words in ar­gu­ment on this sub­ject. There is not, and nev­er will be, any di­rect ev­idence as to the ori­gin of con­science; and as that sense (like any oth­er pow­er of our men­tal na­ture) is ca­pa­ble of be­ing ed­ucat­ed, evoked, en­light­ened, and strength­ened, and may al­so by ne­glect and con­tra­dic­tion de­te­ri­orate and with­er away, there is am­ple room for al­low­ing a cer­tain part of the the­ory.[3] But many peo­ple who ex­am­ine their own con­science will feel that the de­scrip­tion cer­tain­ly does not suit them; there are many things which con­science dis­ap­proves, of which no great evil con­se­quences to them­selves or any one else are felt. Con­science is con­stant­ly con­demn­ing “the way that seemeth good un­to a man.” _Ul­ti­mate­ly_ no doubt, there is re­al evil at the end of ev­ery­thing that con­science warns a man against; but not such as “in­her­it­ed ex­pe­ri­ence” is like­ly to rec­og­nize. Is it, for in­stance, the ex­pe­ri­ence of the mass of men, as men, that the “flesh­ly mind is death, but the spir­itu­al mind is life and peace”? Is not rather the world at large ha­bit­ual­ly putting mon­ey-​mak­ing, po­si­tion-​mak­ing, and the care of the things of the body, of time, and of sense, in the first place; and is not the moral law per­pet­ual­ly warn­ing us that the fash­ion of the world pass­es away, and that what seems gold is in re­al­ity tin­sel? As far as the con­dem­na­tion that con­science pass­es on the broad evils which af­fect so­ci­ety--“thou shalt not steal,” “thou shalt not lie,” or so forth--no doubt it is sup­port­ed by the trans­mit­ted sense of in­con­ve­nience; but who has told it of the evil of things that do not af­fect our so­cial state? and who has changed the in­con­ve­nient, the painful, in­to the _wrong_? It is one thing to in­stinc­tive­ly avoid a theft or a false­hood, even if the first ori­gin of such in­stinct were the fear of con­se­quences or the love of ap­pro­ba­tion; it is quite an­oth­er--the in­ward con­dem­na­tion of some­thing which “the de­ceit­ful­ness of sin” is able to ex­cuse, and which the world at large would re­gard as per­mis­si­ble or at least ve­nial. Even if in­her­it­ed use has its full play, there is still a some­thing want­ed be­fore the one can be got in­to (or out of) the oth­er. Why, again, are sav­ages prone to imag­ine nat­ural phe­nom­ena to be caused or ac­tu­at­ed by “spir­its”? Sure­ly it is be­cause there _is_ con­scious­ly a spir­it in man, and a High­er Pow­er, even God, out­side, who ex­ists, though man in his ig­no­rance has many false ideas re­gard­ing Him.

[Foot­note 1: It is not nec­es­sary to my im­me­di­ate ar­gu­ment, and there­fore I do not press it in­to the text (though I should be sor­ry to seem to for­get it for a mo­ment), to urge that St. Paul draws a clear dis­tinc­tion be­tween the in­tel­lec­tu­al fac­ul­ties and the high­er spir­itu­al ones, when he as­sures us that the clear­est in­tel­lect alone can­not as­sim­ilate the truths of re­li­gion. For the spir­itu­al fac­ul­ties have been in man grievous­ly dead­ened and dis­tort­ed (to say the least of it), so that his in­tel­lec­tu­al fac­ul­ties, bright and high­ly de­vel­oped as they may be, will al­ways prove in­suf­fi­cient for the high­est life in the ab­sence of the “grace of God.” It is ex­act­ly anal­ogous to the case of a man whom we might sup­pose to have his sense of sight, touch, &c., dis­tort­ed, and he him­self un­able to cor­rect them by aid of the sens­es of oth­ers. How­ev­er acute­ly he might ex­er­cise his rea­son, he would be con­tin­ual­ly wrong in his con­clu­sions. See 1 Cor. ii., the whole, but spe­cial­ly vers. 14, 15.]

[Foot­note 2: “De­scent of Man,” vol. i. p, 70.]

[Foot­note 3: The at­tempt (al­ready al­lud­ed to) to sep­arate moral and spir­itu­al, to imag­ine some­thing that is eth­ical, apart from the re­li­gious idea, has lent some strength to these ideas of the moral sense; but in fact, the moral sense is _in­sep­ara­bly_ con­nect­ed with the idea of God, and His ap­proval and dis­ap­proval. The idea of God may be ob­scured and lost, but con­science is the sur­viv­ing trace of it; the cir­cum­fer­ence that ac­counts for the bro­ken arc.]

It is an ob­jec­tion of the same or­der that ap­plies to the oth­er the­ory (Mr. Spencer's). There can be lit­tle doubt that in many re­spects it is true: as an ac­count of all _hu­man_ sys­tems of re­li­gion it is ad­equate and nat­ural; but it breaks down hope­less­ly when we try to use it to ex­plain how the con­cep­tion of God orig­inat­ed in the mind. Just as there is a felt dif­fer­ence--not of de­gree or in form, but es­sen­tial and rad­ical in its na­ture--be­tween the _un­de­sir­able_ and the _wrong_, so there is a dif­fer­ence be­tween the idea of a mys­te­ri­ous thing to­wards which ap­pre­hen­sion or awe is felt, and the con­cep­tion of God. Grant­ed that man be­lieved in his own spir­it or dou­ble, and at­tribut­ed sim­ilar im­ma­te­ri­al mo­tor pow­ers as a cause for the wind and waves, and so forth; grant­ed that he at last “re­fined” this in­to the be­lief in one Spir­it whose pow­er was nec­es­sar­ily great and var­ied--the ori­gin is still un­ex­plained. How did man get the idea of a per­son­al spir­it or dou­ble--no such thing, _ex hy­poth­esi_ ex­ist­ing? How did he get to for­mu­late the idea of a _God_ when he had sim­pli­fied his group of many spir­its in­to one?

If man is cre­at­ed with a con­scious­ness of his own in­ner-​self, _as a self_, he is able nat­ural­ly to imag­ine a like self in oth­er be­ings; if he has an idea of God in­nate in him, he can as­sim­ilate the truth when it is at last pre­sent­ed to his mind; and that is why he feels that it _is_ a re­fine­ment; a ris­ing from the low­er to the high­er (be­cause from false­hood to truth), to let the many gods give place to the One God. If the idea of God has been ob­scured, and the pow­er of its ap­pre­hen­sion dead­ened, the man can on­ly grope about help­less­ly, fash­ion­ing this ex­pla­na­tion of na­ture and that--all more or less false, but all dim­ly bear­ing wit­ness to the two ab­so­lute facts, that there is an in­ner non-​ma­te­ri­al self, and an ex­ter­nal non-​ma­te­ri­al God.

If then there are in­su­per­able dif­fi­cul­ties in con­nect­ing thought with mat­ter by any pro­cess of un­aid­ed de­vel­op­ment, there are al­so great dif­fi­cul­ties, even when thought in a rudi­men­ta­ry form is giv­en, in con­ceiv­ing it de­vel­oped in­to man's rea­son, or man's re­li­gious be­lief, by any known pro­cess of “nat­ural” cau­sa­tion.