Evolutionary Psychology The New

Science of the Mind David M. Buss

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://textbookfull.com/product/evolutionary-psychology-the-new-science-of-the-mind
-david-m-buss/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Evolutionary Psychology 6th Edition David M Buss

https://textbookfull.com/product/evolutionary-psychology-6th-
edition-david-m-buss/

Discovering Psychology The Science of Mind 1st Edition

John Cacioppo

https://textbookfull.com/product/discovering-psychology-the-
science-of-mind-1st-edition-john-cacioppo/

Psychology The Science of Mind and Behaviour 8th

Edition Richard Gross

https://textbookfull.com/product/psychology-the-science-of-mind-
and-behaviour-8th-edition-richard-gross/

The Sage Handbook of Evolutionary Psychology

Foundations of Evolutionary Psychology 1st Edition Todd
K Shackelford Editor

https://textbookfull.com/product/the-sage-handbook-of-
evolutionary-psychology-foundations-of-evolutionary-
psychology-1st-edition-todd-k-shackelford-editor/
The Sage Handbook of Evolutionary Psychology
Applications of Evolutionary Psychology 1st Edition
Todd K Shackelford Editor

https://textbookfull.com/product/the-sage-handbook-of-
evolutionary-psychology-applications-of-evolutionary-
psychology-1st-edition-todd-k-shackelford-editor/

Psychology the Science of Mind and Behaviour 3rd

Edition Michael W. Passer

https://textbookfull.com/product/psychology-the-science-of-mind-
and-behaviour-3rd-edition-michael-w-passer/

Explanation and Integration in Mind and Brain Science

1st Edition David M. Kaplan

https://textbookfull.com/product/explanation-and-integration-in-
mind-and-brain-science-1st-edition-david-m-kaplan/

The Sage Handbook of Evolutionary Psychology

Integration of Evolutionary Psychology with Other
Disciplines 1st Edition Todd K Shackelford Editor

https://textbookfull.com/product/the-sage-handbook-of-
evolutionary-psychology-integration-of-evolutionary-psychology-
with-other-disciplines-1st-edition-todd-k-shackelford-editor/

The Psychology of Brexit From Psychodrama to

Behavioural Science Brian M. Hughes

https://textbookfull.com/product/the-psychology-of-brexit-from-
psychodrama-to-behavioural-science-brian-m-hughes/
Evolutionary Psychology

Where did we come from? What is our connection with other life forms?
What are the mechanisms of mind that define what it means to be a human
being? Evolutionary psychology is a revolutionary new science, a true
synthesis of modern principles of psychology and evolutionary biology.
Since the publication of the award-winning first edition of Evolutionary
Psychology, there has been an explosion of research within the field. In this
book, David M. Buss examines human behavior from an evolutionary
perspective, providing students with the conceptual tools needed to study
evolutionary psychology and apply them to empirical research on the
human mind. This edition contains expanded coverage of cultural evolution,
with a new section on culture–gene co-evolution, additional studies
discussing interbreeding between modern humans and Neanderthals,
expanded discussions of evolutionary hypotheses that have been empirically
disconfirmed, and much more!
Evolutionary Psychology features a wealth of student-friendly pedagogy
including critical-thinking questions and case study boxes designed to show
how to apply evolutionary psychology to real-life situations. It is also
accompanied by a thoroughly updated companion website featuring
PowerPoints for each chapter, test bank questions, and links to web resources
and videos.
Evolutionary Psychology is an invaluable resource for undergraduates
studying psychology, biology, and anthropology.
David M. Buss received his Ph.D. from the University of California at
Berkeley. He began his career in academics at Harvard, later moving to the
University of Michigan before accepting his current position as professor of
psychology at the University of Texas. His primary research interests include
human sexuality, mating strategies, conflict between the sexes, homicide,
stalking, and sexual victimization. The author of more than 300 scientific
articles and six books, Buss has won numerous awards including the
American Psychological Association (APA) Distinguished Scientific Award
for Early Career Contribution to Psychology, the APA G. Stanley Hall
Lectureship, the APA Distinguished Scientist Lecturer Award, and a Robert
W. Hamilton Book Award for the first edition of Evolutionary Psychology:
The New Science of the Mind. He is also the editor of the first comprehensive
Handbook of Evolutionary Psychology (Wiley) and co-editor (with Patricia
Hawley) of The Evolution of Personality and Individual Differences. In 2013,
he was named one of the 30 most influential living psychologists in the
world. He enjoys extensive cross-cultural research collaborations and
lectures widely within the United States and abroad. His hobbies include
tennis, squash, and disc golf, and he is an avid film buff.
Evolutionary Psychology
The New Science of the Mind

Sixth Edition

David M. Buss
Sixth edition published 2019
by Routledge
52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017

and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

© 2019, 2015, 2012, 2008 Taylor & Francis.

The right of David M. Buss to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him
in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any
form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented,
including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publishers.

Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks,

and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Buss, David M., author.
Title: Evolutionary psychology : the new science of the mind / David M. Buss.
Description: 6th Edition. | New York : Routledge, 2019. | Revised edition of
the author’s Evolutionary psychology, [2015] | Includes bibliographical references.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018057589 | ISBN 9781138088184 (hardback) | ISBN 9781138088610 (pbk.) |
ISBN 9780429061417 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Evolutionary psychology—Textbooks. | Human evolution—Textbooks.
Classification: LCC BF698.95 .B87 2019 | DDC 155—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018057589

ISBN: 978-1-138-08818-4 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-138-08861-0 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-0-429-06141-7 (ebk)

Typeset in Sabon LT Pro

by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Visit the companion website: www.routledge.com/cw/Buss

This book is dedicated to:

Charles Darwin
Francis Galton
Gregor Mendel
R. A. Fisher
W. D. Hamilton
George C. Williams
John Maynard Smith
Robert Trivers
E. O. Wilson
Richard Dawkins
Donald Symons
Martin Daly
Margo Wilson
Leda Cosmides
John Tooby

And to all students of evolutionary psychology, past, present, and future

Contents

Preface
Supplements
Acknowledgments

Part 1: Foundations of Evolutionary Psychology

1. The Scientific Movements Leading to Evolutionary Psychology
2. The New Science of Evolutionary Psychology

Part 2: Problems of Survival

3. Combating the Hostile Forces of Nature

Part 3: Challenges of Sex and Mating

4. Women’s Long-Term Mating Strategies
5. Men’s Long-Term Mating Strategies
6. Short-Term Sexual Strategies

Part 4: Challenges of Parenting and Kinship

7. Problems of Parenting
8. Problems of Kinship

Part 5: Problems of Group Living

9. Cooperative Alliances
10. Aggression and Warfare
11. Conflict Between the Sexes
12. Status, Prestige, and Social Dominance
13. Toward a Unified Evolutionary Psychology

Bibliography
Credits
Index
Preface

It is especially exciting to be an evolutionary psychologist during this time

in the history of science. Most scientists operate within long-established
paradigms. Evolutionary psychology, in contrast, is a revolutionary new
science, a true synthesis of modern principles of psychology and
evolutionary biology. By taking stock of the field at this time, I hope this
book contributes in some modest measure to the fulfillment of a scientific
revolution that will provide the foundation for psychology in the future.
Since the publication of the award-winning first edition of Evolutionary
Psychology: The New Science of the Mind, there has been an explosion of
new research within the field. New journals in evolutionary psychology have
been started, and the volume of evolutionary publications in mainstream
psychology journals has steadily increased. New courses in evolutionary
psychology are being taught in colleges and universities throughout the
world. Many gaps in scientific knowledge remain, and each new discovery
brings fresh questions and new domains to explore. The field of evolutionary
psychology is vibrant, exciting, and brimming with empirical discoveries
and theoretical innovations. Indeed, as Harvard professor Steven Pinker
notes, “In the study of humans, there are major spheres of human experience
—beauty, motherhood, kinship, morality, cooperation, sexuality, violence—in
which evolutionary psychology provides the only coherent theory” (Pinker,
2002, p. 135).
Charles Darwin must be considered the first evolutionary psychologist for
this prophesy at the end of his classic treatise On the Origin of Species
(1859): “In the distant future I see open fields for far more important
researches. Psychology will be based on a new foundation.” More than 150
years later, after some false starts and halting steps, the science of
evolutionary psychology is finally emerging. The purpose of this book is to
showcase the foundations of this new science and the fascinating discoveries
of its practitioners.
When I first started to conduct research in evolutionary psychology as an
assistant professor at Harvard University in 1981, evolutionary speculations
about humans abounded, but practically no empirical research had been
conducted to back them up. Part of the problem was that scientists who were
interested in evolutionary questions could not bridge the gap between the
grand evolutionary theories and the actual scientific study of human
behavior. Today that gap has closed considerably, because of both conceptual
breakthroughs and an avalanche of hard-won empirical achievements. Many
exciting questions still cry out for empirical scrutiny, of course, but the
existing base of findings is currently so large that the problem I faced was
how to keep this book to a reasonable length while still doing justice to the
dazzling array of theoretical and empirical insights. Although it is written
with undergraduates in mind, it is also designed to appeal to a wider
audience of laypersons, graduate students, and professionals who seek an
up-to-date overview of evolutionary psychology.
I wrote the first edition of this book with another purpose as well—
frankly, a revolutionary one. I wrote it so that the hundreds of professors at
colleges and universities throughout the world who have been thinking and
writing about evolution and human behavior would be motivated to teach
formal courses in evolutionary psychology and get those courses established
as part of required psychology curricula. Already evolutionary psychology is
attracting the best and the brightest young minds. I hope that this book
helps to accelerate the trend and in some small way contributes to the
fulfillment of Darwin’s prophesy.
New to This Edition
In revising the book for this edition, I had two goals in mind. First, I sought
to provide a major update of new discoveries. Toward this end, roughly 200
new references have been added to this edition. Second, I sought to fill in
important omissions, based on an explosion of new theories and research:

Expanded coverage of cultural evolution, with a new section on

culture–gene co-evolution.
New studies on evidence for a small amount of interbreeding between
modern humans and Neanderthals.
New large-scale studies on ovulation effects on women’s mate
preferences.
Expanded discussion of evolutionary hypotheses that have been
empirically disconfirmed.
Expanded discussion of the emotion of “disgust” as central to the
behavioral immune system and “sexual disgust” as a specific evolved
defense and links to preferred mating strategy.
Discovery of a new cue to physical attractiveness—lumbar curvature.
New findings on the emotion of sexual regret and gender differences
therein from the highly gender-egalitarian country of Norway.
Mate preferences among the semi-nomadic Himba of Namibia.
Discoveries of the effects of marriage on longevity.
Discussion of “mismatches” between ancestral and modern
environments.
Expanded discussion of theories and empirical tests of homosexuality,
bisexuality, and other sexual orientations.
Use of modern apps, such as Snapchat, to seek mating opportunities.
New discussion of the method of evolutionary computer simulations
and agent-based modeling.
Effects of physical and behavioral resemblance of child to father on
paternal investment.
New work on food aversions in pregnant women.
 Eye-tracking studies showing that dangerous predators capture our
visual attention, even in the face of visual distractions.
Study of 53 cultures reveals an effect of “burdensomeness to kin” on
suicidal ideation and suicide.
New section on accidental death.
Influence tactics children and parents use on each other.
Effects of genetic relatedness, such as full versus half-siblings, on kin
investment.
Evidence from Icelandic Vikings on causes of Viking raids and evidence
that kin protect against getting killed in raids.
Empirical refutation of a kin-based hypothesis about sexual infidelity.
New section on need-based transfers, risk pooling, and social insurance.
Use of social media and cyber-bullying in intrasexual competition.
Eye-tracking studies reveal spontaneous assessment of physical
formidability in others.
Individual difference predictors of the sexual over-perception bias.
“Dark Triad” personality traits predict sexual deception and sexual
harassment.
Massive study of 63,000 people reveals strong gender differences in
upset over sexual versus emotional infidelity among heterosexuals, but
not among those with other sexual orientations.
New study of sexual jealousy among women in Mozambique.
Women’s resistance tactics to male mate guarding.
“Death before dishonor”—the tremendous importance of social
reputation.
New study of 33 non-industrial populations reveals effects of men’s
status on a variety of reproductive outcomes.
New research on the emotions of pride and shame in status and
reputation.
New research on the importance of physical formidability in modern
status hierarchies.
Expanded section on the evolutionary psychology of religion and the
role of “Big Gods” in large-scale cooperation.

I have received many inspiring letters and e-mails from teachers and
students who have used previous editions of Evolutionary Psychology and
hope that future readers will also share their enthusiasm. The quest for
understanding the human mind is a noble undertaking. As the field of
evolutionary psychology matures, we are beginning to gain answers to the
mysteries that have probably intrigued humans for hundreds of thousands
of years: Where did we come from? What is our connection with other life
forms? And what are the mechanisms of mind that define what it means to
be a human being?
Supplements

Please visit the companion website at www.routledge.com/cw/Buss.

Acknowledgments

The acknowledgments for this book must include not only colleagues who
have directly commented on its contents but also those who have influenced
my personal evolutionary odyssey, which has spanned more than 25 years.
My interest in evolution began in an undergraduate geology class in the
mid-1970s, when I first realized that there were theories designed specifically
to explain the origins of things. My first evolutionary groping was a term
paper for a course in 1975 in which I speculated, drawing on now-laughable
primate comparisons, that the main reason men have evolved a status-
striving motive is higher status produced increased sexual opportunities.
My interest in evolution and human behavior grew when I was in
graduate school at the University of California at Berkeley, but I found the
most fertile evolutionary soil at Harvard University, which offered me a
position as Assistant Professor of Psychology. There I began teaching a
course on human motivation using evolutionary principles, although the
text scarcely mentioned evolution. My lectures were based on the works of
Charles Darwin, W. D. Hamilton, Robert Trivers, and Don Symons. I started
corresponding with Don Symons, whose 1979 book is considered by many
the first modern treatise on human evolutionary psychology. I owe Don
special thanks; his friendship and insightful commentary have informed
practically everything that I’ve written on the subject of evolutionary
psychology. Influenced by Don’s ideas, I designed my first evolutionary
research project on human mating, which eventually mushroomed into a
cross-cultural study of 10,047 participants from 37 cultures around the
world.
After word got around about my evolutionary interests, a brilliant young
Harvard graduate student named Leda Cosmides rapped on my office door
and introduced herself. We had the first of many discussions (actually
arguments) about evolution and human behavior. Leda introduced me to her
equally brilliant husband and collaborator John Tooby, and together they
tried to correct some of the more egregious errors in my thinking—
something they continue to do to this day. Through Leda and John, I met Irv
DeVore, a prominent Harvard anthropologist who conducted “simian
seminars” at his Cambridge home, and Martin Daly and Margo Wilson, who
came to Harvard on sabbatical. At that point, the early to mid-1980s, Leda
and John had not yet published anything on evolutionary psychology, and
no one was called an evolutionary psychologist.
The next pivotal event in my evolutionary quest occurred when I was
elected to be a fellow at the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral
Sciences in Palo Alto. Thanks to the encouragement of Director Gardner
Lindzey, I proposed a special center project entitled “Foundations of
Evolutionary Psychology.” The acceptance of this proposal led Leda
Cosmides, John Tooby, Martin Daly, Margo Wilson, and me to spend 1989
and 1990 at the Center working on the foundations of evolutionary
psychology, even through the earthquake that rocked the Bay area. In
writing this book, I owe the greatest intellectual debt to Leda Cosmides,
John Tooby, Don Symons, Martin Daly, and Margo Wilson, pioneers and
founders of the emerging field of evolutionary psychology.
Harvard on one coast and the Center for Advanced Study on the other
provided a bounty for budding evolutionary scholars, but I must also thank
two other institutions and their inhabitants. First, the University of Michigan
supported the evolution and human behavior group between 1986 and 1994.
I owe special thanks to Al Cain, Richard Nisbett, Richard Alexander, Robert
Axelrod, Barb Smuts, Randolph Nesse, Richard Wrangham, Bobbi Low, Kim
Hill, Warren Holmes, Laura Betzig, Paul Turke, Eugene Burnstein, and John
Mitani for playing key roles at Michigan. Second, I thank the Department of
Psychology at the University of Texas at Austin, which had the prescience to
form one of the first graduate programs in evolutionary psychology in the
world under the heading of Individual Differences and Evolutionary
Psychology. Special thanks go to Joe Horn, Dev Singh, Del Thiessen, Lee
Willerman, Peter MacNeilage, David Cohen, and the department chairs
Randy Diehl, Mike Domjan, and Jamie Pennebaker for their roles at UT.
I owe tremendous thanks to friends and colleagues who have contributed
to the ideas in this book in one form or another: Dick Alexander, Bob
Axelrod, Robin Baker, Jerry Barkow, Jay Belsky, Laura Betzig, George
Bittner, Don Brown, Eugene Burnstein, Arnold Buss, Bram Buunk, Liz
Cashdan, Nap Chagnon, Jim Chisholm, Helena Cronin, Michael
Cunningham, Richard Dawkins, Irv DeVore, Frans de Waal, Mike Domjan,
Paul Ekman, Steve Emlen, Mark Flinn, Robin Fox, Robert Frank, Steve
Gangestad, Karl Grammer, W. D. Hamilton, Kim Hill, Warren Holmes, Sarah
Hrdy, Bill Jankowiak, Doug Jones, Doug Kenrick, Lee Kirkpatrick, Judy
Langlois, Bobbi Low, Kevin MacDonald, Neil Malamuth, Janet Mann, Linda
Mealey, Geoffrey Miller, Randolph Nesse, Dick Nisbett, Steve Pinker, David
Rowe, Paul Rozin, Joanna Scheib, Paul Sherman, Irwin Silverman, Jeff
Simpson, Dev Singh, Barb Smuts, Michael Studd, Frank Sulloway, Del
Thiessen, Nancy Thornhill, Randy Thornhill, Lionel Tiger, Bill Tooke, John
Townsend, Robert Trivers, Jerry Wakefield, Lee Willerman, George Williams,
D. S. Wilson, E. O. Wilson, and Richard Wrangham.
I would like to thank the following reviewers for their feedback on the
first edition: Clifford R. Mynatt, Bowling Green State University; Richard C.
Keefe, Scottsdale College; Paul M. Bronstein, University of Michigan-Flint;
Margo Wilson, McMaster University; W. Jake Jacobs, University of Arizona;
and A. J. Figueredo, University of Arizona; as well as the reviewers for the
second edition: John A. Johnson, Penn State, DuBois; Kevin MacDonald,
California State University, Long Beach; and Todd K. Shackelford, Florida
Atlantic University. Also, a special thank you to the third edition reviewers:
Brad Duchaine, Harvard University; Heide Island, University of Central
Arkansas; Angelina Mackewn, University of Tennessee at Martin; Roger
Mellgren, University of Texas at Arlington; Amy R. Pearce, Arkansas State
University; and Thomas Sawyer, North Central College.
The creation of the second edition benefited from the exceptionally
thoughtful comments and suggestions by and discussions with a number of
friends and colleagues: Petr Bakalar, Clark Barrett, Leda Cosmides, Martin
Daly, Richard Dawkins, Todd DeKay, Josh Duntley, Mark Flinn, Barry
Friedman, Steve Gangestad, Joonghwan Jeon, Doug Kenrick, Martie
Haselton, Bill von Hippel, Rob Kurzban, Peter MacNeilage, Geoffrey Miller,
Steve Pinker, David Rakison, Kern Reeve, Paul Sherman, Valerie Stone, Larry
Sugiyama, Candace Taylor, John Tooby, Glenn Weisfeld, and Margo Wilson.
Josh Duntley must be singled out for sharing his encyclopedic knowledge
and keen insights. I would also like to thank Carolyn Merrill of Allyn &
Bacon for wise counsel, persistence, and prescience.
 I would like to thank the following individuals for help making additions
and improvements to the third edition: Leda Cosmides, Josh Duntley, Ernst
Fehr, Herbert Gintis, Anne Gordon, Ed Hagen, Martie Haselton, Joe Henrich,
Joonghwan Jeon, Mark Flinn, Barry X. Kuhle, Rob Kurzban, Dan O’Connell,
John Patton, Steve Pinker, David Rakison, Pete Richardson, Andy Thompson,
and Wade Rowatt. I would like to thank the following individuals for
insightful comments and suggestions on the fourth edition: Alice Andrews,
Ayla Arslan, Sean Bocklebank, Joseph Carroll, Elizabeth Cashdan, Lee
Cronk, John Edlund, Bruce Ellis, A. J. Figueredo, Aaron Goetz, Joe Henrich,
Sarah Hill, Russell Jackson, Peter Karl Jonason, Jeremy Koster, Barry Kuhle,
David Lewis, Frank McAndrew, David McCord, Geoffrey Miller, David
Rakison, Brad Sagarin, David Schmitt, Todd Shackelford, Candace Taylor,
and Gregory Webster. I would also like to thank my wonderful editor, Susan
Hartman, who provided support and enthusiasm throughout several editions
of this book, and my superb and meticulous production editors, Aparna
Yellai and Revathi Viswanathan.
The fifth edition benefitted from discussions with Alice Andrews, Harald
Euler, Lee Kirkpatrick, Cristine Legare, Stacey Lynn, Ara Norenzyan, David
Rakison, and Andy Thompson.
Acknowledgments for the Sixth Edition
Thanks go to my students past and present who have made major
contributions to the field of evolutionary psychology: Laith Al-Shawaf, Kelly
Asao, April Bleske, Mike Botwin, Jaime Confer, Sean Conlan, Dan Conroy-
Beam, Courtney Crosby, Todd DeKay, Josh Duntley, Judith Easton, Bruce
Ellis, Diana Fleischman, Cari Goetz, Aaron Goetz, Heidi Greiling, Arlette
Greer, Martie Haselton, Sarah Hill, Russell Jackson, Joonghwan Jeon, Barry
Kuhle, Liisa Kyl-Heku, David Lewis, Anne McGuire, Carin Perilloux, David
Schmitt, Anna Sedlacek, Todd Shackelford, and Joy Wyckoff. Special thanks
also to Kevin Daly, Todd DeKay, Josh Duntley, A. J. Figueredo, Barry Kuhle,
Martie Haselton, Rebecca Sage, Todd Shackelford, and W. Jake Jacobs for
generously providing detailed comments on the entire book.
This sixth edition benefitted especially from the detailed and thoughtful
suggestions by Dan Conroy-Beam (mating and agent-based modeling),
Patrick Durkee (status and dominance), Cristine Legare (cultural evolution),
and half a dozen anonymous reviewers. The greatest debt for this edition is
to Athena Aktipis, who generously provided extensive comments on many
chapters and greatly improved both the intellectual vibrancy and tone of
those chapters.
Part 1
Foundations of Evolutionary Psychology

Two chapters introduce the foundations of evolutionary psychology. Chapter

1 traces the scientific movements leading to evolutionary psychology. First,
we describe the landmarks in the history of evolutionary theory, starting
with theories of evolution developed before Charles Darwin and ending
with modern formulations of evolutionary theory widely accepted in the
biological sciences today. Next, we examine three common
misunderstandings about evolutionary theory. Finally, we trace landmarks
in the field of psychology, starting with the influence Darwin had on the
psychoanalytic theories of Sigmund Freud and ending with modern
formulations of cognitive psychology.
Chapter 2 provides the conceptual foundations of modern evolutionary
psychology and introduces the scientific tools used to test evolutionary
psychological hypotheses. The first section examines theories about the
origins of human nature. Then we turn to a definition of the core concept of
an evolved psychological mechanism and outline the properties of these
mechanisms. The middle portion of Chapter 2 describes the major methods
used to test evolutionary psychological hypotheses and the sources of
evidence on which these tests are based. Because the remainder of the book
is organized around human adaptive problems, the end of Chapter 2 focuses
on the tools evolutionary psychologists use to identify adaptive problems,
starting with survival and ending with the problems of group living.
Chapter 1
The Scientific Movements Leading to
Evolutionary Psychology

Learning Objectives

After studying this chapter, the reader will be able to:

◼ Identify the three essential ingredients of natural selection.

◼ Define particulate inheritance.
◼ List three common misunderstandings about evolutionary theory.
◼ Identify when Neanderthals went extinct.
◼ Explain why radical behaviorism went into scientific decline.

In the distant future I see open fields for more important researches. Psychology will be
based on a new foundation, that of the necessary acquirement of each mental power and
capacity by gradation.

—Charles Darwin (1859)

As the archeologist dusted off the dirt and debris from the skeleton, she
noticed something strange: The left side of the skull had a large dent,
apparently from a ferocious blow, and the rib cage—also on the left side—
had the head of a spear lodged in it. Back in the laboratory, scientists
determined that the skeleton was that of a Neanderthal man who had died
roughly 50,000 years ago, the earliest known homicide victim. His killer,
judging from the damage to the skull and rib cage, bore the lethal weapon in
his right hand.
 The fossil record of injuries to bones reveals two strikingly common
patterns (Jurmain et al., 2009; Trinkaus & Zimmerman, 1982; Walker, 1995).
First, the skeletons of men contain far more fractures and dents than do the
skeletons of women. Second, the injuries are located mainly on the left
frontal sides of the skulls and skeletons, suggesting mostly right-handed
attackers. The bone record alone cannot tell us with certainty that combat
among men was a central feature of human ancestral life. Nor can it tell us
with certainty that men evolved to be the more physically aggressive sex.
But skeletal remains provide clues that yield a fascinating piece of the puzzle
of where we came from, the forces that shaped who we are, and the nature
of our minds today.
The huge human brain, approximately 1,350 cubic centimeters, is the most
complex organic structure in the known world. Understanding the human
mind/brain mechanisms in evolutionary perspective is the goal of the new
scientific discipline called evolutionary psychology. Evolutionary psychology
focuses on four key questions: (1) Why is the mind designed the way it is—
that is, what causal processes created, fashioned, or shaped the human mind
into its current form? (2) How is the human mind designed—what are its
mechanisms or component parts, and how are they organized? (3) What are
the functions of the component parts and their organized structure—that is,
what is the mind designed to do? (4) How does input from the current
environment interact with the design of the human mind to produce
observable behavior?
Contemplating the mysteries of the human mind is not new. Ancient
Greeks such as Aristotle and Plato wrote manifestos on the subject. More
recently, theories of the human mind such as the Freudian theory of
psychoanalysis, the Skinnerian theory of reinforcement, and connectionism
have vied for the attention of psychologists.
Only within the past few decades have we acquired the conceptual tools
to synthesize our understanding of the human mind under one unifying
theoretical framework—that of evolutionary psychology. This discipline pulls
together findings from all disciplines of the mind, including those of brain
imaging; learning and memory; attention, emotion, and passion; attraction,
jealousy, and sex; self-esteem, status, and self-sacrifice; parenting,
persuasion, and perception; kinship, warfare, and aggression; cooperation,
altruism, and helping; ethics, morality, religion, and medicine; and
commitment, culture, and consciousness. This book offers an introduction to
evolutionary psychology and provides a road map to this new science of the
mind.
This chapter starts by tracing the major landmarks in the history of
evolutionary biology that were critical to the emergence of evolutionary
psychology. Then we turn to the history of the field of psychology and show
the progression of accomplishments that led to the need for integrating
evolutionary theory with modern psychology.
Landmarks in the History of Evolutionary Thinking

We begin our examination of the history of evolutionary thinking well

before the contributions of Charles Darwin and then consider the
various milestones in its development through the end of the 20th
century.

Evolution Before Darwin

Evolution refers to change over time. Change in life forms was

postulated by scientists to have occurred long before Darwin published
his classic 1859 book On the Origin of Species (see Glass, Temekin, &
Straus, 1959; and Harris, 1992, for historical treatments).

Jean Baptiste Lamarck (1744–1829) was one of the first scientists to use the
word biologie, which recognized the study of life as a distinct science.
Lamarck believed in two major causes of species change: first, a natural
tendency for each species to progress toward a higher form and, second, the
inheritance of acquired characteristics. Lamarck proposed that animals must
struggle to survive and this struggle causes their nerves to secrete a fluid that
enlarges the organs involved in the struggle. Giraffes evolved long necks, he
thought, through their attempts to eat from higher and higher leaves (recent
evidence suggests that long necks may also play a role in mate competition
through physical battles). Lamarck believed that the neck changes that came
about from these strivings were passed down to succeeding generations of
giraffes, hence the phrase “the inheritance of acquired characteristics.”
Another theory of change in life forms was developed by Baron Georges
Léopold Chrétien Frédérick Dagobert Cuvier (1769–1832). Cuvier proposed a
theory called catastrophism, according to which species are extinguished
periodically by sudden catastrophes, such as meteorites, and then replaced by
different species.
Biologists before Darwin also noticed the bewildering variety of species,
some with astonishing structural similarities. Humans, chimpanzees, and
orangutans, for example, all have exactly five digits on each hand and foot.
The wings of birds are similar to the flippers of seals, perhaps suggesting that
one was modified from the other (Daly & Wilson, 1983). Comparisons among
these species suggested that life was not static, as some scientists and
theologians had argued. Further evidence suggesting change over time also
came from the fossil record. Bones from older geological strata were not the
same as bones from more recent geological strata. These bones would not be
different, scientists reasoned, unless there had been a change in organic
structure over time.
Another source of evidence came from comparing the embryological
development of different species (Mayr, 1982). Biologists noticed that such
development was strikingly similar in species that otherwise seemed very
different from one another. An unusual loop-like pattern of arteries close to
the bronchial slits characterizes the embryos of mammals, birds, and frogs.
This evidence suggested, perhaps, that these species might have come from
the same ancestors millions of years ago. All these pieces of evidence, present
before 1859, suggested that life was not fixed or unchanging. The biologists
who believed that life forms changed over time called themselves
evolutionists.
Another key observation had been made by evolutionists before Darwin:
Many species possess characteristics that seem to have a purpose. The
porcupine’s quills help it fend off predators. The turtle’s shell helps to protect
its tender organs from the hostile forces of nature. The beaks of many birds
are designed to aid in cracking nuts. This apparent functionality, so abundant
in nature, required an explanation.
Missing from the evolutionists’ accounts before Darwin, however, was a
theory to explain how change might take place over time and how such
seemingly purposeful structures such as the giraffe’s long neck and the
porcupine’s sharp quills could have come about. A causal process to explain
these biological phenomena was needed. Charles Darwin provided the theory
of just such a process.
Darwin’s Theory of Natural Selection

Darwin’s task was more difficult than it might at first appear. He

wanted not only to explain why change takes place over time in life
forms but also to account for the particular ways it proceeds. He wanted
to determine how new species emerge (hence the title of his book On
the Origin of Species), as well as why others vanish or go extinct.
Darwin wanted to explain why the component parts of animals—the
long necks of giraffes, the wings of birds, and the trunks of elephants—
existed in those particular forms. And he wanted to explain the
apparent purposive quality of those forms, or why they seem to
function to help organisms accomplish specific tasks.

The answers to these puzzles can be traced to a voyage Darwin took after
graduating from Cambridge University. He traveled the world as a naturalist
on a ship, the Beagle, for a 5-year period, from 1831 to 1836. During this
voyage, he collected dozens of samples of birds and other animals from the
Galápagos Islands in the Pacific Ocean. On returning from his voyage, he
discovered that the Galápagos finches, which he had presumed were all of the
same species, actually varied so much that they constituted different species.
Indeed, each island in the Galápagos had a distinct species of finch. Darwin
determined that these different finches had a common ancestor but had
become different from each other because of the local ecological conditions
on each island. This geographic variation was pivotal to Darwin’s conclusion
that species are not immutable but can change over time.

What could account for why species change? Darwin struggled with
several different theories of the origins of change but rejected all of
them because they failed to explain a critical fact: the existence of
adaptations. Darwin wanted to account for change, of course, but he
also wanted to account for why organisms appeared so well designed
for their local environments.
Charles Darwin created a scientific revolution in biology with his theory of natural selection.
His book On the Origin of Species (1859) is packed with theoretical arguments and detailed
empirical data that he amassed over the 25 years prior to the book’s publication.
 It was… evident that [these other theories] could not account for the innumerable cases
in which organisms of every kind are beautifully adapted to their habits of life—for
instance, a woodpecker or tree-frog to climb trees, or a seed for dispersal by hooks and
plumes. I had always been much struck by such adaptations, and until these could be
explained it seemed to me almost useless to endeavour to prove by indirect evidence that
species have been modified.
(Darwin, from his autobiography; cited in Ridley, 1996, p. 9)

Darwin unearthed a key to the puzzle of adaptations in Thomas Malthus’s

An Essay on the Principle of Population (published in 1798), which introduced
Darwin to the notion that organisms exist in numbers far greater than can
survive and reproduce. The result must be a “struggle for existence,” in which
favorable variations tend to be preserved and unfavorable ones tend to die
out. When this process is repeated generation after generation, the end result
is the formation of new adaptation.
More formally, Darwin’s answer to all these puzzles of life was the theory
of natural selection and its three essential ingredients: variation, inheritance,
and differential reproductive success.1 First, organisms vary in all sorts of
ways, such as in wing length, trunk strength, bone mass, cell structure,
fighting ability, defensive ability, and social cunning. Variation is essential for
the process of evolution to operate—it provides the “raw materials” for
evolution. Second, only some of these variations are inherited—that is, passed
down reliably from parents to their offspring, who then pass them on to their
offspring down through the generations. Other variations, such as a wing
deformity caused by an environmental accident, are not inherited by
offspring. Only those variations that are inherited play a role in the
evolutionary process.
The third critical ingredient of Darwin’s theory is selection. Organisms
with some heritable variants leave more offspring because those attributes
help with the tasks of survival or reproduction. In an environment in which
the primary food source might be nut-bearing trees or bushes, some finches
with a particular shape of beak, for example, might be better able to crack
nuts and get at their meat than finches with other shapes of beaks. More
finches who have beaks better shaped for nut cracking survive than those
with beaks poorly shaped for nut cracking.
An organism can survive for many years, however, and still not pass on its
inherited qualities to future generations. To pass its inherited qualities to
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
had married a seafaring youth, and borne him one fair child. Her
husband was returning from a distant voyage; had entered the sea of
Solway; his native hills—his own home—rose to his view, and he saw
the light streaming from the little chamber window, where his wife
and his sweet child sat awaiting his return. But it was not written
that they were to meet again in life. She heard the sweep of a
whirlwind, and she heard a shriek, and going to her chamber-door,
she saw the ship sinking, and her husband struggling in the agitated
water. It is needless to lengthen a sorrowful story: she now threw
herself weeping over his grave, and poured out the following wail:—
“He was the fairest among men, yet the sea swept him away: he
was the kindest hearted, yet he was not to remain. What were all
other men compared to him,—his long curling hair, and his sweet
hazel eyes, and his kind and gladsome tongue? He loved me long,
and he won me from many rivals; for who could see his face, and not
love him? who could listen to his speech, and refuse him aught?
When he danced, maids stood round, and thought his feet made
richer music than the instruments. When he sang, the maids and
matrons blessed him; and high-born dames loved the song of my
frank and gentle sailor. But there is no mercy in the ocean for the
sons of men; and there is nought but sorrow for their daughters. Men
go gray-headed to the grave, who, had they trusted the unstable
deeps, would have perished in their prime, and left fatherless babes,
and sorrowing widows. Alas, alas! in lonely night, on this eerie spot,
on thy low and early grave, I pour forth my heart! Who now shall
speak peace to my mind, and open the latch of my little lonely home
with thy kind and anxious hand? Who now shall dandle my sweet
babe on his knee, or love to go with me to kirk and to preaching,—to
talk over our old tales of love and courtship,—of the secret tryst and
the bridal joy!”
And, concluding her melancholy chant, she looked sorrowfully and
steadfastly at the grave, and recommenced anew her wailing and her
tears.
The widow’s grief endured so long that the moon began to make
her approach manifest by shooting up a long and a broad stream of
thin, lucid, and trembling light over the eastern ridge of the
Cumberland hills. She rose from her knees, shed back her moist and
disordered locks, showing a face pale but lovely, while the watery
light of two large dark eyes, of liquid and roving blue, was cast
mournfully on the way homewards, down which she now turned her
steps to be gone. Of what passed in the pastor’s mind at this
moment, tradition, which sometimes mocks, and at other times
deifies, the feelings of men, gives a very unsatisfactory account. He
saw the hour of appointment with his shadowy messenger from the
other world arrive and pass without his appearance; and he was
perhaps persuaded that the pure, and pious, and overflowing grief of
the fair young widow had prevented the intrusion of a form so
ungracious and unholy. As she advanced from the burial-ground, the
pastor of her parish stood mute and sorrowful before her. She passed
him as one not wishing to be noticed, and glided along the path with
a slow step and a downcast eye.
She had reached the side of a little lonely stream, which glided half
seen, half hid, underneath its banks of broom and honeysuckle,
sprinkled at that hour with wild daisies, and spotted with primroses
—when the voice of Ezra reached her ears. She made a full stop, like
one who hears something astounding, and turned round on the
servant of the altar a face radiant with tears, to which her tale of woe,
and the wild and lonely place, added an interest and a beauty.
“Young woman,” he began, “it is unseemly in thee to bewail thy
loss at this lonely hour, and in this dreary spot: the youth was given
to thee, and ye became vain. I remarked the pride of thy looks, and
the gaudiness of thine apparel, even in the house of holiness; he is
taken from thee, perhaps, to punish thy pride. There is less meekness
in thy sorrow than there was reason in thy joy; but be ye not
discomforted.”
Here the weeping lady turned the sidelong glance of her swimming
eyes on Ezra, shed back the locks which usurped a white brow and
snowy temples, and folding her hands over a bosom, the throbbings
of which made the cambric that concealed it undulate like water,
stood still, and drank in his words of comfort and condolence.
Tradition always conducts Ezra and the mariner’s widow to this
seldom frequented place. A hundred and a hundred times have I
mused over the scene in sunlight and moonlight; a hundred and a
hundred times have I hearkened to the wild and variable accounts of
the peasantry, and sought to make bank, and bush, and stream, and
tree assist in unravelling the mystery which must still hang over the
singular and tragic catastrophe. Standing in this romantic place, a
pious man, not over-stricken in years, conversing with a rosy young
widow, a vain and a fair creature, a bank of blossomed flowers beside
them, and the new risen moon scattering her slant and ineffectual
beams on the thick budded branches above them,—such is the
picture which tradition invariably draws, while imagination
endeavours to take up the tender thread of the story, and
imagination must have this licence still. Truth contents herself with
the summary of a few and unsatisfactory particulars. The dawn of
morning came, says Truth, and Ezra had not returned to his manse.
Something evil hath happened, said Imagination, scattering as she
spoke a thousand tales of a thousand hues, many of which still find
credence among the pious people of Galloway.
Josiah, the old and faithful servant of Ezra, arrived in search of his
master at the lonely burial-ground, about the dawn of the morning.
He had become alarmed at his long absence, and his alarm was not
abated by the unholy voices which at midnight sailed round the
manse and kirk, singing, as he imagined, a wild and infernal hymn of
joy and thanksgiving. He traced his steps down the footpath by the
rivulet side till he came to the little primrose bank, and found it
trodden upon and pressed as if two persons had been seated among
the flowers. Here all further traces ceased, and Josiah stood
pondering on the power of evil spirits, and the danger of holding
tryst with Beelzebub or any of the lesser spirits of darkness.
He was soon joined by an old shepherd, who told a tale which
pious men refuse to believe, though they always listen to it. The
bright moonlight had made him imagine it was morning, and he
arose and walked forth to look at his lambs on the distant hill—the
moon had been up for nearly an hour. His way lay near the little
lonely primrose bank, and as he walked along he heard the
whispering of tongues: he deemed it some idle piece of lovemaking,
and he approached to see who they might be. He saw what ought not
to be seen, even the reverend Ezra seated on the bank, and
conversing with a buxom young dame and a strange one. They were
talking wondrous kindly. He observed them for a little space; the
young dame was in widow’s weeds; the mariner’s widow wore the
only weeds, praise be blest, in the parish, but she was a raven to a
swan compared to the quean who conversed with the minister. She
was indeed passing fair, and the longer he looked on her she became
the lovelier—ower lovely for mere flesh and blood. His dog shrunk
back and whimpered, and an owl that chased a bird in the grove
uttered a scream of terror as it beheld her, and forsook its prey. At
length she turned the light of her eyes on himself; Will-o’-the-wisp
was but a proverb to them; they had a glance he should never get the
better of, and he hardly thought his legs carried him home, he flew
with such supernatural speed.
“But, indeed,” added the cautious peasant, “I have some doubts
that the whole was a fiction of the auld enemy, to make me think ill
of the douce man and the godly; and if he be spared to come home,
so I shall tell him. But if Ezra, pious man, is heard of nae mair, I shall
be free to believe that what I heard I heard, and what I saw I saw.
And Josiah, man, I may as weel give you the benefit of my own
opinion. I’ll amaist aver on my Bible, that the minister, a daring man
and a courageous,—ower courageous, I doubt,—has been dared out
to the lonely place by some he, or, maybe, she-fiend—the latter maist
likely; and there he has been overcome by might or temptation, and
now Satan may come atween the stilts of the gospel plough, for the
right hand of Ezra will hold it no longer; or I shouldna wonder,”
added the shepherd, “but that the old dour persecutor Bonshaw has
carried him away on his fiend-steed Geordie Johnstone; conscience!
nought mair likely; and I’ll warrant even now they are ducking him
in the dub of perdition, or picking his banes ahint the hallan o’ hell.”
The whole of this rustic prediction was not fulfilled. In a little deep
wild dell, at the distance of a gunshot, they found Ezra Peden lying
on the ground, uttering words which will be pardoned, since they
were the words of a delirious tongue. He was carried home amid the
sympathy and sorrow of his parishioners; he answered no question,
nor seemed to observe a single face, though the face of many a friend
stood round him. He only raved out words of tenderness and
affection, addressed to some imaginary person at his side; and
concluded by starting up, and raising such an outcry of horror and
amazement, as if the object of his regard had become a demon: seven
strong men could hardly hold him. He died on the third day, after
making a brief disclosure, which may be readily divined from this
hasty and imperfect narrative.
 YOUNG RONALD OF MORAR:
A TRADITIONARY TALE OF THE WESTERN
HIGHLANDS.

Angus Macdonald, a son of Clanranald, having quarrelled with his

neighbour and namesake, the Laird of Morar, he made an irruption
into that district, at the head of a select portion of his followers. One
of his men was celebrated for his dexterity as a marksman; and on
their march he gave a proof of this, by striking the head off the
canna, or moss cotton, with an arrow. This plant is common on
mossy ground in the Highlands; it is as white as the driven snow, and
not half the size of the lily.
Having got possession of the cattle, Angus was driving away the
spreith to his own country; but Dugald of Morar pursued him with a
few servants who happened to be at hand; and, being esteemed a
man of great bravery, Angus had no wish to encounter him. He
ordered the marksman to shoot him with an arrow; but the poor
fellow, being unwilling to injure Dugald, aimed high, and overshot
him. Angus observed this, and expressed his surprise that a man who
could hit the canna yesterday, could not hit Dugald’s broad forehead
that day; and drawing his sword, swore that he would cleave the
marksman’s head should he miss him again. John then reluctantly
drew his bow, and Dugald fell to rise no more.
Angus got into his hands the only son of the dreaded Morar, then
very young; and the treatment which the unfortunate boy received
was calculated to injure his health and shorten his life. A poor girl,
who attended the calves, had pity on him, and at last contrived to
carry him away, wrapped up in a large fleece of wool. Having escaped
from her pursuers, she made her way to the house of Cameron of
Lochiel. Here she and the boy were most hospitably received; and,
according to the custom of the country in those days, they passed a
year and a day without being asked any question. At the end of that
period, Lochiel made inquiry regarding the boy, and the girl candidly
told him her story. He thus discovered that the boy was the son of his
own wife’s sister; but he concealed the whole from his lady, of whose
secrecy he was not very confident. But he treated young Ronald with
great kindness. Lochiel had a son much of the same age; the two boys
frequently quarrelled, and the lady was angry to see her own son
worsted. She at last swore that “the girl and her vagabond must quit
the house next morning.” The generous Lochiel set out with the boy
to Inverness, where he boarded him under a false name, and placed
the woman in the service of a friend in the neighbourhood, that she
might have an eye to his condition.
Ronald received such education as befitted his birth; and when he
grew up to manhood, he paid a visit to Lochiel, his kind benefactor,
in Lochaber, who was so much satisfied with him, that he
determined on giving him his powerful assistance in recovering his
paternal estate, which was then in the possession of Angus.
Lochiel ordered a hundred men to attend himself and Ronald on
this occasion; and they arrived in Morar on a Sunday, when the
usurper and all his people were in church at mass. He congratulated
the young man on the opportunity he now had of avenging his
father’s blood, and destroying all his enemies at once, by burning
them in the church. Ronald humanely objected, that though many of
those persons then in the church were guilty of his father’s death, yet
there were others innocent of that crime; and he declared that if his
estate could not be recovered otherwise, he would rather want it, and
trust to Providence and his own valour. Lochiel did not at all relish
such sentiments, and left Ronald to his fate.
Ronald took refuge in a cavern, and the daughter of Angus, his
only child, frequently passed that way, in looking after her father’s
fold. He sometimes got into conversation with her; and, though but a
child, she became attached to him. He prevailed upon her to get his
shirts washed for him. Her father having accidentally discovered the
linen bleaching, observed the initial letters of Ronald’s name; and
making inquiry into the circumstances, soon suspected that he was at
hand. He attempted to persuade his daughter to decoy Ronald into
his power; but she told the young man all that her father proposed to
her; and he, finding that Angus was still thirsting for his blood,
immediately left the country, and took the girl along with him. With
much difficulty he conveyed her in safety to Inverness, from whence
he procured a passage to France, where he placed her in a convent.
He entered the French army, and was much distinguished for his
bravery; he was thus enabled to support himself, and to defray the
expense of her education. When the young woman was of age, they
were married, and returned to Scotland. Ronald having obtained
strong recommendations to the king, he found means of being
reconciled to Angus, who was then old, and had become very
penitent. He made great professions of friendship and attachment to
Ronald; but his daughter was always doubtful of his sincerity, and it
would appear that she had justly appreciated his disposition. One
night, Ronald having feigned intoxication and retired to rest, the old
barbarian calculated that he would sleep very soundly, and slunk into
his apartment, armed with a dirk, to stab his son-in-law; but the
young man watched the treacherous hypocrite, and put him to death.
Ronald obtained possession of his paternal estate, and, after a long
and prosperous life, became the founder of a very respectable family.
—Lit. Gazette.
 THE BROKEN RING.

By one of the Authors of the “Odd Volume.”

“Hout, lassie,” said the wily Dame Seton to her daughter, “dinna
blear your een wi’ greeting. What would honest Maister Binks say, if
he were to come in the now, and see you looking baith dull and dour?
Dight your een, my bairn, and snood back your hair—I’se warrant
you’ll mak a bonnier bride than ony o’ your sisters.”
“I carena whether I look bonny or no, since Willie winna see me,”
said Mary, while her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, mother, ye have been
ower hasty in this matter; I canna help thinking he will come hame
yet, and make me his wife. It’s borne in on my mind that Willie is no
dead.”
“Put awa such thoughts out o’ your head, lassie,” answered her
mother; “naebody doubts but yoursel that the ship that he sailed in
was whumelled ower in the saut sea—what gars you threep he’s
leeving that gate?”
“Ye ken, mother,” answered Mary, “that when Willie gaed awa on
that wearifu’ voyage, ‘to mak the crown a pound,’ as the auld sang
says, he left a kist o’ his best claes for me to tak care o’; for he said he
would keep a’ his braws for a day that’s no like to come, and that’s
our bridal. Now, ye ken it’s said, that as lang as the moths keep aff
folk’s claes, the owner o’ them is no dead,—so I e’en took a look o’ his
bit things the day, and there’s no a broken thread among them.”
“Ye had little to do to be howking among a dead man’s claes,” said
her mother; “it was a bonny like job for a bride.”
“But I’m no a bride,” answered Mary, sobbing. “How can ye hae
the heart to speak o’t, mother, and the year no out since I broke a
ring wi’ my ain Willie!—Weel hae I keepit my half o’t; and if Willie is
in this world, he’ll hae the other as surely.”
“I trust poor Willie is in a better place,” said the mother, trying to
sigh; “and since it has been ordered sae, ye maun just settle your
mind to take honest Maister Binks; he’s rich, Mary, my dear bairn,
and he’ll let ye want for naething.”
“Riches canna buy true love,” said Mary.
“But they can buy things that will last a hantle longer,” responded
the wily mother; “so, Mary, ye maun tak him, if you would hae me
die in peace. Ye ken I can leave ye but little. The house and bit garden
maun gang to your brother, and his wife will mak him keep a close
hand;—she’ll soon let you see the cauld shouther. Poor relations are
unco little thought o’; so, lassie, as ye would deserve my benison,
dinna keep simmering it and wintering it any longer, but take a gude
offer when it’s made ye.”
“I’ll no hae him till the year is out,” cried Mary. “Wha kens but the
ship may cast up yet?”
“I fancy we’ll hae to gie you your ain gate in this matter,” replied
the dame, “mair especially as it wants but three weeks to the year,
and we’ll need that to hae ye cried in the kirk, and to get a’ your
braws ready.”
“Oh, mother, mother, I wish ye would let me die!” was Mary’s
answer, as she flung herself down on her little bed.
Delighted at having extorted Mary’s consent to the marriage,
Dame Seton quickly conveyed the happy intelligence to her son-in-
law elect, a wealthy burgess of Dunbar; and having invited Annot
Cameron, Mary’s cousin, to visit them, and assist her in cheering the
sorrowful bride, the preparations for the marriage proceeded in due
form.
On the day before that appointed for the wedding, as the cousins
sat together, arranging the simple ornaments of the bridal dress,
poor Mary’s feelings could no longer be restrained, and her tears fell
fast.
“Dear sake, Mary, gie ower greeting,” said Annot; “the bonny white
satin ribbon is wringing wet.”
“Sing her a canty sang to keep up her heart,” said Dame Seton.
 “I canna bide a canty sang the day, for there’s ane rinnin’ in my
head that my poor Willie made ae night as we sat beneath the rowan-
tree outby there, and when we thought we were to gang hand in hand
through this wearifu’ world,” and Mary began to sing in a low voice.
At this moment the door of the dwelling opened, and a tall, dark-
complexioned woman entered, and saying, “My benison on a’ here,”
she seated herself close to the fire, and lighting her pipe, began to
smoke, to the great annoyance of Dame Seton.
“Gudewife,” said she gruffly, “ye’re spoiling the lassie’s gown, and
raising such a reek, so here’s an awmous to ye, and you’ll just gang
your ways, we’re unco thrang the day.”
“Nae doubt,” rejoined the spaewife, “a bridal time is a thrang time,
but it should be a heartsome ane too.”
“And hae ye the ill-manners to say it’s otherwise?” retorted Dame
Seton. “Gang awa wi’ ye, without anither bidding; ye’re making the
lassie’s braws as black as coom.”
“Will ye hae yer fortune spaed, my bonny May?” said the woman,
as she seized Mary’s hand.
“Na, na,” answered Mary, “I ken it but ower weel already.”
“You’ll be married soon, my bonny lassie,” said the sibyl.
“Hech, sirs, that’s piper’s news, I trow,” retorted the dame, with
great contempt; “can ye no tell us something better worth the
hearing?”
“Maybe I can,” answered the spaewife. “What would you think if I
were to tell you that your daughter keeps the half o’ the gold ring she
broke wi’ the winsome sailor lad near her heart by night and by day?”
“Get out o’ my house, ye tinkler!” cried Dame Seton, in wrath; “we
want to hear nae such clavers.”
“Ye wanted news,” retorted the fortune-teller; “and I trow I’ll gie ye
mair than you’ll like to hear. Hark ye, my bonnie lassie, ye’ll be
married soon, but no to Jamie Binks,—here’s an anchor in the palm
of your hand, as plain as a pikestaff.”
“Awa wi’ ye, ye leein’ Egyptian that ye are,” cried Dame Seton, “or
I’ll set the dog on you, and I’ll promise ye he’ll no leave ae dud on
your back to mend another.”
 “I wadna rede ye to middle wi’ me, Dame Seton,” said the fortune-
teller. “And now, having said my say, and wishing ye a blithe bridal,
I’ll just be stepping awa;” and ere another word was spoken, the
gipsy had crossed the threshold.
“I’ll no marry Jamie Binks,” cried Mary, wringing her hands; “send
to him, mother, and tell him sae.”
“The sorrow take the lassie,” said Dame Seton; “would you make
yoursel and your friends a warld wonder, and a’ for the clavers o’ a
leein’ Egyptian,—black be her fa’, that I should ban.”
“Oh, mother, mother!” cried Mary, “how can I gie ae man my
hand, when another has my heart?”
“Troth, lassie,” replied her mother, “a living joe is better than a
dead ane ony day. But whether Willie be dead or living, ye shall be
Jamie Binks’ wife the morn. Sae tak nae thought o’ that ill-deedy
body’s words, but gang ben the house and dry your een, and Annot
will put the last steek in your bonny white gown.”
With a heavy heart Mary saw the day arrive which was to seal her
fate; and while Dame Seton is bustling about, getting everything in
order for the ceremony, which was to be performed in the house, we
shall take the liberty of directing the attention of our readers to the
outside passengers of a stagecoach, advancing from the south, and
rapidly approaching Dunbar. Close behind the coachman was seated
a middle-aged, substantial-looking farmer, with a round, fat, good-
humoured face, and at his side was placed a handsome young sailor,
whose frank and jovial manner, and stirring tale of shipwreck and
captivity, had pleasantly beguiled the way.
“And what’s taking you to Dunbar the day, Mr Johnstone?” asked
the coachman.
“Just a wedding, John,” answered the farmer. “My cousin, Jamie
Binks, is to be married the night.”
“He has been a wee ower lang about it,” said the coachman.
“I’m thinking,” replied the farmer, “it’s no the puir lassie’s fault
that the wedding hasna been put off langer; they say that bonny
Mary has little gude will to her new joe.”
“What Mary is that you are speaking about?” asked the sailor.
 “Oh, just bonny Mary Seton that’s to be married the night,”
answered the farmer.
“Whew!” cried the sailor, giving a long whistle.
“I doubt,” said the farmer, “she’ll be but a waefu’ bride, for the
sough gangs that she hasna forgotten an auld joe; but ye see he was
away, and no likely to come back, and Jamie Binks is weel to pass in
the world, and the mother, they say, just made her life bitter till the
puir lassie was driven to say she would take him. It is no right in the
mother, but folks say she is a dour wife, and had aye an ee to the
siller.”
“Right!” exclaimed the young sailor, “she deserves the cat-o’-nine
tails!”
“Whisht, whisht, laddie,” said the farmer. “Preserve us! where is he
gaun?” he continued, as the youth sprung from the coach and struck
across the fields.
“He’ll be taking the short cut to the town,” answered the
coachman, giving his horses the whip.
The coach whirled rapidly on, and the farmer was soon set down at
Dame Seton’s dwelling, where the whole of the bridal party was
assembled, waiting the arrival of the minister.
“I wish the minister would come,” said Dame Seton.
“We must open the window,” answered Annot, “for Mary is like to
swarf awa.”
This was accordingly done, and as Mary sat close by the window,
and gasping for breath, an unseen hand threw a small package into
her lap.
“Dear sirs, Mary,” said Dame Seton, “open up the bit parcel, bairn;
it will be a present frae your Uncle Sandie; it’s a queer way o’ gieing
it, but he ne’er does things like ony ither body.” The bridal guests
gathered round Mary as she slowly undid fold after fold. “Hech!”
observed Dame Seton, “it maun be something very precious to be in
such sma’ bouk.” The words were scarcely uttered when the half of a
gold ring lay in Mary’s hand.
“Where has this come frae?” exclaimed Mary, wringing her hands.
“Has the dead risen to upbraid me?”
 “No, Mary, but the living has come to claim you,” cried the young
sailor, as he vaulted through the open window, and caught her in his
arms.
“Oh, Willie, Willie, where hae ye been a’ this weary time?”
exclaimed Mary, while the tears fell on her pale cheek.
“That’s a tale for another day,” answered the sailor; “I can think of
nothing but joy while I haud you to my breast, which you will never
leave mair.”
“There will be twa words to that bargain, my joe,” retorted Dame
Seton. “Let go my bairn, and gang awa wi’ ye; she’s trysted to be this
honest man’s wife, and his wife she shall be.”
“Na, na, mistress,” said the bridegroom, “I hae nae broo o’
wedding another man’s joe: since Willie Fleming has her heart, he
may e’en tak her hand for me.”
“Gude save us,” cried the farmer, shaking the young sailor by the
hand, “little did I ken wha I was speaking to on the top of the coach. I
say, guidwife,” he continued, “ye maun just let Willie tak her; nae
gude e’er yet come o’ crossing true love.”
“’Deed, that’s a truth,” was answered by several bonny
bridesmaids. Dame Seton, being deserted by her allies, and finding
the stream running so strongly against her, at length gave an
unwilling consent to the marriage of the lovers, which was celebrated
amidst general rejoicings; and at the request of his bride, Willie, on
his wedding-day, attired himself in the clothes which the moths had
so considerately spared for the happy occasion.
 A PASSAGE OF MY LIFE.

Maiden aunts are very tough. Their very infirmities seem to bring
about a new term of life. They are like old square towers—nobody
knows when they were built, and nobody knows when they will
tumble down. You may unroof them, unfloor them, knock in their
casements, and break down their doors, till the four old black walls
stand, and stand through storm and sunshine year after year, till the
eye, accustomed to contemplate the gradual decay of everything else,
sickens to look at this anomaly in nature. My aunt, dear good soul,
seemed resolved never to die,—at least to outlive her hopeful
nephew. I thought she was to prove as perdurable as a dried
mummy,—she was by this time equally yellow and exsiccated as any
of the daughters of Pharaoh.
I had run myself quite aground. But my extravagances, as well as
my distresses, I had the policy to conceal from my aged relative. She,
honest lady, occasionally had pressed me to accept of some slight
pittances of two or three £50’s at different times, which, after much
difficulty and entreaty, I made a merit of accepting, stoutly asserting
that I only received them to avoid hurting her feelings—that my own
income was amply sufficient for the limited wants of a scholar, or to
any one who could put in practice the rules of wholesome economy;
but this trifle certainly would enable me to purchase a few rather
expensive publications which I could not otherwise have hoped to do,
and which would prove of essential use in furthering the progress of
the two great works I had commenced while at college, and had been
busy with ever since, viz.: “A History of Antediluvian Literature, Arts,
and Sciences,” and, “A Dissertation on the Military Tactics of the
Assyrians,” which I intended should appear along with the last
volume of Valpy’s Greek Dictionary, or the first of Sir James
Mackintosh’s History of Great Britain.
 Fortune at last grew tired of persecuting me; she fairly turned her
wheel, and put me on the brightest spoke. My aunt’s factor called one
day, and let me know that he thought I should make my visits at
Broadcroft more frequent—take a little interest in looking over the
ditching and draining of the estate (short-sighted man, he little knew
how much I had ditched and drained it by anticipation!)—walk
through the woods and plantations, and bestow my opinion as to
thinning them (they were long ago, in my own mind, transferred to
the timber-yard)—apply myself a little to master the details of
business connected with agricultural affairs, such as markets, green
and white crops, manure, &c. &c.; and concluded by telling me that
his son was a remarkably clever lad, knew country matters
exceedingly well, and would be a most valuable acquisition as factor
or land grieve to any gentleman of extensive landed property. The
drift of this communication I perfectly understood. I listened with
the most profound attention, lamented my own ignorance of the
subjects wherein his clever son was so much at home, and wished
only that I had an estate, that I might entrust it to the care of so
intelligent a steward. After dispatching a bottle or two of claret, we
parted mutually pleased.
He had seen my aunt’s will, and, in the fulness of his heart, ran
over the legal jargon which constituted me the owner of Broadcroft,
Lilliesacre, Kittleford, Westerha’, Cozieholm, Harperston, and
Oxgang, with hale parts and pendicles, woods and fishings, mills and
mill-lands, muirs and mosses, rights of pasturage and commonty. I
never heard more delightful music all my days than the hour I spent
hearkening to this old rook cawing over the excellent lands that were
mine in prospective. My aunt’s letters, after this, I found assumed a
querulous tone, and became strongly impregnated with religious
commonplaces—a sure sign to me that she herself was now winding
up her earthly affairs—and generally concluded with some such
sentence as this: “I am in a comfortable frame of spirit, but my
fleshly tabernacle is sorely decayed—great need hath it of a sure prop
in the evening of its days.” These epistles I regularly answered,
seasoning them with scriptural texts as well as I could. Some, to be
sure, had no manner of connection or application whatsoever; but I
did not care for that if they were there. I stuck them thick and
threefold, for I knew my aunt was an indulgent critic, provided she
got plenty of matter. I took the precaution also of paying the postage,
for I learned, with something like satisfaction, that of late she had
become rather parsimonious in her habits. I also heard that she daily
took much comfort in the soul-searching and faith-fortifying
discourses of Mr Samuel Salmasius Sickerscreed, a migratory
preacher of some denomination or other, who had found it
convenient for some months to pitch his tent in the Broadcroft.
Several of my aunt’s letters told me, in no measured terms, her high
opinion of his edifying gifts. With these opinions, as a matter of
course, I warmly coincided. Sheet after sheet now poured in from
Broadcroft. I verily thought all the worthy divines, from the
Reformation downwards, had been put in requisition to batter me to
pieces with choice and ghostly counsel.
This infliction I bore up against with wonderful fortitude, and
repaid with my weightiest metal. To supply the extraordinary drafts
thus made on my stores of devout phraseology, I had to call in my
worthy friend Tom ——. He had been a regularly-bred theologian,
but finding the casque more fitting for his hot head than the
presbyter’s cowl, he now lived in elegant starvation as a dashing
cornet in the —— Dragoons, and a better fellow never breathed. His
assistance was of eminent service: when we exhausted our own
invention, we immediately transcribed the sermon of some forgotten
divine of last century, and sent it thundering off. These we
denominated shells. At this time Tom’s fortune and mine were
hanging on the same pin; we were both up to the chin in debt; we
had stretched our respective personal credits, as far as they would go,
for each other. We were involved in such a beautiful multitude and
labyrinth of mutual obligations, that we could neither count them
nor see our way out of them. In the holy siege of Broadcroft citadel
we therefore joined heart and hand.
In this manner things went on smoothly. My aunt was becoming
daily weaker, seldom left her own bedroom, and permitted no person
to see her save the Rev. S. S. Sickerscreed. Indeed, every letter I
received from my aunt intimated more plainly than its predecessor
that I might make up my mind for a great and sudden change, and
prepare myself for afflictions. As in duty bound, my answers
breathed of sorrow and resignation—lamented the mutability of this
world—its nothingness—the utter vanity of all earthly joys. I really
loved the good old lady; but I was hampered most villanously. I knew
not a spot where I could put the sole of my foot, without some legal
mine blowing me up a shivered rag into the azure firmament,—a fate
a thousand times more picturesque than pleasant. I may therefore be
excused for confessing that I looked upon my aunt’s release from this
world as the dawn of my own deliverance. Yet, even then, I felt
shame when I looked into the chambers of my heart, and found that
every feeling of grief I had there for my aunt’s illness was beautifully
edged with a gleam of satisfaction. The cypresses and yews, and
other mournful trees that threw their pensive shadows around me,
were positively resting above a burning volcano of joy. No; it was not
in human nature for a desperate man like me to exclude from his
contemplation the bills, bonds, moneys, and manors that had
accumulated for years under her thrifty and prudent management.
One morning, while musing in this indescribable state of feeling, a
little ragged boy, besmeared with dust and sweat, whom I recognised
as turnspit and running footman of the establishment at Broadcroft,
thrust a crumpled greasy-like billet in my hand.
“Come awa, laird, come awa, gin ye would like to see your auld
auntie afore she gangs aff a’thegither.”
I started up, threw down the “Sporting Magazine,” and
instinctively snatched up my hat.
“When did it happen, wee Jamie?”
“This morning, nae far’er gane—but come awa; everything’s gaun
tap-salteerie at Braidcraft—sae unexpected by us a’! Has your horse
been fed yet? Dinna put aff, but come awa. We’re a’ dementit ower
the way, and ye’re muckle wanted, and sair missed.”
With this wee Jamie darted away; I roared after him to obtain
further particulars, but wee Jamie shot off like an arrow, only
twisting his head over his shoulder, notwithstanding his trot, he
screamed—
“Gerss maunna grow under my heels, if I care for my lugs. But it’s
a’ by noo, and there’s nae gude in granin’.”
With which sapient remark the kitchen boy got out of hearing, and
soon out of sight.
I now hastily broke the black wax of the billet. The note was
subscribed by Mr S. S. Sickerscreed, and was written in his most
formal small-text hand. He had been a schoolmaster in his youth,
and could write legibly, which no gentleman who regards his caste
should do. The three big S S S were dearer to me than a collar of
knighthood. It required my immediate presence at Broadcroft to talk
over certain serious and impressive matters. So had Mr Samuel
Salmasius Sickerscreed penned his billet, and in the fulness of my
heart I gave the poor man credit for an excess of delicacy more than I
ever noticed had belonged to him before. Poor dear man, he, too, has
lost a valuable friend. Judging of the exquisiteness of my feelings by
the agony of his own, he has kindly delayed the fatal announcement
of my aunt’s demise, till my heart has been prepared to meet the
shock with becoming fortitude. How considerate—how very
compassionate he has been! Worthy man—would I could repay his
kindness with a benifice! Thus did I soliloquise over the dispatch
from Broadcroft; but notwithstanding the tumult which it and its
bearer raised in my bosom, I did not omit communicating to Tom the
unexpected change which a few hours had produced in our destinies,
and charging him at the same time to moderate his transports till I
returned with a confirmation of our hopes.
Then backing my stoutest hunter, and taking a crow’s flight across
the country, I spared not her heaving flanks, nor drew bridle, till I
reached the long, straight, dusky avenue that led to the tall, narrow
slip of a house yclept Broadcroft Place. Here I slackened my pace,
and left my wearied and panting brute to crawl as lazily as she liked
along the avenue. I, too, lengthened my visage to the requisite degree
necessary for the melancholy purpose on which I came. The very
trees had a lugubrious and sepulchral aspect. I took them in fancy to
be so many Sawlies waiting the time for heading the funeral
procession of my lamented aunt. They seemed to mourn for her in
sincere sorrow, and, in fact, walking under their shadows disposed
my mind very much to melancholy. Now a green leaf, now a withered
one, dropped on my beaver as I passed, and in the deep silence that
reigned around me, I could not, despite my constitutional
recklessness, be wholly insensible to the appeals these mute
emblems of man’s mortality made to reflection.
But a pleasanter train of feelings arose when I looked at the stately
trunks of the venerable oaks, their immense girth, and (with a glow
of patriotic virtue, quite common now-a-days) pictured forth to
myself how admirably they were suited to bear Britannia’s thunders
triumphantly across the wave. Yes, every tree of them shall be
devoted to the service of my country. Perish the narrow thought, that
for its own gratification would allow them to vegetate in unprofitable
uselessness, when they can be so beneficially employed for the state.
Every old, druidical-looking oak which my eye scanned was, of
course, devoted to the axe. I already saw the timber yards piled with
Broadcroft oak, and the distant sea my imagination soon whitened
with a fleet of noble barks wholly built of them. Thus did I speculate
till I reached the end of the avenue, where, to my surprise, I found a
travelling post-chaise and four drawn up before the door of the
mansion. This vehicle, an apparition of rare occurrence in so
secluded a part of the country, and at the residence of so retired a
lady as my departed aunt, was literally crushed with trunks, and
boxes, and bags, and packages of one kind or another, strapped
above, behind, and before it.
Being never unfertile in surmises, I immediately guessed that the
equipage I saw must, of necessity, belong to the clerk to the signet,
my aunt’s city lawyer, who had trundled himself into the country
with the whole muniments of my estate, for the mere purpose of
welcoming me, and regulating my deceased relative’s affairs. His
prompt appearance, I attributed, with my usual goodness of heart, to
the kindly foresight of Mr Samuel. I really did not know how I could
sufficiently recompense him for the warm, disinterested, and
valuable services he had rendered in this season of affliction. But my
aunt must have remembered him in her testament. She was ever
grateful. She cannot possibly have overlooked him. As the d—l would
have it, I then asked myself, now, if your aunt has forgotten Mr
Samuel Salmasius Sickerscreed altogether, how will you act? At first,
I said he must have £100 at least; then as I looked on my own
necessities, the uncertainty of rents, the exorbitance of taxes, this
sum speedily subsided into half the amount. And by the time I fairly
reached my aunt’s door, I found my mind reconciling itself to the
handsome duty of presenting Mr Sickerscreed with a snuff-box, value
£2, 10s., a mourning ring worth 30s., a new coat, and ten guineas; in
all, some twenty pieces of gold or thereby.
On alighting, I gave my horse to the servant to walk and cool. John
was old as his late mistress—a very good, foolish, gray-headed
domestic, marvellously fond of the family he served with, and
marvellously fond of conversation. He looked profoundly melancholy
when he took my reins.
“It’ll be a sair dispensation to you, Maister William,” quoth John,
“this morning’s news. Ye wud be wonderfully struck and put about
when ye heard it.”
“It is, indeed,” said I, throwing as much of mournfulness as
possible into the tones of my voice. “Heavy news indeed, and most
unexpected. Great cause have I to grieve. My poor dear aunt to be
thus lost to me for ever!”
“Nae doubt, nae doubt, Maister William, ye maun hae a heavy
heartfu’. We were a’ jalousing as muckle,—that’s me, Souple Rab, and
wee Jamie; however, it’ll no do to be coosten down a’thegither,—a
rainy night may bring a blithe morrow. Every thing is uncertain in
this world but death! But come on, Kate;” and John and my reeking
jade disappeared in the direction towards the stable; John, no doubt,
bursting with impatience till he could communicate to his select
cabinet, Souple Rab and wee Jamie, the awsome and doncie looks of
the young laird.
I was yet lingering on the threshold in a most comfortable frame of
mind, when the door was thrown open. Imagine my horror when the
first figure I saw was my aunt herself, not in the drapery of the grave,
but bedizzened with ribbons from head to heel, and leaning her
withered hand on the arm of the Reverend Mr Sickerscreed. I gasped
for breath—my tongue swelled and clung to the roof of my mouth—
my eyes literally started from their sockets as if they would leave
their bony casements altogether. Had I not caught hold of the porch,
down I should have dropped.
“Am I in my senses, aunt? Do I see you really alive? Is this no
unreal mockery—no cruel hallucination? Resolve me, for Heaven’s
sake, else I go mad.”
“Dear me, nephew,” said the old lady, “what agitates you so? I feel
so glad that you have paid me this visit ere I set off on my marriage
jaunt with the elect of my heart, your worthy connection, Mr
Sickerscreed.”
“Marriage!” thundered I, “marriage!—I came to mourn over your
bier, not to laugh at your bridal. O, the infernal cruelty, Mr What’s-