nderstand
the historical development of Darwin's anthropology one must read his
life and the introduction to "The Descent of Man". From the moment that
he was convinced of the truth of the principle of descent--that is to
say, from his thirtieth year, in 1838--he recognised clearly that
man could not be excluded from its range. He recognised as a logical
necessity the important conclusion that "man is the co-descendant with
other species of some ancient, lower, and extinct form." For many years
he gathered notes and arguments in support of this thesis, and for the
purpose of showing the probable line of man's ancestry. But in the first
edition of "The Origin of Species" (1859) he restricted himself to the
single line, that by this work "light would be thrown on the origin of
man and his history." In the fifty years that have elapsed since that
time the science of the origin and nature of man has made astonishing
progress, and we are now fairly agreed in a monistic conception of
nature that regards the whole universe, including man, as a wonderful
unity, governed by unalterable and eternal laws. In my philosophical
book "Die Weltratsel" (1899) ("The Riddle of the Universe", London,
1900.) and in the supplementary volume "Die Lebenswunder" (1904) "The
Wonders of Life", London, (1904.), I have endeavoured to show that this
pure monism is securely established, and that the admission of the
all-powerful rule of the same principle of evolution throughout the
universe compels us to formulate a single supreme law--the all-embracing
"Law of Substance," or the united laws of the constancy of matter and
the conservation of energy. We should never have reached this supreme
general conception if Charles Darwin--a "monistic philosopher" in
the true sense of the word--had not prepared the way by his theory of
descent by natural selection, and crowned the great work of his life by
the association of this theory with a naturalistic anthropology.

IX. SOME PRIMITIVE THEORIES OF THE ORIGIN OF MAN.

By J.G. FRAZER. Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.

On a bright day in late autumn a good many years ago I had ascended the
hill of Panopeus in Phocis to examine the ancient Greek fortifications
which crest its brow. It was the first of November, but the weather was
very hot; and when my work among the ruins was done, I was glad to
rest under the shade of a clump of fine holly-oaks, to inhale the sweet
refreshing perfume of the wild thym