The Descent of Man

The Descent of Man by Edith Wharton

Professor Linyard, a biologist, returns from a summer in the Maine woods with a secret pleasure: he has conceived a satirical book mocking the debased, sentimental pseudo-science that has flooded popular literature. At home, his practical, unintellectual wife Mrs. Linyard and his ordinary children Jack and Millicent know nothing of his real inner life, which lies entirely in his scientific work and, now, in this new comic idea. Having recently fallen ill from overwork supporting his family through his scientific writings, he uses his convalescence to draft the manuscript, intending it as a skit that will pile up platitudes, false analogies, and fallacies so absurd that even lay readers will see through the "false priests" of pseudo-science and laugh at them. He brings the manuscript to Ned Harviss, an old college friend turned publisher of popular fiction, expecting Harviss's sense of irony to catch the joke instantly. Harviss reads it and, to the Professor's astonishment, takes it entirely seriously — as a sincere "apologia," a recantation of the Professor's former cold determinism in favor of faith and optimism. When the Professor tries to explain it is satire, Harviss argues that the book is far more valuable read straight: as a genuine profession of faith it will "go" with the public, whereas as an acknowledged joke it would reach almost no one and earn nothing. He offers a large advance and proposes publishing it as sincere without changing a word. Under financial pressure and drawn by the enlarged irony of the situation — the initiated will still recognize the joke, he tells himself, while the multitude will not — the Professor agrees, consoling himself that his scientific colleagues will see through it regardless. The book, titled "The Vital Thing," is launched with an enormous advertising campaign and becomes a sensation, praised by reviewers as a stirring, tender reaffirmation of faith and optimism from a man of science. It sells across the country, is quoted in sermons and "Birthday Books," and turns the Professor into a celebrity, his face eventually appearing in magazine advertisements for breakfast food, ink, and soap. His family benefits materially: Mrs. Linyard basks in reflected honor, and the Professor uses the proceeds and further paid pieces — including a series of "Scientific Sermons" for a women's weekly — to pay off Jack's debts and satisfy household wants. Socially, the success draws the Professor into a new world of admiring, worldly women, a type he had never previously encountered, and he begins to enjoy talking of himself and his book in fashionable settings. Meanwhile his actual laboratory research, unknown to this new public and largely ignored by the wider world, continues quietly, funded now by the book's profits, which let him acquire instruments and materials he had previously lacked. Professor Pease, a scientific colleague seemingly indifferent to or unaware of "The Vital Thing," urges the Professor to write up his real scientific findings — his patient, years-long investigation nearing a significant discovery — into a proper book, telling him "it's time you wrote a work, anyhow." Moved deeply by this remark, the Professor resolves to abandon his lectures for a year and devote himself entirely to this serious work, and goes to Harviss to request an advance against future "Vital Thing" royalties to fund it. Harviss, however, informs him that the publisher has decided against a new edition: "The Vital Thing" has run its course commercially and needs a sequel or companion volume to revive interest, and the public will move on to another author if the Professor doesn't act quickly. When the Professor explains he intends instead to write "a real book — a serious one" in his own scientific field, Harviss expresses polite regret at losing him from the popular list but still advances him money against a pledge to deliver another popular volume by the following autumn. The Professor accepts the advance, telling himself he is merely postponing his true work by six months, and departs into the street, momentarily dazed, before smiling and raising his hat to a passing admirer of "The Vital Thing."

By Edith Wharton · First published 1899 · Genre: Literary Fiction, Social Criticism, Psychological Fiction · 6 chapters · 10,282 words

First lines

When Professor Linyard came back from his holiday in the Maine woods the air of rejuvenation he brought with him was due less to the influences of the climate than to the companionship he had enjoyed on his travels. To Mrs. Linyard's observant eye he had appeared to set out alone; but an invisible traveller had in fact accompanied him, and if his heart beat high it was simply at the pitch of his adventure: for the Professor had eloped with an idea.

What this Textopian page supports

The Descent of Man is listed on Textopian as a short story by Edith Wharton, dated 1899 CE.

This source record anchors work identity, reading entry points, and catalog context for checking claims about the work.

Good citation fit

Discussion starters

Similar titles

Genres

Tags

Philosophy · Evolution · Science · Theory · Human Nature · Sociology · Anthropology · Psychology · Intellectual History · Critical Thinking · Rationalism · Enlightenment

Contents

More by Edith Wharton