#£Sf/f£ Library of the University of Toronto Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Toronto https://archive.org/details/dialoguesoninsti00brou_0 DIALOGUES ON INSTINCT WITH ANALYTICAL VIEW OF THE RESEARCHES ON FOSSIL OSTEOLOGY. BY HENRY, LORD BROUGHAM, F.R.S., And Member of the National Institute of France. LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT AND CO., LUDGATE STREET. . London: — Printed by W. Clowes and Sons, Stamford Street. NOTICE FROM THE EDITOR OF THE WEEKLY VOLUME. Lord Brougham has kindly consented to the re- publication, in this cheap and compact form, of his “ Dialogues on Instinct ” and his 66 View of the Researches on Fossil Osteology,” which formed a considerable part of his “ Dissertations on subjects of Science connected with Natural Theology,” in the two supplementary volumes of the edition of Raley’s “ Natural Theology,” in 5 vols., by Lord Brougham and the late Sir Charles Bell. Lord Brougham has translated the Latin quotations for this edition. IV CONTENTS. OF INSTINCT. PAGE FIRST BOOK, OR DIALOGUE.— (Facts.) . . . 13 SECOND BOOK, OR DIALOGUE.— (Theory.) . . 53 THIRD BOOK, OR DIALOGUE. Animal Intelligence. — (Facts.) 96 FOURTH BOOK, OR DIALOGUE. Animal Intelligence — (Theory.) 137 NOTE TO THE DIALOGUES 165 NOTE ON THE GLOW-WORM 166 ANALYTICAL VIEW OF CUVIER’S RESEARCHES ON FOSSIL OSTEOLOGY, AND APPLICATION TO NA- TURAL THEOLOGY 171 LABOURS OF CUVIER’S SUCCESSORS 239 NOTES ON THE FOSSIL OSTEOLOGY 267 GENERAL NOTE RESPECTING EVIDENCES OF DESIGN 269 Place — Brougham, in Westmoreland. Time— Sept. 1837. Persons — A. Lord Spencer (Althorp). B* Lord Brougham. OF INSTINCT. BOOK, OR DIALOGUE I. INSTINCT— Introduction; (Facts). When the General Election of 1837 was near its close, and every day brought the accounts of those mighty boasts of our expected successes under the new reign, so idly made, being overthrown by the activity and resources of our adversaries and the listlessness of the people on our behalf, Lord A. came to me on his way to the North, where he was minded to diversify with field-sports his habitual life of farming. Those pursuits had never inter- fered with the duty he owed his country as long as he deemed that the sacrifice of all his domestic comforts could prove serviceable to his public prin- ciples ; nor had they ever at any time prevented him from cultivating a sound philosophy, in the study of which much of his leisure is always con- sumed. When I passed a few days with him at Wiseton, the summer before, we had discussed to- gether some of the more interesting topics which form the subject of these speculations, connected with Natural Theology, though of a substantive interest independent of the relation in which they B 14 INSTINCT. stand to that sublime inquiry ; and, while I re- mained at Harrington, we had corresponded con- stantly on the subject of Instinct, one of the most curious in its minute details and of the most inter- esting in its bearings upon the philosophy of mind, independent of its immediate connexion with theo- logical speculations, but, it must at the same time be admitted, one of the most difficult, and upon which the labours of philosophers have cast a very imperfect light. It was natural then that we should renew these discussions when we afterwards met in Westmoreland. The weather being fine, we ranged somewhat among the lake scenery, and by the rivers and through the woods which variegate our northern country. There was not much to tempt us in the aspect of public affairs, which, if not gloomy for the country at large, was yet not very flattering for the liberal party, among whom the single object seemed now to be the retention of office, and who might say with the Roman patriot in the decline of liberty, — “ Nostris enim vitiis, non casu aliquo, rempublicam verbo retinemus, reapse vero jampridem amisimus.”* Nor, indeed, on these matters was there a perfect agreement between us two ; for while we augured as little fa- vourably the one as the other of our prospects, we ascribed to different causes the condition of affairs which gave rise to these forebodings : he, tracing it to the great natural weight and influence of the Tories throughout the country, both in church and state ; I, relying more on the energies of an im- proved and active people, provided the government * “ By our own misconduct, not by any calamity, though we may still have the name of a free government, we yet have lost the reality.” — Cic. Frag, de Rep. lib. v. FACTS. 15 had acted so as to merit their support ; but lament- ing that no pains had been taken by them to show any superiority of popular principles, or make the country feel itself better off under their rule than they would have been under the adverse faction, while I perceived sufficiently plain indications that the accession of the Court favour in this new reign would have the effect of lessening rather than pro- moting any popular tendencies which might still exist. Altogether, therefore, the state of the com- monwealth was a subject less suited to engage our conversation ; and we naturally dwelt little upon passing and unpleasing topics, as unsatisfactory, transitory, and fleeting — “ ista quae nec percunctari nec audire sine molestia possumus.”* But upon those matters of permanent interest and universal importance, and which the follies or faults of men could not despoil of their dignity or deprive of their relish, we loved to expatiate ; and coming to the island in the neighbouring river, found a con- venient seat where the discussion might be carried on under the cool shade which the wood afforded against an autumnal sun : “ Here,” said I, “ we may resume our Wiseton conversation.” — u Yen- turn in insulam est. Ilac vero nihil est amcenius ; utenim hoc quasi rostro finditur Fibrenus, et divisus equaliter in duas partes latera haec alluit, rapi- deque dilapsus cito in unum confluit, et tantum complectitur quod satis sit modicae palaestrae loci ; quo effecto tanquam id habuerit operis ac muneris ut hanc nobis efficeret sedem ad disputandum, statim praecipitat in Lirem.”f — “ Here,” said I, “ we may * “ Things which we can neither inquire about nor hear without vexation.” — Cic. Acad. Qwest, lib. ii. t “ We came to the island. But than this spot nothing B 2 16 INSTINCT. resume our Wiseton conversation “si videtur considamus hie in umbra, atque ad earn partem ser- monis ex qua egressi sumus revertamur.”* A. Have you reconsidered my opinion, or rather the inclination of opinion, which I had last year, that it will be advisable, if not necessary, to begin with defining Instinct, in order that we may the more clearly understand what we are discussing ? JB. I have indeed ; and I remain of my own, as often happens through obstinacy and unwillingness to give up a preconceived notion ; but here it is, I believe, from much reflection upon the subject, that I still regard the definition as rather the end of our inquiry than its commencement. Indeed, this may generally be observed of metaphysical, or rather psychological inquiries : they are not like those of the mathematician, who must begin by defining ; but that is because his definition is, in fact, a statement of part of the hypothesis in each proposition. Thus, whoever enunciates any pro- position respecting a property of the circle predi- cates that property of a figure whose radii are all equal ; and it is as if he began by saying, “ Let there be a curve line, such that all the straight lines drawn from its points to another point within can be more agreeable ; for here the Fibrenus is split as by the prow of a vessel, and being divided into two equal branches, washes the sides ; then, after rapidly separating, it quickly unites in one stream, embracing space enough of ground for a moderate-sized place of exercise : after which, as if it only had the wrork and office of providing us with a seat for our discussion, it straightway falls into the Lii'is.” — Cic. de Leg. lib. ii. * “ If you please we may here sit down under this shade, and revert to that part of our conversation from which we had departed.,, — Cic. de Leg. lib. ii. FACTS. 17 it are equal, then I say that the rectangles are equal, which, &c.” The general definition only saves the trouble of repeating this assumption, as part of the hypothesis in each proposition. But the nature of instinct, or of any other thing of which we discourse in psychology, is not the hypo- thesis we start from ; it is the goal or conclusion we are seeking to arrive at. Indeed, so it is in physical science also ; we do not begin, but end, by defining the qualities of bodies, or their action on one another. A. I grant this. But if there be more things than one which men call by the same name, for example, of Instinct, must we not begin by ascer- taining what we mean by the word, in order to avoid confusion ? And this seems to bring on the necessity at least of some definition. B. I agree that there must in this case be a definition ; but it is only a definition of terms, and does not imply our stating the nature of the thing defined : it only implies that we must understand what the thing is to which the given word applies, and, if two things go under the same name, that we should be agreed in the outset which of the two things we mean when we use the word ; perhaps, that we invest some second name, or give some qualifying addition to the given one, to express one of the two things, and keep the different mean- ings distinct. A. The best way will be that we should come to particulars — give an example or two : perhaps it may suffice to mention the different kinds of Instinct, if, which I take for granted you do not doubt, there be more things than one going under that name. 18 INSTINCT. JB. Certainly; and there can here be no diffi- culty at all in our way ; and, to show you how little alarmed I am at defining, when it is clear that I am only called upon to define a word, and thereby make a distinct reference to a thing known or unknown in its own nature — not to pretend giving an account of that nature — I will at once begin by both inventing names and defining their meaning. There are some Instincts which may be called physical, and others mental , in the animal system ; by physical I mean those actions or mo- tions or states of body which are involuntary ; as the action of the heart, and the peristaltic motion of the bowels, over which, generally speaking, we have no direct control by the operation of the will — for I put out of view such rare instances, almosf monstrous, as Darwin has recorded of a person who could suspend the pulsations of his heart at pleasure, and another, still more rare, of one who could, at will, move his bowels by acce- lerating the peristaltic action.* Even if all men could acquire such control over those motions, they would still be involuntary ; because they could still be carried on wholly without our will interfering, and without our minds necessarily having any knowledge whatever of them. So the secretions are all performed involuntarily, and may go on wholly without our knowledge ; we can affect them as we can the involuntary motions of the heart and fluids, indirectly, because the passions and feelings of the mind have always an effect upon them ; but still they exist and proceed, the parts perform their functions, and those functions serve the ends of their appointment, wholly independent * Zoonomia. FACTS. 19 of our will, or of any effort whatever on our part. We can affect them also immediately through the influence of physical agents, voluntarily applied as stimulants or sedatives, or the operation of volun- tary motion, as well as mediately by the power which the mind derives from its union with the body ; but they can go on of themselves, and, in all cases of healthy condition, go on better without any the least interruption on our part than with it. A. This is certain : my only doubt is whether these can be justly or correctly termed instinctive operations at all. When I speak of Instinct, I mean something very different ; namely, those vo- luntary movements, or that voluntary action of the mental faculties which is contradistinguished from reason. However, there is no harm, but much convenience, in beginning by defining and classifying, so as to leave on one side the physical and involuntary instincts — those things which may properly enough be called incidents of animal life, because there seems great difficulty in drawing a line between such motions and actions and those which subsist in vegetables. B. There does certainly appear to be this diffi- culty. I hardly see how any line can be drawn between the motions of the lowest species of animal, the mollusca for instance, and those found in plants. There is in both organized form, a system of ves- sels, growth by extension not by apposition, a cir- culation of fluids and secretion of solids from those fluids, or of one fluid from another. There is also production of seed, and from the seed continuation of the species. But it is not only convenient that we should define in order to leave on one side what we are not to discuss, that it may not confound our 20 INSTINCT. inquiry ; the definition and classification may also carry us on, some little way, in our argument with respect to the other class of Instincts, Instinct properly so called, the Mental Instincts; at least, it seems to furnish us at the very outset with an analogy. A. I have a dread, at least a suspicion, of all analogies, and never more than when on the slip- pery heights of an obscure subject ; when we are as it were inter apices of a metaphysical argument, and feeling, perhaps groping, our way in the dark or among the clouds. I then regard analogy as a dangerous light, a treacherous ignis fatuns . B. It is even so, if we follow it beyond where we can see quite clear and find a firm footing. But all light is good, and the best way is not to despair, still less put out any glimmering we have, but rather to increase it by adding others, or make it available by using apt instruments. However^ we are getting too metaphorical ; only it is my com- fort that you began, and that I am led astray by one who (as you said in your inimitable letter to your Lancashire antagonist) is not one of “ the eloquent people.” But to return from where your poetical imagery led us— analogy may sometimes illustrate, ancl it may often lead to useful and strict inquiry, by suggesting matters for comparison and investigation. A . Then what comparison do you make between the two kinds of Instinct ? or rather, as the question is of analogy, how do you state a relation of the mental Instinct, which we shall call Instinct simply if you please, similar to or identical with some re- lation of physical Instinct ? 13. As thus — the physical Instincts are indepen,- FACTS. 21 dent of will, or mind altogether, though they never are found except where animal life and conse- quently mind exists ; but yet mind may influence them. Just so the mental Instincts are indepen- dent of reason altogether, though they are found in union with it and reason may influence them. It is a question if they are ever found without rea- son ; for that depends on our solution of the vexata qucestio , “ Whether the lower animals have reason at all or no ?” Therefore, I will not say that here the analogy is complete, and will not affirm that, as physical Instinct is never found without animal life, so mental Instinct is never found without reason ; but we may safely say that in this other respect the analogy is perfect, namely, that where mental Instinct is found with reason it can act without reason, though reason may also interfere with it ; and in this respect, at least, reason seems to bear the same relation to mental Instinct which animal life bears to physical Instinct. We may go further, and add, that as in plants, where the mo- tions are without animal life, those motions are more perfect and more undisturbed, so if there be any animal wholly without reason, the operations of mental Instinct are the more regular and perfect ; and, in any animal whatever, they are so in pro- portion as reason is dormant or inactive. A . It may be as you say ; but this will not carry us, as you seem to be aware, far on our road. However, it is well enough to remark it ; for we thus gain perhaps a clearer and more steady view of the relation between Reason and Instinct, always supposing that there is any warrant for treating the two as different : because you are aware that some have considered them as identical : I mean b 3 22 INSTINCT. not merely by denying1 that there is any specific difference, any difference in kind, between our faculties and those of brutes — though this denial is of course involved in their doctrine — but by going a step further, and holding that what we call our Reason, and are so proud of, is merely a bundle of Instincts, as some have termed it — a more acute and perfect degree of Instinct. Smellie, in his entertaining work on the Philosophy of Natural History, holds this opinion. — That is a book, by the way, much less esteemed than it deserves, even as a collection of facts and anecdotes ; but I also think the honest printer (for such he was) had a good deal of the philosopher in him. I suppose, as the well-educated printers in the foreign university towns, and some of our own Oxford men, used to be critics and scholars, from the atmosphere of the place, so your Edinburgh printer, when well bred, is a metaphysician. B. You are right as to Smellie at least, and I agree with you as to his book, though it is too long, and in parts loosely reasoned, as well as not over-accurate in his facts, according to what I have heard from naturalists. But he was a man of considerable merit ; and lived a good deal in the literary and scientific circles of Edinburgh. I knew him, but slightly. He would have done much more had his habits been less convivial. But I rather fancy the somewhat pretending title of his book tended to make men disallow the merit which it unquestionably has. A. But what do you hold of the dogma in ques- tion, and of which he is perhaps the most round asserter ? B. I entirely deny it ; nor do I conceive that FACTS. 23 any part of the subject is more free from all doubt than this, unless indeed we come to the question of liberty and necessity, and resolve the whole into a mere dispute about terms. A. Liberty and necessity! preserve us! — lam taken by surprise. Why I had no idea that we could ever have got among those heights and clouds already — “ apart set on a hill retired/’ and reasoning on a free-will,” like the gentry more acute than amiable, who held their metaphysical disputations there. B. Don’t be alarmed — but the subjects in one single point do certainly touch. What I mean is this : if you say that, when a man reasons, one idea suggests another, and that he must follow the train, and can no more avoid drawing his conclusion, when he compares two ideas, than a bird can avoid building its nest in a particular fashion, or a bee can help making hexagonal cells, then you seem doubtless to liken Reason with Instinct. But this is true only on the supposition that a man’s mind is mechanical, and that his faculties are placed be- yond his control. Now, suppose it to be admitted that I cannot avoid drawing a certain conclusion from premises in mathematical matters — as that the three angles of a figure are equal to two right angles, if that figure have those three angles only — I am under no such necessity in any question of moral or probable evidence ; and on a question like that different minds will differ, or the same mind at different times. Again, I am under no necessity — even if I admit that I have no choice on moral evidence — I am under no necessity of exercising my volition in one given way, unless indeed you deny that I have ever any free-will at all. If so, and if 24 INSTINCT. you contend that, the same motives being presented to my volition in the same circumstances, I must needs choose the same course, you may also con- tend that, the same circumstances being presented to my judgment in the same frame of the feelings, I must needs draw the same conclusion ; and this may seem to make out an identity of Reason with Instinct : but this is the dispute of liberty and ne- cessity which every man’s consciousness and hourly experience decides in favour of liberty, except in so far as it is a mere dispute about terms. But I really do think that, allowing the question to be disposed of either way, there is a specific difference between Reason and Instinct : for, even upon the principle of necessity, suppose the man and the bee to be equally under the entire control of the premises in reasoning, and the circumstances or motives in willing, whatever it is that each does, be it the necessary consequence of the circum- stances or not, is different in the two cases. Sup- pose that if the bee reasoned she would be under the necessity of drawing the same conclusion, and that if she exercised an election, she could not avoid choosing one course, and that it is the same with the man — it still is not only not proved that the bee does reason or choose, while we know that the man does, but the contrary seems proved. A. How so? Were I to maintain the contrary I should deny that we have any such proof. How do you prove the negative proposition, that the bee does not reason and will ? B. Observe, I do not say we have the proof of the negative as clearly as we have of the affirmative. But, beginning with laying aside those actions of animals which are either ambiguous or are refer- FACTS. 25 able properly to reason, and which, almost all phi- losophers allow, show a glimmering of reason ; and confining ourselves to what are purely instinctive, as the bee forming a hexagon without knowing what it is, or why she forms it ; my proof of this not being reason, but something else, and some- thing not only differing from reason in degree but in kind, is from a comparison of the facts — an ex- amination of the phenomena in each case — in a word, from induction. I perceive a certain thing done by this insect, without any instruction, which we could not do without much instruction. I see her working most accurately without any expe- rience, in that which we could only be able to do by the expertness gathered from much experience. I see her doing certain things which are manifestly to produce an effect she can know nothing about, for example, making a cell and furnishing it with carpets and with liquid, fit to hold and to cherish safely a tender grub, she never having seen any grub, and knowing nothing of course about grubs, or that any grub is ever to come, or that any such use, perhaps any use at all, is ever to be made of the work she is about. Indeed, I see another in- sect, the solitary wasp, bring a given number of small grubs and deposit them in a hole which she has made, over her egg, just grubs enough to main- tain the worm that egg will produce when hatched — and yet this wasp never saw an egg produce a worm — nor ever saw a worm — nay, is to be dead long before the worm can be in existence — and moreover she never has in any way tasted or used these grubs, or used the hole she made, except for the prospective benefit of the unknown worm she is never to see. In all these cases, then, the ani- 26 INSTINCT. mal works positively without knowledge, and in the dark. She also works without designing any- thing, and yet she works to a certain defined and important purpose. Lastly, she works to a per- fection in her way, and yet she works without any teaching or experience. Now, in all this she differs entirely from man, who only works well, perhaps at all, after being taught — who works with know- ledge of what he is about — and who works, intend- ing and meaning, and, in a word, designing to do what he accomplishes. To all which may be added, though it is rather perhaps the consequence of this difference than a separate and substantive head of diversity, the animal works always uniformly and alike, and all his kind work alike — whereas no two men work alike, nor any man always, nay any two times alike. Of all this I cannot indeed be quite certain as I am of what passes within my own mind, because it is barely possible that the insect may have some plan or notion in her head im- planted as the intelligent faculties are : all I know is the extreme improbability of it being so ; and that I see facts, as her necessary ignorance of the existence and nature of her worm, and her working without experience, and I know that if I did the same things I should be acting without having learnt mathematics, and should be planning in ignorance of unborn issue ; and I therefore draw my inference accordingly as to her proceedings. A. Come, come, Master B., I begin to surround you and drive you from your original position, maintained both now and last summer, about the impossibility of defining. Have you not as nearly as possible been furnishing a definition ? At least, are not the materials of definition brought together FACTS. 27 which you deprecated, and would have us reserve to the last ? B. Patience, good man — patience ! What is this to what you have gone through ? Fancy yourself once more in the House of Commons, on the Treasury bench, listening to A. God forbid ! B . Or suppose yourself again in Downing Street, with Drummond announcing a succession of seven deputations or of seventeen suitors. A. The bare possibility of it drives me wild. Why, to convert you to the most absurd doctrine I could fancy — to make you swallow all the Zoonomia whole, and believe that men derive their love of waving lines and admiration of finely- moulded forms from the habit of the infant in handling his mother’s bosom, or even to drive you into a belief that the world was made by chance — would be an easy task compared to the persuading any one suitor at any one of the offices that you had any difficulty in giving him all he asks, or convincing any one of those seven deputations that there exists in the world another body but itself. B. Or to convince any one man, who ever asked any one job to be done for him, that he had any one motive in his mind but the public good, to which he was sacrificing his private interest. I remember M, [Melbourne] once drolly observ- ing, when I said no man could tell how base men are till he came into office, “ On the contrary, I never before had such an opinion of human virtue ; for I now find that no man ever drops the least hint of any motive but disinterestedness and self- denial — and all idea of gain, or advantage, is the only thing that none seem ever to dream of.” But 28 INSTINCT. now compose yourself to patience and discussion — take an extra pinch of snuff — walk about for five m minutes, a distance of five yards and back, with your hands in your breeches’ pockets, and then re- turn to the question with the same calmness with which you would have listened to a man abusing you by the hour in Parliament, or with which you looked an hour ago, in the Castle farm, at the beast you had bred, and which by your complacent aspect I saw you had sold pretty well. A. But, indeed, I sometimes can’t help fancying that it may be as well to take our observations upon Instinct from the operations and habits of such large animals as him you speak of — at least, not from insects ; because it is possible that if we could see as accurately all the detail of the latter as we do of the former, much of the marvellous might disappear, and we might be as well able to account for their proceedings, which now seem to us so unintelligible, as we are to account for those of the greater animals, which are clumsy and cumbrous enough, and rather appear to proceed from an obscure glimmering of reason than from an inexplicable power guiding them unconsciously to work with the perfection which we ascribe to the bee. In a word, might not the cells be found to have as many imperfections, as great deviations from the true form, as any of the ox’s operations have from perfect exactness, if either the bee were as large as the ox, or our senses as acute as the bee’s ? Has she not as great aberrations from the exact pattern in proportion to her own size and to the instruments, her feet and feelers, which she works with ? I throw this out as a matter very fit to be settled in the outset, in order that our FACTS. 29 own reasoning may not proceed upon gratuitous assumption. JB. For the sake of ascertaining how far the working is as perfect as it appears, I admit the importance of your observation ; but for nothing more. I deny that it affects the body of the argument at all ; because that depends in no degree upon the perfection of the work. Thus the pro- ceedings of the solitary wasp are just as good for my purpose as those of the bee. Nay, the in- stinctive operations of the greater animals furnish exactly the same materials for reasoning, though they may not be so striking. However, to the point of your comparison — you must keep in mind that we have applied the powers of the microscope to the operations of the bee. Now, without going to an instrument of the power of Torre’s, which magnified the linear dimensions between 2000 and 3000 times, and consequently the surface above 6,000,000 of times, take the much more ordinary power of 400, which magnifies the surface 160, 000- fold — nay, if you take a microscope of only a 90-times magnifying power, you will see the work of the bee in a straight line, exactly as you do that of a man with the naked eye. But, I need hardly add that, if you only saw it a quarter as well, or with a glass that magnified 20 times, it would be enough : for then you would examine it as you do the beaver’s with your naked eye. But, further, all the difficulty you suggest proceeds upon a fallacy. The lines may not be exactly even which the bee forms ; the surfaces may have inequalities to the bee’s eye though to our sight they seem plane ; and the angles, instead of being pointed, may be blunt or roundish : but the pro- 30 INSTINCT. portions are the same ; the equality of the sides is maintained, and the angles are of the same size ; that is, the inclination of the planes is just — in other words, all the inequalities don’t affect the proportions of the parts ; for they are common to each thing compared with another ; the axis run- ning through the inequalities (to speak more rigorously) is in the true direction, and the junc- tion of the two axes forms the angle of 60° as accurately as if there were no inequalities. Now, then, the bee places a plane in such a position, whatever be the roughness of its surface, that its inclination to another plane is the true one required. * A. I suppose it is so ; but, at any rate, the solitary wasp carrying the grubs in proper number and placing them in the hole over the egg, or the bee placing her egg in the liquor at the bottom of the cell, and making that cell of the length to which the worm when hatched will grow — she having never seen either the worm or the chrysalis — is sufficient for our purpose. JB . Not to mention the operations of the worm itself in spinning the cocoon, and making it pre- cisely the size required to line or carpet the cell when expanded and applied to it — nay, the mo- tions of the chick in the egg, which always begins at the same place, and moves itself on in the same direction, chipping away till it effects its own liberation — all of which must be prior to ex- perience, and without the possibility of teaching. A. You desired me last summer to examine, with a view to the same point, the ducklings hatched under a hen, and then taking the water, without the possibility of her teaching. They FACTS. 31 have the form, web-feet, &c., which enables them to swim, and which a chicken has not. Their manner of getting into the water I cannot say I well ascertained ; but it is certain enough that the hen’s proper brood would not have got in, and probably she would have succeeded in preventing them, though she might not be able to keep the ducklings out. J5. However, a more decisive case occurred to me afterwards : that of chickens hatched in the Egyptian ovens. I have lately seen an intelligent Bey and his aide-de-camp, who gave me the whole process ; and, as was to be expected, there is not the slightest difference between the conduct and motions, and habits generally, of these chickens, and of such as are hatched and brought up by hens. This fact, as well as the working of the chrysalis in spinning the cocoon, and of the chick in chipping with its bill-scale, renders it quite un- necessary to inquire whether or not the honey-bee or social wasp work by instruction from other bees or wasps. That, however, appears to be impos- sible, when we consider that as many as 30,000 young insects come from one nest, to teach whom there are not old ones anything like enough ; and to teach whom in a few hours, or even days, to work as exactly as themselves seems wholly im- possible. The observation of cases where such teaching is impossible, as in the chrysalis and un- hatched chicken, at once removes all doubt, and precludes the possibility of supposing that the wasp’s and the Jiee’s architecture can be traditional, or handed down by teaching, from the first insects of the species that were created. Henceforward, therefore, we must assume as part of the fact that 32 INSTINCT. the cells of the bee are made without any instruc- tion or any experience, and are as perfect at first as they ever are ; which, by the way, explains another peculiarity of instinct — that it never im- proves in the progress of time. The bee, 6000 years ago, made its cells as accurately, and the wasp its paper as perfectly, as they now do. A. Let us advert to one thing more, and, hav- ing settled it, the way may at least be said to be cleared for the argument, perhaps somewhat of progress even to be made in the inquiry. You have been speaking of Instincts in the plural ; of course you do not mean to be taken literally, as admitting more kinds of mental Instinct than one. JB . Certainly not ; any more than when speak- ing of the mental faculties I admit of more minds than one, or more parts than one of a single mind. This last form of speech has been so used, or rather abused, especially by the philosophers of the Scottish school, accurate and strict as they for the most part are, that they seem to treat the mind as divided into compartments, and to represent its faculties as so many members, like the parts of the body. But it is one thing or being perceivings comparing, recollecting — not a being of parts, whereof perception is one, reasoning another, and recollection a third ; so Instinct is one and indi- visible, whatever we may hold it to be in its nature, or from whatever origin we may derive it. This thing, or being, is variously applied, and operates variously. There are not different In- stincts, as of building, of collecting food for future worms, of emigrating to better climates — but one Instinct, which is variously employed or directed. I agree with you, however, that we have now done FACTS. 33 something more than merely clearing away the ground. We have taken a first step, or, if you will, laid a foundation. We have ascertained the peculiar or distinctive quality of Instinct, and that which distinguishes it from Reason. It acts with- out teaching, either from others, that is, instruction, or from the animal itself, that is, experience. This is generally given as the definition or descrip- tion of Instinct. But we have added another peculiarity, which seems also a necessary part of the description — it acts without knowledge of con- sequences— it acts blindly, and accomplishes a purpose of which the animal is ignorant. A. I pause here and doubt of this addition. I perfectly admit the fact that it produces an effect, manifestly the object of its operation, and yet without knowing it, consequently without intend- ing it or designing it. But there seems reason to think that it always intends to produce some one effect, and does produce it — that it has some one purpose, and accomplishes it, and so designs some- thing which it does. Thus animals are impelled by hunger to eat; their eating produces chyle, blood, and all that is secreted from the blood ; yet they had no design to promote their own growth and preserve their own life. At least they ate long before they had any such design or any know- ledge that such would be the consequence of gratifying hunger. So of continuing their species. May not the solitary wasp, for instance, have its organs and its senses so constructed as to receive an immediate gratification from collecting and burying grubs? If so, her knowledge extended to one, the first, event, and she had the design in view of producing this event ; though wholly 34 INSTINCT. ignorant of any subsequent event. The desire of the first event, the fact of that event being a gratification to the insect, was the means taken by the Creator of the insect for making her do that which was to produce the important consequence, forming the real object in view, though concealed from the animal. Thus we may conceive that the insect is endowed with an appetite for carrying grubs, and that this is so adjusted in point of in- tensity as to be satiated when just so many grubs are transported as will feed the next season’s worm, which is endowed with the desire to eat these grubs, rejected as food by the parent insect. So the wasp’s senses may make the flavour, or the smell (for that seems all she enjoys), of a living caterpillar more grateful than of a dead one ; and hence she takes those that will keep sweet till her own grub is hatched. B . I do not deny the possibility of all this ; although there seems something gratuitous in it, and we possibly never can know the truth by any observations or experiments. I shall presently show why I do not think it would entitle us to erase this ignorance of what you would call the second event, or the object of the secondary design, from our list of the characteristics of Instinct. But in the meantime I will mention what occurs to me on your objection in point of fact. The instant that a solitary wasp is hatched, or a bee can fly, away they go to the spot where the caterpillars or the wax -yielding substances are to be found. What guides them through the air to things they cannot descry or do not know the use of? A. It costs me no more to suppose that there is some smell or other sensation to guide them — some FACTS. 35 odour, for example, which penetrates the air, and being grateful to them makes them desire to ap- proach the odoriferous body. Thus the bee smells the nectary of flowers ; she dies to them, she sips, and the wax is secreted in her stomach. I grant you that I have more difficulty with her operation in using it. B. You clearly have ; for what should be the special gratification of that? We are admitting that she has no kind of knowledge that the cell is to be used in hatching and rearing the brood, any more than that an hexagonal figure, with a certain inclination of its rhomboidal bottom, is to enable her and her associates to employ the space and the wax in the way of all others most economical of room and work and materials ; and so as just to accommodate the size of the unknown and unseen worm, chrysalis, or young bee, and no more — and also to suit its form. A. I think I could suppose also in this case that her desire of action — her love of motion — is grati- fied by the operation, and is satiated by continuing that motion to a certain extent, where she stops. B. But allowing your right to make all these suppositions equally gratuitous, one after another, and to extend them as the argument proceeds, and to relieve the pressure as the fact pinches — see what it is that you must assume. The comb is constructed thus. Wax-making bees bring a small mass of this material and place it vertically to the plane from which the comb is to hang down. Then other bees begin to excavate, one on one side, another on the other, and they work with such perfect nicety, as never to penetrate through the thin layer of wax ; also so equally that the 36 INSTINCT. plate is of equal thickness all throughout, its sur- faces being parallel. You must, therefore, sup- pose some repugnance at once to a plate ever so little thicker, and to one ever so little thinner than the plate’s given thickness. Indeed, this supposi- tion, which some naturalists have made, is wholly unsatisfactory, and shows no accurate regard to the facts any more than their notion (a most crude one) that the hexagon cells arise from so many cylinders pressing on each other. The supposed instinct not to perforate wax, but to draw back when they come to a given thickness, is inconsistent with the fact ; for the original plate they work on is uneven and of different thicknesses on both sides, and there is no bee in the world that ever made cylindrical cells. Huber has distinctly shown, from having observed them at their work, that they make them in quite another way ; nor indeed, if they did, could any pressure ever produce hexagons, and far less rhom- boidal plates. The wax-worker’s bringing plates of a given thickness is also wholly incapable of accounting for the angles, that is, the inclination of the plates — for supposing the bee to make a groove (as she does), and suppose she has some means of bisecting its arc by two chords, this only, with the thickness of the cake, would determine the depth of the rhomboid, and that can be easily shown not to be the rhomboid actually made. She therefore makes angles wholly independent of the thickness, not to mention that were we to admit that the cake’s thickness governs the whole, we do not solve the problem ; the difficulty is only re- moved a step ; for then how is that exact thickness obtained ? But this will not do even to that ex- tent ; a great deal more is done by the bee, and a FACTS. 37 great deal more must be supposed to make it con- ceivable that she has any immediate or primary intention. She works so that the rhomboidal plate may have one particular diameter and no other, and always the same length, and that its four angles may be always the same, the opposite ones equal to each other, but each two of different quantity from the other two ; and then she inclines the plates at given angles to one another. Why is there such a gratification to the bee in a straight line — in a straight line at right angles to a plane — in rhom- boids— in rhomboids with certain angles— any more than in lines or planes inclining at other angles to one another ? Why is the bee, after working for half a quarter of a line in one direction, to go on, and not take delight in a change of direction ? If she goes on, why is she to be pleased with stopping at one particular point ? Nay, why is each bee to take delight in its own little part of the combined operation ? Why is each to derive pleasure from doing exactly as much as is wanted, and in the direction wanted, in order that when added to what others have before done, and increased bv what others are afterwards to do, a given effect, wholly unknown to her and to all the rest, her coadjutors, may be produced ? A. It certainly is difficult to say. I can barely imagine the different bees so formed that some in- explicable gratification may be the consequence of moving in one line, and making one angle, and that any other line or angle whatever may be disagree- able to them. The concert in the operation of animals seems to increase this difficulty much, always supposing there is real concert without any arrangement, communication, or knowledge. No c 38 INSTINCT. man ever acted so as to make his operations chime in with another’s, unless he either had previous concert with that other, or both acted under a com- mon superior, and obeyed his direction ; and then the joint operation was that of this superior. But suppose a man were compelled by some feeling he could not account for, and did not at all understand, to go at a given time, to a certain place, and with such speed as to arrive there at a given moment, and were to find another just arrived there, who came to meet him without the former previously knowing of this, — we should have a case similar to that of animals acting in concert, supposing them to do so. There is, however, some doubt of this as to the bees ; for Huber has said that they all act in succession rather than co-operate contempora- neously. B. I really can see no difference that this makes in the argument as to concert. One bee brings wax and does not sculpture ; another sculptures and does not bring wax : but the wax-worker brings just as much as the sculpturing bee wants, and at the very time she wants it ; also, one works on the face, and another on the back of the same rhomboidal plate ; and all so work as never to interfere with or jostle one another, which is the perfection of concert, and can only among men be effected by discipline, which refers the whole of the different purposes to one superintendent, and makes his unity of design the guiding rule and impulse, because concert among the different agents is otherwise unattainable. But I own I can see no greater difficulty thrown in our way by concert than by blind agency — supposing it blind as to both the events, and not merely blind as to the secondary consequence — and your suppo- FACTS. 39 sition of a first event known and designed, the secondary being hidden from the animal, would, I think, account for a case of concert, as much as for any other operation ; for your hypothesis of sensa- tions and impulses would apply to concert. You might say that each bee was induced by the grati- fication of doing a certain thing, to take a certain line at such a time ; that what it did should answer to what some other bee was by the like means in- duced to do at the same time. I see no difference in the two applications of this hypothesis. A. I rather think the time makes some difference ; at least in rendering an addition to the hypothesis necessary. For though the gratification of bring- ing the caterpillars to its nest will account for the solitary wasp doing what is also to serve the pur- pose of feeding its young next season, something more is required than this motive to make one bee act in concert with another; it is necessary that there should be a gratification, not only in doing the thing required, but in doing it at the very mo- ment required ; so that both bees must be supposed to feel at the very same instant of time the desire of the gratification in question, and yet without any concert or communication. I hardly see how my supposition of sensations and pleasures or pains will explain this. JB. I all along have seen the greatest difficulty in your explanation ; but does this consideration of time increase it materially ? — or rather, is it not in all cases part of the riddle which instinctive opera- tions present to us ? Thus the solitary wasp acts, that is, according to your hypothesis, feels the given sensation or derives the supposed gratification at such precise time that her acting upon it will suit c 2 40 INSTINCT, the time required for the birth and growth of the worm. The bird breeds, — but before laying her eggs, and without any knowledge when she is to lay them, makes her nest, and it is ready at the very time required. Therefore she feels the desire of nest-making at the proper moment. I will admit, however, that there is something still more extraordinary in two separate and independent in- sects feeling the same impulse at the same moment ; and the difficulty is incalculably augmented, if twenty or thirty insects all have the impulse sepa- rately, but all at once, so as to act together. In- deed, I cannot help regarding your solution as not only a gratuitous hypothesis, for that it must needs be from the nature of the thing, but one hardly conceivable, and in truth as difficult to suppose possible as any other thing which we can fancy in order to explain the phenomenon — for instance, some invisible power or influence acting upon the animal, or upon the different animals at once. This is not at all more gratuitous, and it more easily explains the phenomenon. A. Consider if there is really any such essential difference between the case of instinct which we have been considering, and any of the best known operations of men, as well as animals, where we are not wont to speak of instinct at all. Thus men eat from hunger, which they intend to satisfy ; but the consequential effect, not intended, is chyli- fication, sanguification, secretion, and growth or sustentation of the body, as well as the effect in- tended, and immediately produced, of satisfying hunger. The mother eats things which satisfy her appetite, and that is all she cares for ; but those things also produce milk, which nourishes FACTS. 41 her infant, and that she never thought of. The time is also suited by the feeling. The hunger gives the supply when the system wants it ; the eating produces the milk when the infant requires it. How does this differ from the other case ? JB . Much every way. The difference is wide and marked. In the cases you put, the mental in- stinct is confined to produce the effect intended ; and having produced it, the mind stops there and does nothing more. The powers of matter, its physical qualities, set in motion, do the rest, of course beyond our direct control, and unaided by us as unknown to us. But in the case of Instinct the mind performs both parts — both the things which it knows and intends, and the thing which it neither knows nor intends. The mother eats — nature produces the milk without the least action of hers. But the bee not only gratifies herself (if that is the cause of her architecture) by the struc- ture of the cell, but by her art, by her work, she does the other thing also, that of providing a lodg- ing for her young. It is as if the mother in your supposed case were both to eat intentionally for satisfying her hunger, and at the same time, with- out knowing or intending it, were to make milk by some process of internal churning. It is as if in eating we at once chewed and swallowed, and also with our tongue or teeth or fingers made chyme, and then chyle, and then blood. It is as if the animal in pairing both gratified his sexual pas- sion and voluntarily made the young by some pro- cess of manipulation, though without knowing what he was about, or intending to do it. A. You must here distinguish a little, or rather you must take into your account a point of resent- 42 INSTINCT. blance which you are passing over. How can any one even acting with design affect matter in fashion- ing it or moulding it, except by availing himself of the powers, mechanical or chemical, belonging to matter ? If I distil, it is by availing myself of the process of fermentation and of evaporation, and of condensation. If I sow and reap, it is by availing myself of the prolific powers of heat and moisture in the process of vegetation. So even in processes where I seem to do more and nature to do less ; if I build, or carve, or weave, it is by availing myself of the qualities of cohesion and gravitation, and of the powers of the wedge in hewing, or of friction in polishing. Do not the animals who eat, the mo- thers who give suck after eating and thereby secret- ing milk, in like manner do part themselves, and as to the rest avail themselves of the powers of nature in chylification, sanguification, and secretion ? You perceive how much more nearly akin the cases are than you have stated. JB . I am well aware of it ; indeed, we are now coming nearly into the controversy about produc- tive labour, which you and I have often amused ourselves with as political economists ; when I have always held that it was a far less easy thing than those who discussed the metaphysical parts of that science supposed, to draw the line between produc- tive and unproductive labour, either by including manufactures or only commerce in the latter — and agriculture alone or with manufactures in the for- mer, the productive class. Be it so : I am content, if there be as marked a distinction here as between the labour which produces or moulds matter into a new substance, and that which only exchanges one tiling for another ; or defends the community, or FACTS. 43 administers justice among its members. But, in truth, we have, in our present argument, a specific difference, admitting all that you have urged, as to the affections and properties of matter being used by the animal in both processes. The great and broad difference is this. In the one case, as in the wasp carrying the caterpillar to its nest, which she does and means to do, or, if you will, gratifying her senses with the carrying, whatever instruments she works with, she does the thing knowingly and intentionally ; she does it by means of gravitation and cohesion, but still it is she, her action, her will, her mind that does it. In the other case, that of leaving the caterpillar in the nest for months, she has done ; she quits the work ; nothing she does is at all conducive to the operation then performed by nature ; but what she did was all that could be done excepting by nature. So the mother eats the galactigenous matter, and then has done ; nature does all the rest. But there is this material dif- ference in what the bee or the wasp does, — that she finishes the whole operation voluntarily ; it is as if the mother were not only to become gravid, but to prepare the child’s clothes and habitation herself, and yet to do this without knowing what she was about, and while she intended to do, and thought she was only doing, some perfectly different thing. If, indeed, you put the case of a person ploughing and sowing for the purpose of strengthening his limbs or amusing himself, and not meaning any- thing to grow, and also ignorant that anything will grow, and yet choosing the seed which will grow, and sowing it at the right time to make it grow — then you merely put the case of Instinct in other words ; and the one thing will be as difficult to 44 INSTINCT. explain as the other. And if one man should, by mere blind chance, do this the first time, and some other man, equally ignorant of what the use of thrashed wheat was, should reap and thrash it, and garner it away — and if all men were to do so in two bodies, equally ignorant of what they were about, and yet both chiming in with each other in their operations, and both agreeing with the nature of things, then we should say this is the self-same case with Instinct — but we should add that this could not happen without some overruling power not only giving those men the desire to stretch their limbs, but guiding them immediately how to do it — for there, as here, two designs and only one designer appears, and therefore some non-apparent contriver must exist and work. We may again put it thus — When a man brews or tills, he does something himself, and leaves the rest to the powers of nature. So when a mother eats or drinks to gratify hunger or thirst, she has done ; nature does the rest, namely, supports her body and secretes the milk for her young. But the bee or the wasp does the whole. They use the powers of matter, indeed, as the farmer and brewer do, and as the mother does, in the operation itself performed by them, namely, breaking the ground, throwing the seed, steeping the grain, eating the victuals — but the insects finish the operation, and leave nothing to be done. The solitary wasp has completed a cell and provided food ; the young have only to eat it. The bee has completed a cell with food like- wise. Neither mind nor matter on the part of either insect has anything more to do ; the thing they intended and knew all about is done, and in doing that thing they did something else neither FACTS. 45 known to nor intended by them. They only used the powers of matter in doing the thing they in- tended. They did not leave any natural powers to do the other thing not intended by them ; but they did it also, though unintentionally. Man does what he intended, but he does nothing more — nature does the rest, both where he intended it, as in ploughing or brewing, and where he did not, as after eating to satisfy his hunger. In the bee it is like a whole manufacture completed by the animal, though unintentionally ; as if a man were to make a skein of fine lace while he only meant to amuse himself with twirling the bobbins, or playing with his fingers among the flax or the threads. A. I certainly think we do get to something like a specific difference. But compare the work of the insect with certain chemical processes. If you mix, or if any natural process mixes, certain salts, and the liquor is left to evaporate, there are formed crystals, say hexagons, as accurately as the bee forms her cells. Also certain bodies move in lines which have properties similar to the angles in the comb, as a heavy body falling through the shortest of all lines. There is no doubt a difference here, and a marked one ; yet it is as well to consider it. 13. Doubtless there is a difference, and the greatest possible. These forms are assumed, and these motions performed : for instance, a stone falling to the ground in the shortest line, or the planets, all arranged respecting their masses, the direction of their motions, and the inclinations of the planes they move in, so as, according to La- place’s beautiful theorem, to preserve the system of the universe steady, by affixing limits, maxima and minima, between which the irregularities os- c 3 46 INSTINCT. cillate ; all these things are the direct and unin- terrupted agency of the property which the Deity has impressed on matter at its creation ; perhaps, of the laws which His power perpetually main- tains. But they are wholly unconnected with any animal workmanship of any kind ; they have no subordinate mind to guide them ; nor can any act of ours, or of any animal, affect them. On the contrary, in all our operations we must conform to them. A . Unquestionably it is so ; and this is the dis- tinction, and the broad one. But then it follows from the preceding deductions, that we must con- sider in the works of Instinct the animal acting as an agent, though ignorantly and unintentionally, — a tool or instrument blindly used to do a certain thing without its own knowledge or design ; and the tool being a living thing, the mind is the in- strument. In the case of matter, the matter is the instrument blindly serving the purpose by obeying the physical law. In our case the mind is the in- strument, and obeys the mental law as perfectly and as blindly. JB. There is one thing, however, always to be considered. We have hitherto been viewing In- stinct alone, and arguing as if animals always acted by it, and never otherwise. Now this is quite impossible, at least in the sense in which we have taken the word Instinct. There may be some doubt if we are right in so limiting the term, though I have a very clear opinion that we are. Paley and all or almost all others define Instinct to be a disposition or acting prior to experience, and independent of instruction. But among other objections, there is this one to the definition, that FACTS. 47 it amounts to saying “ an acting without know- ledge/’ and yet does not say it. There may be no experience, and yet no Instinct, e. g ., we may act on the information of others — but then what shall be said of the information given by reasoning ; that is, by our inferences from our own thoughts ? This is plainly not instruction. Is it experience ? If so, the definition seems only to say, that Instinct is anything that is not reason, in other words, that Instinct is Instinct. But I apprehend, when we speak of instinctive operations we always have an eye to some end which is blindly served by the act — some act done by the animal, in which he does what he does not mean, and in doing which he is a blind instrument. A. How is it when we speak of instinctive de- sires ? JB. I should say we then mean something differ- ent from merely animal or natural desires, for that would make every thing instinctive. We mean desires which are subservient to some purpose to- wards which they move : some end beyond the doing the act seems always involved in our notion of Instinct. We do not call mere moving, yawn- ing, stretching, instinctive ; and when we speak of sucking or eating, and the desire or power to suck or eat, as instinctive, it is surely with a regard to the subserviency of those operations to support life that we so term them. If they did nothing for our frame, we might call them natural, hardly instinctive. A. But be this as it may, no one can doubt that animals, if we allow them to have these Instincts, and to act for ends unknown to themselves, have other actions of a kind resembling our own, and 48 INSTINCT, quite distinguishable from what we have been calling Instincts ; therefore it signifies little whether or not we are right in giving the name to actions accomplishing undesigned and unknown purposes, provided we keep that definition in view. These animals also have other actions, where they both know and intend and accomplish their definite object. J3. Undoubtedly, they have many such in which their operations of mind and body cannot be dis- tinguished from our own. Now whether these are under the guidance of faculties like ours ; whether they have reason ; whether they have faculties differing from our own in kind, or only in degree — we need not at present stop to inquire. It is quite enough for us that they have two kinds of operations, one which we agree to call Instinctive, distinguished by the ignorance of the object and want of intention ; the other both knowingly and intentionally done : so man, acting almost always rationally, also acts in some rare cases uninten- tionally— chiefly in early infancy. A. There may be instinctive acts with know- ledge, and there may be acts not instinctive with- out knowledge. Does not this break in upon the definition which excludes knowledge as well as design ? Many parts of human conduct seem to be guided by Instinct, and yet with knowledge. JB. This would no doubt overturn the definition, provided it be clear that “ knowledge ” and the “ presence of knowledge ,” are here used in the same sense as in that definition. But we must make a distinction. There is a knowledge of some end or object in view, and a knowledge of the means whereby that end or object is to be attained ; FACTS. 49 in other words, of the mode of operating — of the process . There is also a distinction to be taken between instinctive desires and instinctive opera - tions. The objection you have now made refers to the former — to desires ; the latter, the operations, are chiefly referable to the great question respect- ing the controlling mind, or actual interposition of the Deity, to which we are approaching ; but it also refers, in some measure, to the objection which you raise. Knowledge of consequence comes within the description of object or end ; and if there be no intention to attain an end actually pursued, there can be no knowledge of it ; and conversely, if there be no knowledge of it, there can be no intention to attain it. Take any in- stance of what you call human instinct, as hunger, or the sexual passion — these are desires, and their gratification may be pursued without any know- ledge of, and consequently without any view to, the consequences of making chyle and blood to support the individual, or offspring to continue the race. As far as the mere gratification of the desire or supplying of the want goes, we may be said both to know what we are doing and to intend or mean to do it. We are attracted by our senses, that is, by the effect of our senses on our minds, to do certain things ; and this is called instinctive acting, — I apprehend incorrectly. It is natural desire, but why instinctive? When we say In- stinct, do we not mean something beyond this? Desires may be subservient to Instincts ; but are they all we mean by Instinct ? They may lead to the attainment of a certain end ; they may be the way in which Instincts operate : but are they themselves Instincts? If two foods are presented 50 INSTINCT. to an animal, a man for example, who knows nothing of either ; and he is impelled, without knowing why, to take the one and reject the other, and the one is wholesome and the other a poison ; we at once call this the operation of instinct, which some define to be knowledge without in- struction or experience, but which I have wished rather to call mental action without knowledge, or at least independent of knowledge. So in Galen’s beautiful experiment on the kid just born, having been taken out of the mother, and which of course had never sucked, when, upon many shallow pans with different liquids being placed near it, the animal preferred at once the pan containing goat’s milk. If the reason for the preference is some greater gratification of the senses, or that the one food is pleasing, for instance, in smell fragrant, and the other offensive, this may be the mode taken by nature to make Instinct operate according to your former hypothesis, which we have been discussing at large ; and we certainly cannot tell that such may not, in all cases, be the mode taken by nature for working to the same end. It seems, however, eminently unlikely that the whole opera- tions of bees, for example, should be owing to the pleasure their senses receive from one particular form and proportion alone, and a repugnance to all others, because of their being disagreeable to those senses. But do we not, in all cases, mean, by using the word Instinct, to point out the unknown connexion between the thing done and something else of which the animal — the agent — is not aware ? I grant you that we speak of Instinct of hunger and Instinct of sex ; but is not this only a way of saying, and do we not mean, merely desire of FACTS. 51 food or sex, the gratification of which is a natural propensity, and known and felt by us to be such ? Thus it is an Instinct which makes animals pro- pagate their kind while they merely mean to gratify their passions, and which enables them to prepare a nest, and have it quite ready at the very time they are to want it for laying their eggs in. We always seem to have the motive , the end , and the blind instrumentality in our view when we speak correctly of Instinct. I may intend to do a thing, and know both the object in view and that portion of the operation or process which depends on me— e. <7., to eat for the purpose of making chyle. My ignorance of that process, with which I have nothing to do, would not make the operation of mine be called an Instinct. Indeed, even if I eat to satisfy hunger, without any design of sup- porting the system, this act is not instinctive, except in so far as doing and meaning one thing, I am doing another thing ignorantly and uninten- tionally. A, I think we have got as far as we can in these preliminary discussions and observations of Facts, and may now proceed to Theorize and infer. JB . However, we are come, or coming, to a part of the subject where we should be among our books ; for we shall now have to look at them in proceeding further. At least, it is as well we should observe what has been held on this matter by philosophers. So we had better adjourn for the present ; and resume our conversation in the library, if indeed you, who are accustomed to Althorp and Spencer House, can condescend to call anything in this part of the world by that 52 INSTINCT. name. We commonly, from feeling this modesty, name it the Book-room. A. And I dare swear, also from your love of the Saxon idiom. B. Possibly ; though I would that our good old English never suffered more havoc than by calling Book-rooms Libraries. I expect to outlive it, as Serjeant Maynard said he had nearly done the law, with the lawyers. ( 53 ) BOOK OR DIALOGUE II. INSTINCT.— (Theory.) Having thus far carried on our discussion in the open air, we removed, towards the afternoon, to the library — “ cum satis ambulatum videretur? turn in bibliotheca assedimus — and there con- veniently pursued the subject, which greatly inter- ested us both. B. The manifest difference between Instinct and Reason which we have been observing, and its regular and constant action, always the same, and never improved, but never different,, indeed ap- parently incapable of improvement, was probably the consideration which induced Descartes to consider animals as machines. A . I am aware that this is commonly said of him. But I know not how that great man could really have held so untenable a position. Did he really consider them as mechanical contrivances — as mere physical substances, without anything answering to what we call Mind ? JB. He is always so represented ; but when you examine his own statement closely, you really find that this is an exaggeration, and that his doctrine * “ When we thought we had walked long enough, we took our seats in the library Cic. de Div. ii. 54 INSTINCT. differs not very much from that commonly received. As has oftentimes happened to others, his senti- ments are rather taken from the statement of them by those who were controverting them, than from his own words. A . Where are they to be found? JB. Look here — you have them in the short treatise on Method, the introduction to his work on Dioptrics and Meteors. He dwells on brutes having no gift of speech, which yet requires very little reason, he says ; and therefore he concludes not that they are less rational than man, “ sed plane esse rationis expertia.’* * Thus far no doubt can exist ; he only gives a very common opinion on the subject, though an opinion controverted by some, as I shall hereafter ask you to discuss : but it forms a head distinct from our present inquiry. But a little way further on he proceeds to illus- trate his position in a manner which has given rise to the notion in question. 66 They do many things even better than ourselves,” he says, “ but this does not prove them to be endowed with reason, for this would prove them to have more reason than we have, and that they should excel us in all other things also — but it rather proves them to be void of reason, and that nature acts in them ac- cording to the disposition of their members, as we see a clock, which is only composed of wheels and * De Methodo, 36. — “ Istud autem non tantum indicat bruta minore vi pollere quam homines, sed ilia plane esse rationis expertia. Videmus enim exigua admodum opus esse ad loquendum.” (Of Method, 36. — “ But that not only indicates that brutes have less power than men ; it also proves them to be void of reason. For we see that very little reason is required to enable men to speak.”) THEOKY. 55 weights, can measure time better than we can with all our skill.” He goes on to show that the in- terests of virtue are greatly injured by the belief, not that brutes have souls, but that they have souls like our own — u brutorum animam ejusdem esse cum nostra naturae,” — and that therefore we have nothing more to hope or fear in a future state than flies or ants ; whereas he had shown our souls to be by their nature independent of the body, and there- fore not mortal like and with it. All this you perceive is anything rather than the doctrine that brutes are mere machines. A. But where do you find the adversary’s re- presentation of it which you mentioned ? 13. Here, in this other and very curious volume, containing his Correspondence with many learned persons, and some less learned, as Christina, Queen of Sweden, and our Princess Elizabeth, the Elec- tress Palatine and stock of our present Xloyal family, to whom he writes, among other letters, one on her brother Charles the First’s execution — which, to console her, he praises as more glorious than an ordinary death — “ pulchrior, felicior, et dulcior.”* A. Does the Princess enter on the question of animals ? 13. ISTo ; she seems to have been ailing with fever, and having been light-headed, she applies to the philosopher to explain to her how in the night she felt an irresistible desire to make verses : this he courteously explains (after saying it reminded him of a similar anecdote related by Plato, of Socrates), that it is owing to the agitation of the animal spirits, which in weak brains produces * “ Finer, happier, sweeter.” — Epist. Pars I., Ep. xxvii. 56 INSTINCT. madness, but in strong ones only a genial warmth, leading to poesy, and thereupon he holds her Serene Highness’s case to be “ ingenii solidioris et sublimioris indicium.”* A . Upon my word, I shall begin to think a person who could thus theorize as well as flatter about animal spirits and Serene Highnesses, was capable of shutting his eyes to the most ordinary facts, and believing brutes to be machines. B. Ho not undervalue this great man : he is the true author of all the modern discoveries in mathe- matics. He made the greatest step that ever man made since the discovery of algebra, which is lost in the obscurity of remote ages : I mean his appli- cation of algebra to geometry, the source of all that is most valuable and sublime in the stricter sciences and in natural philosophy. But assuredly his physical and psychological speculations are much less happy ; although it was no mean fame to be the author of a treatise, the answer to which was the first work ever composed by man — Newton’s Prineipia. But I was coming to the controversy on Instinct. An ingenious clergyman of Cam- bridge, Henry More, objected to the doctrine of the great philosopher, as laid down in that treatise to which we have been referring, on Method ; and he began by describing the doctrine as denying sense and life to brutes. He speaks of Descartes’s genius, “ chalybis instar rigiduin et crudele, quod uno quasi ictu omnium ferine animantium genus vita ausit sensuque spoliare in marmora atque machinas vertendo.”t This he repeats in various * “ The proof of a more solid and more lofty under- standing/' f “ Rigid and heartless like steel, which, as by a single THEORY. 57 ways, and argues against, as the doctrine of Des- cartes. A. Nothing in what we have read out of Des- cartes’ own writings justifies this. Is there any other passage to which More can allude ? JB . lie refers expressly to the passage in the “ Tractatus de Methodo,” and discusses the argu- ment there given from the want of speech. But there remains a letter of Descartes to a certain great personage (ad Magnatem quendam), in which he repeats the doctrine of the treatise at somewhat greater length, but using the same comparison of a clock, and using it as a comparison. His whole contention is, that they, the brutes, have not reason like us, which he terms sometimes “ intellect,” or thought— “ intellectum vel cogitationem.” But that he means reason, and does not mean to assert that brutes are machines, seems plain from this, that in the same passage he allows them natural cunning, or craft, as well as strength — “ imo et puto nonnullos (animantes) esse posse quse naturalibus astutiis instructs sunt quibus homines etiam astu- tissimos decipiant.”* This is anything rather than describing them as mere machines.! stroke, can deprive almost all animals of life and sensation, turning them into marbles and machines.” — Epist. Pars I., Ep. lxvi. * “ Nay, I also think there may exist some brutes en- dowed with natural cunning to deceive the most cunning of men.” — Epist. Pars I., p. 107. f He afterwards, in the same letter, says, that although brutes do nothing to show they can think, yet it may by some be supposed that as they have limbs like our own, so thought (cogitatio) may be joined with those limbs, as we know it is with our own, although in them the thinking principle (cogitatio) may be less perfect than in us. “ Ad quod,” says he, “ niliil est quod respondeam nisi quod si ilia o8 INSTINCT. A . But what does Descartes reply to his corre- spondent’s letter, in which he represents that to be his doctrine ? Does he object to Mr. More’s statement ? B. Why, singularly enough, he does not in dis- tinct terms repudiate it, though this may be owing to his supposing that, as he had used the comparison of the clock, Mr. More is also speaking in the same terms, especially as Mr. More had professedly used figurative language, and spoken of Descartes’ cutting off all animals as with a sword. But he speaks certainly in this answer* more strongly than elsewhere. “ I have diligently inquired,” says he, <£ whether all the motions of animals came from two principles, or only from one ; and as I find it clear that they arise from that principle alone which is corporeal and mechanical, I can by no means allow them to have a thinking soul. Nor am I at all hindered in this conclusion by the cun- ning and sagacity of foxes and dogs, nor by those actions done by animals from lust, hunger, or fear ; for I profess to be able easily to explain all these things by the sole conformation of their limbs.” He adds, that though he sees no proof of the affirmative proposition (of their having a thinking principle), yet he also admits there is no proof of the negative ; and lie then comes back to his favourite topic of its “ being less likely that worms should have immortal souls, than that they should cogitant ut nos, animam etiam ut et nos immortalem habent, quod non est verisimile (“ To which I can only answer, that if they think as we do, they must also have, like us, an immortal soul, which is not probable ;”) and he proceeds to say, that oysters, sponges, and other imperfect animals, can hardly be supposed immortal. * Pars I. Ep. lxvii. THEORY. 59 move like machines and again refers to the want of speech. A. How any man who ever saw dogs in a field pointing, or greyhounds chasing a hare, or still more, dogs sleeping and manifestly dreaming with- out any external object to excite their senses or motions, or who had observed birds taught tunes, could ever suppose them mere corporeal or material mechanism, things made of dead matter and with- out life, I cannot comprehend. JB. The best of it is that he positively affirms they have life. The letter I have just been read- ing from, and in which his doctrine, if anywhere, is stated the most explicitly, concludes by warning Mr. More not to suppose he denies them life ; and it is remarkable that he uses the very words vita and sensus , which Mr. More had represented him as refusing to brutes — “Velim tainen notari me loqui de cogitatione, non de vita vel sensu. Vitam enim nullo animali denego.”* A . Then what does he mean by life and sense? JB. He goes on to tell you, u utpote quam in solo cordis calore consistere statuo mistaking the indication or effect of life for life itself. He adds, “ nee denego etiam sensum, quatenus ab organo corporis pendet.”t Now, can it be that Descartes really supposed he had taken a tenable distinction here between mind in man and in brutes ? Or that there could be any perceptible difference between a machine endowed with life and sensation, and * “ I would have it borne in mind, however, that I am speaking of thought, not of life or sensation, for life I deny to no animal.” f “ Nor do I deny them sensation, in so far as that de- pends upon the organs of the body.” 60 INSTINCT. capable of imitation, of learning, and of much cun- ning— and a body animated by a mind ? To speak of sensation as depending upon the corporeal organs is either unintelligible or it is a begging of the question, and the very same definition might be given of our own sensation — nay, is given of it by the materialists, who hold our mind to be the mere result of a physical organization. Yet with these Descartes differs more indeed than with all others. A. I cannot help thinking, on the whole, that it is very possible this great man may have only meant to deny the brutes a reason, or mind like ours, a power of ratiocination, and not to consider them as mere machines. But I am clear of one thing, that if he did mean the latter, a more un- tenable doctrine never was broached upon this, or indeed upon any other subject. S. We may therefore, I conceive, pass over this theory altogether. But another and a greater man has been so pressed with the difficulties of the sub- ject, that he has recourse to a very different sup- position, and instead of holding the Deity to have created brutes as machines without any mind at all, he considers their whole actions as the constant, direct, and immediate operation of the Deity him- self. Such is the doctrine of Sir Isaac Newton, which is saying enough to prevent any one from hastily rejecting it, or rashly forming his opinion against it. A. Does he not mean merely to derive the ac- tions of brutes from a perpetually superintending and sustaining power of the Deity, as we ascribe the motions of the heavenly bodies to the same constantly existing influence ? He probably only means that the brute mind, having been created, is THEORY. 61 as much under the Divine governance as the ma- terial powers, qualities, and motions are : in other words, that mind was created, and matter was created ; and that still the actions and passions of both are constantly under the guidance of the Creator. So that Sir Isaac Newton would no more deny the separate existence of the minds of brutes, than he would the separate existence of their bodies, or of the heavenly bodies. B. Here are his own words. The passage occurs in the famous 31st Query, or General Scholium to the Optics ;* and you see that, after recounting the structure of animal bodies as proofs of design, he adds, “ And the instinct of brutes and insects can be the effect of nothing else than the wisdom and skill of a powerful, ever-living agent, who, being in all places, is more able by his will to move the bodies within his boundless uniform sensorium, and thereby to form and re- form the parts of the universe, than we are by our will to move the parts of our bodies.” He pro- ceeds to guard the reader against a supposition of the Deity being the soul of the world, or of brutes, or of His being composed of members or parts, stating that He only 66 governs and guides all matter by his prevailing power and will.” So that you see he draws the distinction between the * There is nothing more admirable for extent and gene- ralisation of view than this 31st Query. The happy con- jecture respecting the nature of the diamond in the 2nd Book (Part II., Prop. 10), does not surpass the wonderful sentence in the query, where Sir Isaac Newton classes to- gether, as similar operations, respiration, oxydation, and combustion. These have since been discovered to be the same process. In Sir Isaac Newton's time, their diversity seemed as great as that between the diamond and charcoal. D 62 INSTINCT. mind or will of men, which influences the motions of their bodies, and the influence which moves brutes ; plainly enough referring the latter to the Deity himself, as the primum mobile , or actuating principle ; for he allows that the kind of ubiquity or universal action to which you refer applies to our bodies, and 1 presume to our minds also, which were created and are sustained by Him. Of that no doubt can exist, because elsewhere he has laid down as clear this ubiquity, called, as you know, essential ubiquity, to contra-distinguish it from potential or virtual . You find this plainly stated in the Principia — here is the celebrated General Scholium : “ Omnipresens est non per virtutem solam, sed etiam per substantiam ” — 66 In ipso continentur et moventur universa, sed sine mutua passione.”* Therefore it is quite manifest that, in here treating of Instinct, that is, of the operations of animals, he considers the Deity’s action as different from that general direction which he ascribes to Him over matter and mind by His essential ubiquity. In other cases He acts on matter and mind, and in the case of mind, He acts on matter mediately or through the agency of mind, which mind He moves. But here He acts, according to Sir Isaac Newton, directly on matter, and is the moving and acting principle of animals; and such has generally been the construction put upon his words as you have them here in the 31st Query. It has been so stated by so popular a poet as Pope, and also, though with less precision, by * “ He is omnipresent, not virtually alone, hut substan- tially'’— “ In him all things are contained and moved, but without mutually affecting each other.” — Principia, lib. iii., Sch. Gen. THEORY * 63 Addison. The former takes the distinction, in his Essay on Man, between brutes as only having volition, which in them acts for both willing and reasoning: while men have the double faculty. He expresses himself with his wonted felicity : — “ See then the acting and comparing powers, One in their nature, which are two in ours ; And Reason raise o’er Instinct as you can, In this ’t is God that acts, in that ’t is Man.” Essay , Ep . iii. Addison, in his 120th Spectator, after giving many instances in which he jumbles together Instinctive and Intelligent operations, concludes with the re- mark, that “ they can no more be explained than gravitation can ; and come not from any law of mechanism, but are an immediate impression from the first mover, and the Divine energy acting in the creature.” A. This dogma of Newton is certainly great authority — the greatest human authority. For it is the opinion — and, regard being had to the awful nature of the subject as well as the contemplative and religious nature of the man, it is probably the well-considered opinion — of the greatest inquirer into nature that ever existed, and whose conjectures have been almost as happy, and are certainly quite as marvellous, as his complete discoveries. JB . Observe, too, that it is the opinion of his maturer years. The Scholium to the Principia was added in the later editions — when written does not clearly appear, but the second edition was pub- lished in 1713, and the third as late as 1726. The 31st Query to the Optics was added at a time which can be fixed better. The first edition of the Optics, published in 1704, had not the queries. The second, d 2 64 INSTINCT. published in 1717. had them ; and the third edition was corrected by the author’s own hand a short time before his death ; from which corrected copy the one I am now citing was printed in the year 1730, after his decease. But as he first published this passage in 1717, and was born in 1642, he was then in his 75th year, and had long before made all his discoveries. A. I quite agree that as far as mere authority goes, no opinion ever had so great a weight — nevertheless we have the same illustrious man’s authority, and example too, to teach us that it is by our own reason alone that we ought to be guided in philosophizing, and we must bring to the test of that canon even his best considered opinions. JB. This I of course freely admit. Let us, then, examine a little this doctrine of immediate inter- position— which regards the work of the bee, for instance, as the direct and immediate operation of Divine wisdom and power. A. I need hardly warn you against being seduced by another bias, as powerful as Sir Isaac Newton’s authority — the disposition we must have, if possible, to believe in a doctrine which, by exhibiting the finger of God as perpetually moving and working before our eyes, seems to bring us constantly into His presence, as if we saw a perpetual miracle wrought, and almost enables us to commune with the Deity, as the Patriarchs did of old. The gra- tification to us, as men, of reaching this position, should not make us, as philosophers, open our ears the more readily to any unsound or inconsistent reasonings, assume facts on slight grounds, or, passing over flaws in the argument, receive easily erroneous conclusions from what we see. THEORY. 65 j B. Again I entirely agree with you. Far from making greater haste to reach a position so delight- ful, I should take the greater care of my steps, that I might not slip and fall by the way : for that the road is slippery, the light glimmering, and the route over high ground, leading through preci- pitous passes, must, I think, be admitted freely. But let us step on cautiously as we have hitherto done. A. We left off with the deduction that brutes act from a principle, a thinking principle, a mental principle, something different from their bodies and from surrounding objects, but that they act towards an end of which they are ignorant, and accomplish that end without design, though very possibly they may also in so acting accomplish some intermediate end of which they are aware, and which they intend to attain. B . We may add another thing to the proposi- tion. The end which they accomplish blindly and instinctively is far the more important of the two, admitting that there is another and intermediate one. For, suppose your theory to be correct, that the solitary wasp gratifies some sense in carrying caterpillars and the bee, in making hexagons and rhomboids, it is plain that this is a very trifling matter; it neither feeds, nor clothes, nor lodges her, nor her brood ; whereas, the purposes to which those works are subservient are the continuation of the species of the insects respectively — the greatest and mdst favourite end in nature. A . True ; and you may add another thing, which I allow, even if my theory be ever so certainly cor- rect— that the only possible use of the intermediate end is the accomplishment of the other end — for if 66 INSTINCT. you grant me that the wasp carries caterpillars, and the bee makes geometrical figures, to please themselves, or gratify some sense, it is of no im- portance that either should receive that gratifica- tion : its only use is the unknown and unintended consequence of providing for the unborn issue. JB. W e are now then arrived at a very important height, from whence we may survey the subject correctly and advantageously. A. Let us be quite sure that we have left no obstructions, or rather that we have passed over nothing material — that we have left no objections in our rear, which may rise up and mock any inference we now draw. For instance, are all our facts clear? As to the bee’s architecture, some have questioned the theory. I have heard it said that what seems so perfect a structure, and so judi- cious a dividing out of the space, so as to save room and work and material, is only the necessary con- sequence of placing a number of cylindrical or globular bodies together ; that if you blow many soap-bubbles in a basin they will, by their weight and pressure, settle into hexagons. JB. There never was anything more absurd than what some, calling themselves philosophers, have said without a moment’s reflection on this subject. No less a name than Buffon may be cited for such nonsense. There are two decisive answers : — First , the soap-bubbles will not make hexagons, although your eye may see straight lines formed by their in- tersections, but not one hexagon the least like the bee’s will you find in all the foam ; and next , there is not a single globe, or cylinder, or any figure like it ever made by any bee. Huber has seen them, or rather had them carefully observed, when at work ; THEORY. 67 they first make a groove, and then form its walls into planes, and all the rest is a making of planes and angles one after the other without any circular figures at all. So some one finding the eye of the bee to be a net- work, when greatly magnified, and each mesh a hexagon, thought he had found out why the bee works in that figure. To which the answer was obvious, that men and other animals having circular pupils should, by parity of reason, work in circles. But another answer was just as decisive ; that the light entering by a hexagon almost infinitely small no more helps the bee to that figure than if it entered by a circle or a square. Its paws and feelers are to work. Nay, suppose even it had a small pattern hexagon ready made, would its working a large one on that model be at all less wonderful? Not to mention that the hexagon is not the greatest wonder ; the rhom- boidal bottom of the cell, and the angles which its three plates form with each other, and with the walls, are the wonder, and no one pretends to account for that. I pass over the form of the limbs ; nothing can possibly be deduced from them in the smallest degree fitted to aid the bee in her marvellous work. A. Have not some sceptical inquirers thrown other doubts upon the mathematical part of this great wonder? I think I have heard something of the kind, as if Maclaurin, or whoever was the dis- coverer, had rather been fanciful, or over-refining, and that the bee had turned out to be not so good a geometrician as they had supposed. B. Here is a sample of those doubts — though they are not indeed, like Newton’s sound conjec- tures, stated with the modestv of doubts — but 68 INSTINCT. somewhat dogmatically. It was the celebrated Maraldi who first measured the angles, and found them to be 109° 28' and 70° 32' respectively. Reaumur afterwards set a young mathematician, pupil of Bernoulli, called Koenig, to find what were the angles that made the greatest saving of wax, and the result was by his analysis 109° 26' and 70° 34', being within two minutes of his own measurement, which measurement he had not com- municated to Koenig. But it turns out that the bee was right and the analyst wrong : for by solv- ing the problem in another way I find that he erred by two minutes ; and other mathematicians, with whom I have communicated, distinctly find the same thing, and we have also found how the error crept in.* A . These angles must have been very nicely measured ; for the difference of two minutes, or the 2000th part of the lesser angle, is very small indeed. How were the angles first ascertained ? B. Maraldi was a most accurate observer, and he gives the angles, as I have stated, 109° 28' and 70° 32' ; and he gives them to differ with the result of Koenig’s calculus, which was made after Maraldi had measured — so he could not have fancied the amount. But I have reduced it from measuring an angle to the easier operation of measuring a small line. If those are the angles, then it follows that the breadth of the rhomboid is exactly equal r~ * See this fully explained in the experiments and demon- strations relating to the comb in this volume. There is some contradiction in Maraldi’s statement, * Mem. Acad, des Sciences/ 1712, pp. 310-312; but the above measure has always been considered to be that which he intended ta state as his result. THEORY. 69 to the side of the hexagon, and you find it appears to be so. Also, if those are the angles, the rhom- boidal plates are inclined to one another at the angle of 120°, that of the hexagon ; and you find they do not differ when you place them together, one within the other. However, I admit that this is not a very close admeasurement of such small differences ; and I presume Maraldi must have employed a micrometer. I have used one to com- pare the breadth of the plates and sides, and I cer- tainly can find no inequality. At all events, the bee seems entitled to the benefit of Maraldi’s pre- vious measurement, which had been thought to put her in the wrong, now that the analyst and not she has been found in error. This, however, is nothing to what follows. A Berlin academician, thinking, I suppose, to do a kindness by Fre- deric II., objected to the bee, that though, if the dimensions of the cell be given, the saving is as I have stated, yet there is such a great waste of wax arising from those dimensions as proves the saving of wax to be no object. He sets himself the pro- blem of what he calls a minimum minimorum ; namely, to find the proportion between the length and breadth of the cell which saves most wax ; and he finds it something quite wide of the actual pro- portions. Now, I went over this analysis, and again found the bee right, and the philosopher at fault ; for he had wholly left out the hexagonal covering of the cell’s mouth, which, whether for brood or honey, there always is; and I found the actual or bee’s proportions to save more than the academician’s, when this was taken into the calcu- lation. I moreover found the sides to be so much thinner than the bottom, that a shallow and wide 70 INSTINCT. cell would have cost more, even independent of the covering at the mouth. Again, he admits the form chosen to suit the bee’s shape, which the form he calls a true minimum never could ; but I show that it saves wax as well. Lastly, I have solved another problem of a like kind, namely, to find the angles that save most of the fine or difficult work, which is the angular or corner-working evidently, and that also is the thickest part of the work ne- cessarily. I find the solution gives the very same angles which the bee uses, and which also save wax in the other view. So that she has hit upon the very form which in every respect is the most advan- tageous, and turns out to be on all grounds right — as indeed we might well suppose when we recollect who is her Teacher.* A. All this is most satisfactory, and it was worth stopping to state it. However, as we have made a pause before our next advance, it may be just as well to stop for a moment longer in order to con- sider what the bee’s operation really is. How we should go to work had we to build cells is plain enough. Suppose we had discovered, which we should do by mathematical investigation, the pro- per form, the due proportion of the width to the length, and the proper angles of the bottom or roof — then we should have drawings and plans ; and by these we should either cut our planks, if the * Lord Brougham has given in the original work (Dis- sertations on Paley’s Natural Theology , vol. i.) all the mathe- matical demonstrations by which the positions in the text are shown to be undeniably true. He has also given a variety of curious observations and experiments on the architecture of bees, which appear to have escaped former philosophers. This part of the work, as too abstruse, is unavoidably omitted in the present publication. — Ed. THEORY. 71 structure were of wood ; or if it were of stone, which more resembles the bee’s materials, and is, be it observed, much more difficult and complicated to work with, we should, by those plans and by models or frames, run our courses. It would be a nice and difficult work to make this masonry, and would require the builder, both in hewing the stones and in putting them up, to follow the details of the plan in its parts, and without any regard to the general figure or result. He would be wholly unable to succeed if he looked to that ; all his building would be awry and out of the required figure ; his only chance is to make his plan exact, and his model- frames suit it ; and then he has instruments and tools, plumb-lines, squares and plumbs together, in order to raise his perpendiculars. By these he proceeds, for he cannot trust his eye or his hand a moment beyond the mere adjusting his work to his instrument and his plan. Now the bee confessedly has neither plan, except what is in her head ; nor any model at all whereby to guide her hand ; nor any instrument to adjust her work to the plan in her head ; nor any tool to work with except her paw and her feeler, which is as her eye in doing the work. Then how does she work ? B. Certainly, this is a most important consider- ation. We cannot trust our eye or our hand an instant. We have no exact perception of the line, and no steadiness in pursuing it. We have re- course to plans and instruments because we cannot form our lines by volition, that is, by having a form in our mind and by making our hands follow that form. We therefore must first lay it down sensibly, and then guide our hands by material means. Thus we have no power of forming a dome, an 72 INSTINCT, arch, or a circle, or a perpendicular, or a level, or even a straight line at all, or any one line or form which we conceive in our mind. Far from being able to follow these lines in great works, as roofs and walls and excavations, we cannot even represent such forms on a sheet of paper by our handy work. If we could do this we should work like the insect, who acts immediately, and not through the instrumentality of means. Unable to execute any purpose of our minds, as she does, we have recourse to instruments. We endeavour, as far as we can, to reduce every thing to a physical or material process — to exclude mental operation or agency altogether — to make the whole a material, or as we call it, accurately enough, a mechanical operation. Reason no doubt has taught us to do so ; but it has taught us a general rule ; and there is little or no reason, little or no operation of the mind, in its application to the particular cases. On the contrary, the use of the rule or method is that it precludes the operation of the mind as much as possible, and makes the whole physical, or nearly so. To take an instance — we reduce, by engraving or printing, the whole operation of drawing a pic- ture, or writing a page, to turning a lever, which does the work for us. So in building, though there is less mechanical facility, we guide our hand by the instruments employed and the lines drawn, making the operation as mechanical, as little mental, as possible. The bee’s operation is all mind together. She has no plans, no instruments, no tools. It is as if by waving our hands among plastic materials we formed walls, and domes, and columns, and never deviated a hair’s breadth from the perfectly accurate plan. I am very decidedly THEORY. 73 of opinion that this essential difference between the works of Reason and Instinct is of the greatest importance to our inquiry : for nothing can more show the peculiarity of the instinctive operation ; or more prove that the mind of the agent is as it were the machine, and the instrument, to perform the work, and to perform it with an unerring cer- tainty and with absolute perfection. A . Does this, which appears to me, as it does to you, a most important consideration, bring us at all back towards the ground of Descartes, whicn we had passed over as forming a position wholly untenable : I mean, that the insect is a mere ma- chine, fashioned by a perfectly skilful mechanic, and wound up to perform the functions which he designed ? j B. Certainly not. The proposition which we have just been deducing from the facts is rather of a kind the very reverse : it affirms that the insect’s mind performs the whole operation ; it makes the insect’s mind the machine, if I may so speak. But let us see to what it also leads or seems to lead us. We perceive there is mind at work, action exerted, effect produced ; but we see that the mind is quite unconscious of the effect, and that the action works to a purpose which the mind never contemplated. There is a thing done, an important and rational thing done, but done by an agent who neither intends nor knows anything about it. Here there is design, but there is no designer — an action and an object no doubt ; but that action performing, besides what the agent intended, knew, and did, something else (and that something the only im- portant thing), which the agent neither knew nor intended, and cannot possibly be said to have done 74 INSTINCT. at all. This by no means leads us back to Des- cartes’ position, but does it not lead us to Sir Isaac Newton’s ? The design is manifest ; the action is perfectly and surely adapted to it ; the purpose is with singular regularity effected ; must there not be a designer, and who can that be but the Deity ? There is none other that can be sug- gested even. Must it not be He ? A. Doubtless in one sense it must, as he is the designer of all we see. But how is he more the designer here than he is of the motions of the heavenly bodies, or the growth and germination of plants ? -5. As thus. In those cases there is nothing but matter affected, or acting ; whatever laws were originally imposed on matter are followed ; what- ever qualities first communicated to it are dis- played : all is material. There was design in the original formation of it, in the prescribing those laws, and impressing those qualities. That design these bodies fulfil ; they conform to the primaeval and original intention of their being. But there is no renewed design, no repeated intention, no special and particular disposition in each case of action. The Deity made a stone, and made the earth, so that the stone falls to the ground by virtue of the general rule of their formation. He is not to be referred to ; he needs not interfere each time the support is withdrawn from the stone, in order to direct the path it shall take. If on that support being withdrawn some interposition were required to decide how it should go — for instance, whether it should stand still or not — although it be ad- mitted, that if it move it can but move in the straight line downwards, the case would more THEORY. 75 resemble Instinct, though even here it would be different ; for it is as if each hair’s breadth of the stone’s motion required a new action to carry it on in its course. A. The Deity created matter so as to obey in each case certain general laws : so he created mind in like manner to obey certain laws in each case. Wherein do the two facts differ, the fact of material and the fact of mental action ? JB. As thus. The moving power is wanting in the one case. The law is that matter shall act in a certain way, and mind in a certain way ; but is it the mind of the insect that acts when the whole mental process is wanting, namely, the knowledge, thought, and will ? Its mind acts, subject not only to a general law, but to a particular impulse each time. Who gives the impulse ? Besides, your doc- trine of the Deity creating the insect’s mind such as to act so in given circumstances, applies quite as much to our Reason as to its Instinct. Let me, however, put a case : suppose we saw a man born blind, to our own knowledge, without any teaching, and without ever having tried it before, move his fingers in the design of giving them exercise, as to keep them warm, &c., but holding a pencil in them, and by the same act producing, unknown to himself, a beautiful and finished portrait, of perfect resem- blance to the original : or suppose we saw a man who had been born and lived in a foreign country, and was utterly ignorant of our language, of which he had never heard a word, write a letter in correct English, or a beautiful copy of verses, while only meaning to try whether a pen was well cut, or the ink rightly made — these acts are quite analogous to the Instinct of bees. Nay, we may take a nearer A 76 INSTINCT. case, and suppose a man who never had learnt ma- thematics, and did not know a line from an angle, to solve on a slate a problem of great difficulty with perfect and unerring accuracy, and this while he was only trying the pen and the slate ; and suppose he then applied this solution to the com- binations of a perfect time-keeper, while he thought he was only cutting off the superfluous pieces of two lumps of brass and steel of which he intended to make weights, he being wholly ignorant of what a time-keeper meant. There is nothing more strange in this than the bee’s architecture. It is indeed exactly, and in all its parts, a parallel in- stance. In all such cases (the extra thing done, and not known or intended, being far more difficult and more important than the thing intended and known to be done), we should at once pronounce that there was a miracle, because of the thing done being without the possibility of the apparent agent doing it unassisted, according to the ordinary laws of nature. In other words, want of power in the immediate agent compels us to believe in the inter- position of another agent having the power. There is dignus vindice nodus , and we call in the vindex. This is the foundation of all belief that there must be supernatural agency where the laws of nature are suspended. But in the cases put there is not only want of power, but of design. If want of power in the apparent agent drives us to suppose or infer the action of another unseen agent, want of inten- tion or design should drive us to infer the intend- ing of another designer, and want of both power and intention should make us infer the thinking of a planner who intends, and the action of an agent able to perform the work ; in other v ords, to infer THEORY. 77 the interference of one who has both the will and the power, each of which is wanting in the imme- diate or apparent agent. A . In the case you put of a miracle, there is a single instance, and because it is solitary, we say the laws of nature are suspended, and we call in supernatural aid. In the case of Instinct, it is the constant course ; it would be a suspension of the law, and a miracle, were it ever otherwise. It is as much part of the law of nature that the animal should do the thing in question without intending it, or knowing how he does it, nay, that he does it at all, as that man should do it knowingly and in- tentionally, or that the animal should knowingly and intentionally do those other things in which he acts rationally, and not instinctively. There- fore this case does not resemble a miracle. 13. The case of a miracle I did not put in this way or with this view at all. I do not say that the instinctive act of the animal, or of man when he acts merely from Instinct, as he does, though most rarely, are to be compared with miracles as being suspensions of natural law ; but only that the same reason which makes us, when arguing from such suspension of natural laws, conclude that some power has interposed different from the powers acting under those laws, requires us, when arguing from the acts done by the animal without either design or power, to conclude that some agent has interposed of power sufficient, and some intending and designing being of will fitted, to do the acts in question. Suppose, to put again my first case with a variation, we saw a blind man draw a like- ness as often as he stretched his fingers with a pencil in them, and every foreigner of a certain 78 INSTINCT. class write good English verses as often as he tried a pen, and every man of a particular description make excellent time-keepers as often as he cut away the parings of the metal balls he was forming into weights — we should in every such instance of these general laws (as they could now be) have a right to draw an inference of one and the same kind. What would that be ? Manifestly that here the same thing was done without knowledge or intention, which in the other class of cases (those where reason and experience operated) was done by means of knowledge, and with intention. For the gist of the question and the whole diffi- culty is this — that we have two classes of cases — the same act done in the one class knowingly and intentionally, and in the other, without knowledge or intention —and as in the vast majority of all acts taken together of all kinds of agents, we can see no such thing — ind^xl, cannot form the idea of such a thing — as an act without power a*id will to do it, or a thing resulting to all appearance from intention, because in itself such a thing as we should do if we intended a given thing, and yet without any Being to intend, so we are compelled to infer the power, that is, the knowledge of the intender. A . Indeed, it must be observed, that when we speak of a miracle we mean, and commonly do mean, two things, not only the fact seen of the laws of nature being suspended, but the inference drawn of some power interposing capable of suspending them, and therefore above them, and having sway over them ; and this inference arises from the ne- cessity under which we feel of accounting for the phenomenon observed by supposing an adequate THEORY, 79 cause ; in short, from our being unable to conceive anything done without a cause. The ordinary powers with which we are acquainted fail to ac- count for this event, and we therefore infer another power to be in operation. B. Certainly it is so ; but then this is precisely the case with Instinct, as compared with the other phenomena, namely, those things done with both knowledge and design on the part of the agent, that is, things in doing which the agent is known to us, and intends, and knows what he does. Sup- pose, according to the case so well put by Paley, in the beginning of his book, — suppose you find on a common a watch going and producing manifestly an effect according to its construction ; this would show a design in its maker ; but only a former, or bygone, a spent and executed design. Nothing would be seen designing or intending, as it were, before your eyes. Suppose, then, you saw the watch, or other machine, making a second and third machine, but not by mechanical contrivance — for that, too, like the case put by Paley, would still only be evidence of a former, or bygone, or executed design, — you must suppose a new watch to be made before your eyes without any material agency, or, which is the same thing, made by a machine wholly incapable of performing the opera- tion itself. Then you would necessarily infer from these the existence of some being, some thinking and designing and skilful being, capable of doing what you saw, that is, of making the machine ; and you would suppose this just as much if you saw an incapable body performing the operation, as if you saw the operation performed without any visible or sensible material agent at all. Now, 80 INSTINCT. this is precisely the case of the bee : it is the incapable body or being. A. May it not all be said to be only another inference of original and general design, as we de- duce that conclusion from the structure of the limbs of animals, and the functions suited to that struc- ture which those limbs perform ? J3. Even if it were so, there is the broad dis- tinction between mere mental and mere physical agency ; and the difference between the inferences to which those agencies respectively lead. But I apprehend the difference is greater still than this. The two cases are not at all the same or alike, hardly even analogous. We never know of matter, or any combination of material parts, acting or affected but in one way. We have not matter with, and matter without, gravity, cohesion, impenetra- bility. But if the phenomana of instinct are to be regarded as only one class of mental phenomena, we have here two kinds of mind, endowed with wholly different qualities, and acting in wholly different ways ; one kind such that the being pos- sessed of it neither knows nor intends what he is doing, and yet all the while does exactly as if he both knew and intended. Nay, in one case, the agent possessing this mind is manifestly able to act ; in the other, he is as clearly incompetent in any way that we can conceive. If no being is here concerned except the apparent, and unconscious, and impotent agent, it is like matter gravitating to a centre which does not exist : and then, to make the thing still more incomprehensible, and the dif- ference between matter as subject to general laws and this case the more extreme, both these kinds of mind are found in the same individual ; for lie THEORY. 81 sometimes uses, as it were, the one, sometimes the other ; he sometimes acts knowingly and inten- tionally ; sometimes blindly, as an instrument to do he knows not what, nor cares — as if we had a piece of matter, a lump of metal, for instance, which at one time was heavy, and at another fiew about in the air. A. There is certainly a material difference ; and I should not much wonder if we were, sooner or later, driven by the extraordinary nature of the case to some new conclusion. These things have really not been sifted as they deserved. Men have rested satisfied with general and vague statements, and I suppose their attention has been too much engaged by the great curiosity of the facts connected with the subject to let them closely reason upon the theory. However, I must again recur to my sup- position, and refuse to quit this position where we now stand until we have examined it more accu- rately. There are two kinds of mind, I will say. Then the Deity created two kinds originally. As he created two kinds of substance or existence, mind and matter, and as he endowed these with different qualities, so did he endow the two kinds of mind with different qualities. As he made matter solid and heavy, and made mind imperceptible to the senses, but endowed it with consciousness, so he gave the two kinds of mind different qualities — both of course must have consciousness, which I take to be the essence of all mind, at least we can- not conceive mind to exist without it — but one lie made such that it could act rationally, knowing and intending all it did — the other such that it acted without knowing or intending. This hypothesis, you perceive, gets rid of the necessity of supposing 82 INSTINCT. a constant interposition of the Deity, unless in the sense in which He is said to interfere for the pur- pose of maintaining and executing the general laws which he originally framed for the whole universe. JB. I perceive no such thing. I do not think your supposition at all meets the fact, or removes the difficulty, or dispenses with the other inference. In one sense I may grant your assumption, namely, if you only meant that the Deity originally willed the animal should act in a certain way for a pur- pose which He fore-ordained, and which He yet concealed from the animal itself, though fore-known to Him, the Creator. But in the same way all rational acts and intentions may be said to have been fore-known and fore-ordained by the Creator, which indeed seems, at least in the case of an in- telligent agent, only to mean that with the Deity there is no such thing as present and future, but all things are seen as present. But then this re- solves itself into saying that the Deity originally designed and ordered the animal’s acts ; and that this is the same thing as if He actually super- intended and did each act of the animal at the moment of action — which is the same thing with saying that the Deity constantly acts and not the animal, and that is the theory in question. But, in any other sense, to what does your objection, or the hypothesis put by you in order to escape the con- clusion, amount ? Only to this, that the Deity created the instinctive mind such that it acts with- out knowledge or intention, exactly as the rational mind acts with both the one and the other. Now the theory of course never meant to deny that the instinctive mind was created by the Deity, and endowed with certain qualities. Sir Isaac Newtorc THEORY. 83 expressly excludes the supposition of the Deity being the anima mundi , or the soul of any part of nature, and clearly never intended to represent Him, as Himself the soul of animals, but only as constantly guiding that soul. But the theory holds that the mind being endowed with certain qualities originally and at its creation, those qualities are summed up in this one, namely, to act, and to act quasi mind, but without knowledge or design, and yet to produce all the effects of both, and, moreover, that this constitutes the whole of the qualities of instinctive mind. This mind therefore was created such that it must always be the blind instrument in the Creator’s hands ; its knowledge and design, by the hypothesis, reside as it were out of itself and in some other intelligent being, that is, in the Deity, who is to supply at each instant, the knowledge and design wanting in the animal mind, or to know and intend for it — and whether the Deity performs this operation, exer- cises knowledge and intention, beforehand and once for all, or constantly and continually at all times, seems an immaterial distinction referable to the former head of the alternative. The question always recurs — Was a mind created of such a species that it could act quasi mind without know- ing and intending ? Is not that contrary to the nature and essence of mind? Nay, is it not a con- tradiction in terms ? And is not your whole hypothesis of two kinds of mind grounded on a false position, which supposes a substratum to be endowed with various qualities, and then, in order to make two kinds of that substratum, confounds the qualities with the essence ? For what is mind but that which thinks, knows, wills ? If there be 84 INSTINCT. no knowledge, will, intention, at all, mind is not concerned in the operation, and we come to the Cartesian hypothesis, that the animal is a machine. Therefore knowledge and design there must be ; and it must either exist in the animal mind or in some other mind which uses or employs the animal as an instrument. Can this higher mind do so beforehand, or otherwise than by constant opera- tion, that is, constant exertion of itself? A . Then are we not getting either to the Deity being the soul of the animal, or to the mind of the animal having none of the qualities constituting mind ? B. We may suppose the mind to be the mere power of giving voluntary motion to the limbs, and to consist of no other quality, unless it thinks and intends. Then the Deity may have suffered it to have these powers, and to use them in some things, and there His own intelligence does not interfere ; but not to use such powers in other things, and there His intelligence does interfere. A. There is knowledge and intention in the ani- mal. The bee, for instance, knows it is carrying wax to a given place, and placing it in a given direction. So far as the thing is done, the agent knows, and wills, and intends what it is doing, and this in every possible case of instinctive action. B. But the whole question arises, not upon what the bee knows and intends, e. g., putting par- ticles of wax m a place, but upon what she cannot possibly know anything about — the giving her work a peculiar form, most difficult to discover at first, most advantageous for a certain end, and still more difficult to follow and work by even when discovered. The question always is, who designs THEOilY. 85 and knows these things unknown to the bee? And we cannot conceive the Deity acting thus originally through a future and non -existing animal ; al- though we can easily enough imagine Him acting through an existing animal at the time. This is supposable on the theory of essential ubiquity, or indeed upon any theory of ubiquity, even virtual. It merely requires ubiquity — whether of essence, or of power — some ubiquity — which no one denies who believes in a Deity at all. A. A child shall place together different lines and angles, or other parts of figures, so as to form certain diagrams. The figures he thus unwittingly makes have certain properties quite unknown to him. All he intends or knows is to put the parts together ; the rest is consequential, arising from the necessary relations of number and figure : so in cases of physical or contingent truth : he may do, and mean to do, and know that he is doing, what will form a certain combination ; but the laws of nature acting on that combination, produce, un- known to him, effects which he never intended, and knew nothing of ; as if he mixed sulphuric acid and oil of turpentine, and there was an explosion ; or an acid and an alkali, and there was a neutral salt and a crystallization. JB. This, when examined, we shall find either to be a case wholly different from the one in question, or to be only idem per idem , as lawyers say when they have a case put which is like enough to the one in hand, but just as difficult to resolve ; so, in either way, the argument will remain unaffected. If the child plays with the things at random, and they happen to fall into a certain shape once, or it may be twice, that is certainly not the case of the E 86 INSTINCT. bee, which regularly, and without ever failing, always makes the figure required ; and, upon being obstructed in her operations, varies her means till she can again attain the particular form. If, on the other hand, the child places the things always accurately in the same way, then the case not only resembles the one in question, but becomes identical with it ; all the arguments and all the difficulties apply ; it is exactly idem per idem . So again, if the child does a certain thing with knowledge and design to do that and no more, leaving the rest to be done by some law of matter unknown to it — this is not the case of Instinct ; for the bee does all that is done by the operation of mental agency ; the wall, the hexagon, the rhomboid, are all made by the bee’s living power ; she does not place wax and leave it to fall into hexagonal forms, as we mix salts and leave them to crystallize into cubes or hexagonal prisms ; she forms the figures herself, and when she has done her work nothing remains to be done further by any law of nature. But if the child makes a combination constantly and cor- rectly, say some useful substance not to be made by accident or random working, then the case be- comes the same, and the argument is not affected by it in any way. A. You often complain of my obstinacy ; which I call sometimes caution, and sometimes slowness, according as I may be in a self-complacent or a modest humour. B. Then, as I do not remember ever to have seen you in the former state of mind, I am sure you must always call it slowness, which no one else ever called it ; but I will call it caution, and ask what more it leads to ? THEORY. 87 A . To this— that I would again hanker after my doctrine of general laws, primarily impressed on matter and mind both. You argue, and argue justly, that the operations of matter and of mind are to be kept apart ; you allow that the material operation is explicable by and referable to general laws ; you allow, too, that whatever is wrought by the operation of mind, acting as such, is explicable by and referable to general laws of mind, originally imposed, e. g ., to desire what is agreeable to it by its general constitution ; to reject what is by the same constitution disagreeable. But you say that we see, in the case of instinctive actions, operations for which desires and aversions will not account, and operations carried on as if by the most refined and correct reason, and yet without any material or physical interposition ; that is, without any in- strumentality whatever, as if a cast were made without a mould, or a print without a plate. From hence you say it is difficult to understand how there should not be here an intelligent being, as well as mere desires connected with the senses — a cause connected with the understanding. Now, hankering as before, I still ask — though perhaps, after our long argumentation, with somewhat di- minished confidence — may not this be accounted for by supposing a general law adapting and ad- justing all the proportions beforehand ? May not the Deity have originally appointed the taste or desire of carrying caterpillars in the solitary wasp, for instance, exactly to the very number required to feed the worm after born, when, by the laws of matter, the egg shall have been hatched and the grub produced? So may not the bee form her hexagons and her rhomboids, in consequence of a E 2 88 NSTINCT. gratification felt by a fore-ordained law of her nature, in following those lines and angles, and no other ? JB. That this is barely conceivable I may per- haps admit. But it is wholly unlike any other operation of the senses and desires of which we have any knowledge. It means this, that each desire is so nicely adjusted as to produce in the animal the effects of reason and intention in man, or of reason and intention in the same animal when acting with design and knowledge, and not instinctively. The bird is to have a pleasure in bringing sticks or moss to a certain place, just at a given time, and putting them in one position — the solitary wasp, in bringing, and only in bringing, for it never tastes, a certain number of caterpillars, and to have no gratification in bringing one more, but the strongest desire, because a sensible pleasure, in bringing the eleventh as much as the first — also no kind of gratification in carrying the eleventh to any other place than the same where all the other ten were put — also a like pleasure in forming the hole for them, without the least regard to the use she is to make of it, nay, ignorant beforehand of its being to have any use ; and yet all the pleasure of carry- ing caterpillars is to consist in carrying them to that particular hole, and there is no gratification to be derived from carrying them to a place one hair’s breadth on the right or the left. Still more — it means that the bee is to have such a gratifica- tion as proves irresistible, and occupies her whole life, in tracing certain lines and angles ; and yet this strong desire is so far under control, even of reason, that on obstacles being interposed, other lines and angles are to be made, reason suspending THEORY. 89 the desire for the moment. So that the law ori- ginally imposed, and the quality impressed on the mind, was not one and inflexible, to do a certain act in all circumstances, viz., to follow the impulse of the desires implanted, and which form the ani- mal's nature ; but it was a law or order coupled with a condition, and, as it were, giving a discre- tionary power provisionally, or a power to be used in certain circumstances ; it was as thus — a law or order to do a certain thing, to obey the impulse of the desire, unless certain events shall happen ; and then and in that case to cease following the im- pulse of the desire, and to follow another guide, or rather to use a faculty, namely, reason, and act according as it should direct, allow, or recommend in the circumstances. Now, in the mere union of desires with reason, while the desires act blindly by impulse and the reason with discrimination, there is nothing at all inconsistent or incompre- hensible; it is the ordinary case of all mental operations. But the peculiarity of the case now supposed is that the desires act exactly like reason, producing the very same effects unknown to the agent which reason does with his knowledge. Are we not then calling different things by the same name, when we say that it is the influence of de- sires and appetites which makes the bee form her cell and the spider her web ? Might not the same kind of argument be applied to the operations admitted on all hands to be those of reason, for example, the investigations of Newton or La- grange ? Might it not be said that they were in- fluenced by an irresistible propensity, from deriving some gratification in drawing one line and using one divisor rather than another ? But we know 90 INSTINCT. this not to be the fact. Why and how ? Only from their statements and our own consciousness. But for this, the same argument might be used, and no one could refute it. So in the case of the animal we argue thus, because we cannot ask her and learn how she works. The impulse (it must all along be borne in mind) of which the argument speaks is a physical one, i. e ., the effect of some external object, or, which is the same thing, some operation of the animal’s body, on her senses ; it is a gratification of this specific kind which the explanation assumes — if not, it explains nothing. Then how little resemblance does any such grati- fication which we can form any idea of (leading the bee to her lines or angles, and the solitary wasp to her carriages and deposits) bear to what we know and feel to be the ordinary nature of physical gratification, and the desires connected with it ? A . This consideration lias much weight — I mean the way you put the question as to the mathema- ticians. It seems to show that we have just the same right, in the case of the animal’s instinct, to conclude in favour of design and reason, and an intelligent agent, and to conclude against its being animal impulse or the direct operation of the phy- sical senses, as we should have, did we see the mathematicians at work, observe their process, and mark the result congruous with that process, be- fore we spoke to them on the subject of how their working was conducted. Indeed it is remarkable that we are in point of fact just as much without the evidence which the thus inquiring of them would afford, as we are in the case of the animal ; for who ever asked the question of either Newton THEORY. 91 or Lagrange, and yet who doubts that both worked their problems from knowledge with intelligence ? The reason why we do not ask them is, that we have no kind of doubt in our minds; the view of the operation is enough for us. This is because we say to ourselves, “ If I did so and so, I know it would be from knowing and meaning to do so and so, and not from any physical gratification.” This inference we transfer to others, by saying, 66 There- fore I believe they act in like manner.” JB. Certainly ; and this, observe well, is the foundation of all our reasoning as to design. The only argument we ever have or can have in favour of any intelligent cause, from seeing the adaptation of means to ends, on surveying the works of na- ture, is, that, if we had done so and so, we should have had the design. All we see is the fact of an adaptation ; the inference of a cause, or of a de- signing being, rests on the kind of reasoning you have just stated. So that in reality we have reached this important position, that our argument for the existence of a designing cause at all in the uni- verse rests on no better, indeed no other founda- tion than our argument that instinctive action proves an interposition of the Deity at each mo- ment. A. I must further observe, however, that beside the great weight of this consideration as last pre- sented, I feel the difficulty of the hypothesis of an original law generally imposed to be much aggra- vated by the consideration you adverted to at the same time, of a provisional and conditional law — a law to operate or not, according to circumstances, as if two implements had been given to the animal, Instinct and Reason ; for I feel the very gratuitous 92 INSTINCT. nature of this assumption ; and I know that there is not a greater proof of our reasoning being merely hypothetical on any question than when we find ourselves obliged to mould, refit, and modify our hypothesis, in order that we may adapt it to the new observations of fact. JB . But there remains a difficulty still more in- superable in your way, which you do not yet advert to. The supposition of a law, and a provisional or conditional law, is all along founded on the assumption of a person to obey it, to act instinct- ively, unless a certain thing happens, and then to use Reason till a certain other thing happens, and then to fall back upon Instinct again. What can be more gratuitous, not to say absurd ? The suppo- sition that the Instinct is to cease and the Reason to begin in a certain event, implies that the animal acting by Instinct all the while was reasonable and intelligent, else how could he know when to lay down his Instinct and take up his Reason ? If I send a man to go straight on till he meets a mes- senger, or sees a finger-post, he is just as much a rational agent all the while he does not deviate from the way, as he is when, meeting the messen- ger or seeing the guide-post, he does deviate. So that the theory involves here this absurdity, that the instinctive action is all the while an intel- ligent and rational operation, contrary to the sup- position. I can really imagine nothing more de- cisive or demonstrative than this — and I purposely kept it to the last. A. Perhaps the end is not yet come ; you have said nothing of the known errors or mistakes of instinct — and thus I reserve also my strongest ar- gument to the last. I own that it was this consi- THEORY. 93 deration which, always meeting me, drove me to deny the Newtonian doctrine, and to find any or every other escape from it ; for surely if the Deity is always acting, there can be no mistake— every thing must be perfectly successful and quite cer- tain. Yet how many cases of mistaken instinct do we see ? Mules begotten ; flies deceived by the smell of the stapelia to lay their eggs where they cannot breed the maggots, supposing the vegetable an animal substance putrefying ; and many others. Now, if this was only the result of similar desires originally implanted, there is no difficulty ; for the law would be to follow that smell, and this law is obeyed. B. Now, I really think you have just yourself answered your strongest argument ; for you admit there was that general law. Had it no design ? Doubtless, and but one, to lead the animal towards its food, and the nest for its young — the two great objects of all nature, preserving the individual, and continuing the species. Yet here they fail in particular instances, and do neither. Then is not this a defect or imperfection in the general law, detracting, pro tanto , from its adaptation to work its undoubted purpose ? The same Being gave the general law whom the Newtonian theory supposes to be the particular agent. Then is it not just as inconsistent with His perfections to believe He has made a faulty statute, as to suppose that He makes a mistake in particular cases ? Can there be any difference at all here ? A. How do we get out of this in the general case? B. You mean, how do we answer sceptical, or rather atheistical arguments, drawn from these e 3 94 INSTINCT. supposed errors or imperfections ? Only by saying, that as in the great majority of cases the design is perfect, and the wisdom complete, it is probable that further knowledge would remove all apparent anomalies, and reduce everything to order, and to a consistency with perfect wisdom and skill. In truth, we always assume design, even where we cannot trace it. The physiologist never supposes any part which he sees produced, as the spleen, to have no use ; but rests satisfied that there is a purpose, though he has failed to discover it ; and he hopes that it will hereafter be revealed to his inquiring eye. So when he finds apparent imper- fection, he has a right — nay, it is sound logical rea- soning— to suppose, that further knowledge would prove it to be perfect, as in the vast bulk of cases he has found perfection. The instances of erro- neous or defective instinct are as mere nothing compared to those of true or perfect instinct. A. We also approach here the argument on the Origin of Evil. There is something to be said, though perhaps not much, as to the irreverent na- ture of the supposition that the Deity acts, consi- dering the meanness or impurity of some instinct- ive operations, and the trifling nature of others. JB. You may well say, not much in this ; there is absolutely nothing at all. Our present argument only refers to physical, and not to moral considera- tions. Moral feelings or actions are of course not instinctive at all. There is no blame where there is no choice — no knowledge — no intention — no rea- son. Then, as to indifferent acts ; there is nothing small, or mean, or impure in the Deity’s eye. There is nothing in this more than is sometimes, without due consideration, urged against the doc- THEORY. 95 trine of Essential Ubiquity. It all proceeds upon a forgetfulness that the Deity cares as much for one creature as another ; all are alike proofs of his wisdom ; all alike objects of his favour. So as to matter ; there is nothing impure or disgusting, ex- cept in relation to our weak and imperfect senses, which are, for wise purposes, so formed as to de- light in some things and to repudiate others. This is all relative, and relative to ourselves and our imperfect nature. To the Deity it can have no application. The structure and functions of the maggot, bred in the most filthy corruption that can disgust our senses, exhibits, even to the eye of the philosopher, how cumbered soever with the mortal coil, as marvellous a spectacle of Divine skill and benevolence as the sanguiferous or the nervous system of the human body, or the form of the most lovely and fragrant flower that blows. A. I think the instinct of hunger has begun to operate upon my structure ; whether stimulated by the operation of the gastric juice upon the coats of the stomach, or how otherwise, I do not stop to inquire. Nor do I apprehend that our good host- ess’s instinctive love of order and method would approve of our keeping dinner waiting. B . Your own excellent mother was the pattern of that regularity, as of so many other admirable qualities ; and the intercourse of society was in this, as in far more important particulars, greatly re- formed by her example. Therefore let us adjourn our further discussion, of which not much remains, at least not much that is difficult, till to-morrow. BOOK OR DIALOGUE III. ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE.— (Facts.) A. It must be confessed, that for a subject so extremely amusing as well as interesting in a higher view, Instinct has been giving us but little matter of entertainment. I question if any per- sons ever talked upon it for so many hours without almost a single anecdote, or illustration of any kind from the facts, which are inexhaustible in variety, and every hour present new matter of wonder. Indeed, those ordinarily known are full of interest ; and we have been going on with, I think, two, the bee and the solitary wasp, never even casting a look over the rest of this boundless and variegated field. H>. Why truly so ; and the reason is plain enough. We had a problem to solve, and we set ourselves to try our hand at it. We assumed that the whole facts resembled those few to which we applied our arguments, or from which we drew our inferences ; and our choosing two was quite right and safe — indeed, one rather than two, for we have dwelt more on the solitary wasp than even the bee, because no question could ever be made in her case of training or traditionary instruction. I do not at all repent of having pursued this course ; it FACTS. 97 lias prevented digressions and distractions, which would have ensued, had we gone upon the facts at large. We should have been perplexed, some- times by questions of evidence, sometimes by mi- nute differences of no importance to the argument, sometimes by analogies only calculated to mislead. Our way has been to pitch upon a good example or two, which in some sort embody the subject, as far as matter of fact is concerned — an abstraction of Instinct, as it were, without immaterial particu- lars—and to confine our reasonings and our illus- trations to that. However, there can be no sort of reason why we should not now reward ourselves with a little of the entertainment which, as you say, so amply belongs to this great subject. A . The Instincts which we have been considering as our choice examples, especially that of the bee, are certainly the most wonderful of all the animal phenomena. But the cases where sagacity is showm, and which seem really quite inconsistent with the doctrine that denies brutes all rational faculties, are most frequently cited to raise men’s wonder ; and, as I take it, for this reason, that we set out with supposing the common animals to be wholly devoid of intelligence, and are astonished to find them sometimes acting as if they had it — while the operations of Instinct being in many brutes above what any degree of intellect can account for, we refer these to a totally different origin. B . I quite agree with you. Perhaps one need not go much more now into examples of Instinct. None can exceed that of the bee, which has from the beginning of the creation been working, and all over the world working, in the same manner, upon 98 INSTINCT. the successful solution of a problem in the higher mathematics, which only the discovery of the dif- ferential calculus a century and a half ago could enable any one to solve without great difficulty at all ; and which a celebrated mathematician, who was devoted to the ancient geometry, though an adept also in modern analysis, when he solved, conceived that he had gained no small victory for that favourite science by showing that it could solve this question of maxima and minima. A . Nevertheless, there are other wonders of a like kind, those which show Instinct to be as great in manufactures as the honeycomb proves it to excel in architecture. The paper-making of the wasp is of this class. She makes a paper as excel- lent as any manufacturer at Maidstone ; she has been for sixty centuries acquainted with what was only discovered by men between five and six cen- turies ago — for I think the question raised by Meer- man confined the discovery to the years between 1270 and 1302, though afterwards a specimen was produced as early as 1243. Moreover, when some of the more recent improvements, as the lengthening and equalizing the fibres, are considered, it is found that the wasp was all along acquainted with these useful devices also. B. I have observed, too, in examining her structures, that she makes two kinds of paper, white and brown, the former being fine cambric paper, and the two glued together by an excellent smooth and durable kind of cement. The white paper, I find, takes the ink as well as if it were sized. A. When stories are told to excite wonder under the head of Instinct, they generally relate not to FACTS. 99 Instinct, but to the Reason or Intelligence which animals show. However, there are other wonders of Instinct beside those we have been adverting to. The uniformity of the operations of animals of the same species everywhere and at all times is re- markable ; and the expertness they show from the first clearly proves that instruction and experience has nothing at all to do with the matter. Bring up a crow under a hen or under any other bird, it makes as exact a crow’s nest as if it were born and bred in a rookery. JB . So Maraldi found that a bee an hour old flew off to the proper flowers, and returned in a little time with two pellets of farina, then sup- posed to be the material for making wax, now known to be used only in making bees breed, since the capital discovery of our John Hunter showed wax to be, like honey, a secretion of the animal. Nay, before birth too the animal works to an endr and with the same exact uniformity. The inimit- able observations of the great Reaumur show that the chick, in order to break the egg-shell, moves round, chipping with its bill-scale till it has cut off a segment from the shell. It always moves from right to left ; and it always cuts off the segment from the big end. There is no such thing as a party of what Gulliver calls “ little-endians” in nature. All these singular Instincts, however, regular and uniform though they be, are, when circumstances require it, interfered with by the rational process of adapting the means to the end, and varying those means where the end cannot otherwise be attained. But Instinct is regular and steady in all ordinary circumstances. A. The vast extent of the works performed by 100 INSTINCT. animals, especially by insects, is no less wonderful than their instinctive skill. This arises from their immense numbers, and the singular Instinct where- by they always work in concert when gregarious. What can be more astonishing than the work of the termites, or white ants, which in a night will undermine and eat out into hollow galleries a solid bed or table, leaving only the outside shell or rind, and soon will make that too disappear ! JB . Or the ant-hills in tropical countries, twelve and fifteen feet high, as if men were to make a building the height of the Andes or Himalaya Mountains, when they are vain of having made the little pyramids ? But let us go to instances of the other class — of Intelligence. A. Had we better begin this new discussion by ascertaining whether or not the doctrine of a spe- cific difference between man and the lower animals is well founded ; or had we better begin with the facts ? B. I am upon the whole for beginning with the facts ; and I should come at once, as we have just been speaking of concerted operations of Instinct, to the case of the beaver, which is, under the head of Intelligence, almost as wonderful as the pro- ceedings of the bee and the ant are under thait of Instinct. A. But before quitting the bee, and the ant, and the wasp, let us just observe their rational acts. They are nearly as notable as their instinctive ones. The bee, upon being interrupted by Huber in her operations, shortened the length of her cells ; dimi- nished their diameter ; gradually made them pass through a transition from one state to another, as if she was making the instinctive process subser- FACTS. 101 vient to the rational ; and, in fine, adapted her building to the novel circumstances imposed upon her ; making it, in relation to these, what it would have been in relation to the original circumstance if they had continued unaltered. It is found, too, that the ant, beside the wonderful works which she instinctively performs, has the cunning to keep aphides, which she nourishes for the sake of ob- taining from them the honey-dew forming her fa- vourite food, as men keep cows for their milk, or bees for their honey. B. On this discovery of Huber some doubt has lately been thrown ; and do not let us trouble our- selves with anything at all apocryphal when the great body of the text is so ample and so pure. But the expeditions of a predatory nature are by all admitted. They resemble some of the worst crimes of the human race ; the ants undertake ex- peditions for the purpose of seizing and carrying off slaves, whom they afterwards hold in subjection to do their work — so that the least significant and the most important of all animals agree together in committing the greatest of crimes — slave-trading. A . With this material difference, that the ant does not pharisaically pretend to religion and vir- tue, while we bring upon religion the shame of our crimes by our disgusting hypocrisy. But the wasp, too, shows no little sagacity as well as strength. Dr. Darwin relates an incident, to which he was an eye-witness, of a wasp having caught a fly almost of her own size ; she cut off its head and tail, and tried to fly away with the body, but finding that, owing to a breeze then blowing, the fly’s wings were an impediment to her own flight, and turned her round in the air, she came to the ground and 102 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. cut off the fly’s wings one after the other with her mouth. She then flew away with the body unmo- lested by the wind.* JB. I have myself observed many instances of similar fertility of resource in bees. But perhaps the old anecdote of the Jackdaw is as good as any — who, when he found his beak could not reach the water he wanted to drink, threw into the pitcher pebble after pebble till he raised the surface of the liquid to the level of his beak. Lord Bacon tells it of a Raven Ailing up the hollows in a tree where water had settled. A. Or the Crows of whom Darwin speaks in the north of Ireland, who rise in the air with limpets and muscles, to let them fall on the rocks and break them, that they may come at the fish. It is said that animals never use tools, and Franklin has defined man a tool-making animal ; but this is as nearly using tools as may be — at least, it shows the same fertility of resources, the using means towards an end. JB. It does a little more. It shows the highest reach of ingenuity, the using the simplest means to gain your end — the very peculiarity for which Franklin’s own genius was so remarkable. lie could make an experiment with less apparatus, and conduct his experimental inquiry to a discovery with more ordinary materials, than any other phi- losopher we ever saw. With an old key, a silk thread, some sealing-wax, and a sheet of paper, he discovered the identity of lightning and electricity. Here we are instituting a harmless comparison be- tween the bird and the sage : but the crow’s genius as said once to have come in collision with the head * Zoonomia, Sec. xvi. 16. FACTS. 103 of a philosopher in a less agreeable manner, when, mistaking the bald skull of Anaxagoras for a rock, she let fall the oyster from such a height that it killed him. A . But there certainly must be allowed to be even nearer approaches to tool-making, or, at least, to the use of tools, among animals. There are many insects which use hollow places, and some which use hollow reeds or stalks for their habitations. JB . Indeed they do ; and perhaps the most re- markable of all proofs of animal intelligence is to be found in the nymphae of Water-Moths, which get into straws, and adjust the weight of their case so that it can always float — at least, Mr. Smellie says that when too heavy they add a piece of straw or wood, and when too light a bit of gravel.* If this be true, it is impossible to deny great intelli- gence to this insect. A . Why should we doubt it? The crow in rising and letting the muscle fall shows as great knowledge of gravitation as the moth in this case. B. But an old Monkey at Exeter Change, having lost its teeth, used, when nuts were given him, to fake a stone in his paw and break them with it. This was a thing seen forty years ago by all who frequented Exeter Change, and Darwin relates it in his Zoonomia. But I must say that he would have shown himself to be more of a philosopher had he asked the showman howlhe monkey learned this expedient. It is very possible he may have been taught it, as apes have oftentimes been taught human habits. Buffon, the great adversary of brute intelligence, allows that he had known an Ape who dressed himself in clothes to which he * Transactions of Royal Society of Edinburgh, vol. i., p. 42. 104 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. had become habituated, and slept in a bed, pulling up the sheets and blankets to cover him before going to sleep ; and he mentions another which sat at table, drank wine out of a glass, used a knife and fork, and wiped them on a table-napkin. All these things, of course, were the consequence of training, and showed no more sagacity than the feats of dancing-dogs and bears, or of the learned pig — unless it wrere proved that the ape on being taught these manipulations became sensible of their convenience, and voluntarily, and by preference, practised them — a position which no experiments appear to support. Smellie, however, mentions a Cat which, being confined in a room, in order to get out and meet its mate of the other sex, learnt of itself to open the latch of a door ; and I knew a Pony in the stable here, that used both to open the latch of the stable, and raise the lid of the corn- chest — things which must have been learnt by himself, from his own observation, for no one is likely to have taught them to him. Nay, it was only the other day that I observed one of the Horses taken in here to grass, in a field through which the avenue runs, open one of the wickets by pressing down the upright bar of the latch, and open it exactly as you or I do. A . I have known, as most people living in the country have, similar instances, and especially in dogs. 13, But there is one instance of animals catching their prey in a way still more like the tool-making animal. I do not allude merely to the Spider’s web, or to the Pelican’s use of his large open pouch in fishing ; but to an American bird, of which you find a curious account in the Philadelphia Trans - FACTS. 105 actions .* It is called the neun-todter by the Ger- mans, as we should say the nine-killer , and is found to catch grasshoppers and spear them when dead upon twigs where the small birds come on which it feeds ; for the grasshoppers themselves it never touches. These are left, generally about nine in number (from whence its name), the whole winter, and they attract the birds of which the animal in question makes its prey. This is really using one creature as a bait, in order thereby to decoy and catch another. A . It is certainly a singular and curious in- stance, whether of Instinct or Intelligence. Are there not stories told of apes using a cat or some other animal — I should suppose rather anything than a cab — to get chesnuts out of the fire ? — or what else is the origin of the phrase cat's paw ? B. Fable, I presume. Many fables have a real origin in fact : this, I suspect, has not. Monkeys, on the contrary, have been used by men to obtain fruit or cocoa-nuts, by pelting them, and their defending themselves with a fire of nuts. A . That, however, is a plain instance of sagacity and imitation. They used missiles, as missiles were used against them. Some of our own belligerent measures of retaliation have not always been nearly so judiciously contrived. B. No : we once, by way of retaliating on Na- poleon, helped him ; as if the monkeys had pelted themselves, instead of throwing at us. However, an unexceptionable authority, Captain Cook, or at least Captain King, in Cook’s last voyage, has a singular instance of sagacity in the use of means, and almost weapons, in Bears. Here you have his * Vol. iv. 106 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. account of their mode of hunting : “ The wild deer ( barein ) are far too swift for those lumbering sportsmen ; so the bear perceives them at a distance by the scent ; and, as they herd in low grounds, when he approaches them, he gets upon the adjoin- ing eminence, from whence he rolls down pieces of rook ; nor does he quit his ambush, and pursue, until he finds that some have been maimed.”* A . Certainly, such a well-attested fact as this is very important, and worth a thousand stories of lions and jackals. But you spoke of coming at once to the Beaver, as the parallel to the Bee. J3. Certainly it is, and may be called, in respect of its works, the Bee of quadrupeds, or if you will, of Intelligent animals, holding among them as high a place as does the Bee among Instinctive creatures. Nevertheless, there may be some doubt raised how far Instinct has a share in his operations. They are of great uniformity : all packs or companies of beavers, and at all times, build the same shaped structure, and resemble one another closely in matters which are arbitrary, and therefore cannot be considered as the result of experience or reflec- tion— cannot be dictated by circumstances. This, however, opens a question of some difficulty, which, according to the plan we are pursuing, may be left to the end of our discussion, after we shall have gone through the facts. In considering the beaver, I think we shall do well to follow Buffon, as we did upon the ape, because he purposely re- jected everything marvellous or doubtful in the accounts he had received from travellers, and these must have been numerous, for Canada was then a French colony. Those singular animals assemble * Cook’s Third Voyage, vol. iii., p. 306. FACTS. 107 in bodies of from two to four hundred, and choose a convenient station in the lake or the river, having* regard to the slope of its banks and their woodiness, but also, no doubt, to the frequency of floods in the water. If it is a lake, or a river that varies little in its level, they build their huts without any further structure, but if the level changes much, they construct a dam or dyke, what we call a breakwater, extending eighty or a hundred feet across, and ten or twelve broad : they thus keep the water nearly of the same height, at least they thus always obtain a sufficient depth of water. They then work in concert on the wood, gnawing the trees and branches to suit their operations. A tree the thickness of a man’s body they will soon bring down by gnawing round its base, but on one side merely, and they know so exactly the opera- tion of gravity on it, that they make it fall always across the stream, so as to require no land-carriage. It must be observed, in passing, that if they do this the first time they have built, and without any previous experience of falling bodies, the operation must be taken as purely instinctive. They form their cabins so as to contain from fifteen to twenty-five or thirty animals ; each cabin has two doors, one to the land, and one to the water, in order that they may either go ashore, or bathe or swim, and sit in the water, which is part of their pleasure, or rather of their amphibious ex- istence. They have in each cabin also a storehouse for placing the parts of the shoots on which they feed (for that they make provision against winter is quite certain), and room enough for accommoda- ting their young when brought forth. The cabins are built on piles, so as to be out of the water ; 108 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. they are neatly plastered with cement, the animal’s flat and scaly tail being used as a trowel in this operation. They are of sufficient strength to resist not only the stream and floods to which occasionally they may be exposed, but also severe storms of wind. The beavers choose to work with a kind of earth not soluble in water, and which they mix with clay. Such is the account of those very rational and intelligent proceedings which Buffon, sceptical beyond all men of stories respecting animal reason, sifted out of all he had heard, after rejecting everything that bore the appearance of exaggera- tion or fancy. He adds, that a single beaver which he had, showed, in its solitary and domestic state, no signs of sagacity or resources ; but rather ap- peared to be a stupid animal. According to his strange theory, that animals are degenerating in mind, and losing their faculties as man improves (a notion derived from confounding their loss of dominion, power, and numbers, in a wild state, with their loss of intellect),* he considers the beaver as the 66 only subsisting monument of the ancient intelligence of brutes.,, A. They say doubts have of late been cast upon the former accounts of the beaver. I am told, Hearne, one of the best North American travellers, is cited for this. J5. Here is what that excellent observer says upon the subject : you shall judge if he has in the least altered the case. The beavers select, he says, either in small lakes or in rivers, spots where the water is of such depths as not to freeze to the bottom, preferring, however, running water, be- cause this helps them to convey the timber they * VqI. iv., p. 73, and v., p. 21. FACTS. 109 require. They begin by forming a dyke across with fascines, stones, and mud, but without piles buried in the ground ; this dyke, whose only use is to give them a convenient level of water, is convex on the upper side fronting the stream ; and it be- comes solid and strong by repeated repairs, so that the branches sprout, and birds build in the hedge which it forms. Each hut contains commonly one or two, but sometimes four families ; and some- times each is separated from the others by a parti- tion. The hut has a door opening on the water, and no connexion with the land. He then goes on to show how they cut down and build, wherein he differs from the common accounts only in saying that no piles are used in the construction. They work, he says, only by night, and each season they cover the buildings with a new coat of mud-plaster, as soon as the frost sets in. In summer they make ex- cursions in the woods, choosing the trees they mean to make use of, and marking the position of new settlements, when their increase of numbers requires them to plant colonies. Their wood-cutting begins at the end of summer, and the building is carried on in autumn. They have also subterraneous re- treats along the banks of the river or lake, to serve as a place of refuge when they may be attacked by the glutton. You perceive, then, that there is very little discrepancy between this account and Buffon’s ; indeed, there is one remarkable addition to the latter, if it can be relied upon, the precau- tion taken in summer to choose and to mark out the convenient stations where the new settlements are afterwards to be made. A. There seems reason to suppose that other animals still preserve their sagacity and act in con- F 110 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. cert. No one can have observed a flock of pigeons without perceiving that they have sentinels posted to give the alarm. Indeed, wilder birds act in like manner. Fieldfares, when they are occupying a tree which you approach, remain steady and fear- less until one at the extremity rises on her wings and gives a loud and very peculiar note of alarm, when they all get up and fly, except one who con- tinues till you get near, as if she remained to see that there really was occasion for the movement, and to call them back if the alarm proved a false one. She too at length flies off repeating the alarm-note. B . In the forests of Tartary and of South Ame- rica, where the Wild Horse is gregarious, there are herds of five hundred or six hundred, which, being ill prepared for fighting, or indeed for any resistance, and knowing that their safety is in flight, when they sleep, appoint one in rotation who acts as sentinel, while the rest are asleep. If a man approaches, the sentinel walks towards him as if to reconnoitre or see whether he may be deterred from coming near — if the man continues, he neighs aloud and in a peculiar tone, which rouses the herd and all gallop away, the sentinel bringing up the rear. Nothing can be more judicious or rational than this arrangement, simple as it is. So a horse, belonging to a smug- gler at Dover, used to be laden with run spirits and sent on the road unattended to reach the rendez- vous. When he descried a soldier he would jump off the highway and hide himself in a ditch, and when discovered would fight for his load. The cunning of Foxes is proverbial ; but I know not if it was ever more remarkably displayed than in the Duke of Beaufort’s country ; where Reynard, being FACTS. Ill hard pressed, disappeared suddenly, and was, after strict search, found immersed in a water-pool up to the very snout, by which he held a willow-bough hanging over the pond. The cunning of a Dog, which Serjeant Wilde tells me of, as known to him, is at least equal. He used to be tied up as a pre- caution against hunting sheep. At night he slipped his head out of the collar, and returning before dawn, put on the collar again, in order to conceal his nocturnal excursion. Nobody has more fami- liarity with various animals (beside his great know- ledge of his own species) than my excellent, learned, and ingenious friend, the Serjeant ; and he pos- sesses many curious ones himself. His anecdote of a drover’s dog is striking, as he gave it me, when we happened, near this place, to meet a drove. The man had brought seventeen out of twenty oxen from a field, leaving the remaining three there mixed with another herd. He then said to the dog “ Go, fetch them and he went and singled out those very three. The Serjeant’s brother, however, a highly respectable man, lately Sheriff of London, has a dog that distinguishes Saturday night, from the practice of tying him up for the Sunday, which he dislikes. He will escape on Saturday night and re- turn on Monday morning. The Serjeant himself had a gander which was at a distance from the goose, and hearing her make an extraordinary noise, ran back and put his head into the cage — then brought back all the goslings one by one and put them into it with the mother, whose separation from her brood had occasioned her clamour. He then re- turned to the place whence her cries had called him. I must however add, that I often have con- versed with Scotch shepherds coming up from tho F 2 112 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. Border country to our great fairs, and have found them deny many of the stories of the miraculous feats of sheep-dogs. Alfred Montgomery and I, the other day, cross-questioned a Roxburghshire shepherd with this result. A . Many of the feats which we are now ascrib- ing to intellectual faculties may be instinctive operations. How shall we distinguish ? B. The rule seems simple. Where the act is done in ordinary and natural circumstances, it may be called instinctive or not, according as it is what our reason could, in the like circumstances, enable us to perform or not, and according as the animal is in a situation which enables him to act know- ingly or not. Thus a bee’s cell is made by a crea- ture untaught ; a solitary wasp provides food for an offspring it never can see, and knows nothing of. We set these things down to Instinct. If horses, fearing danger, appoint a sentinel, it may be In- stinct certainly, but there is here nothing to exclude Intelligence, for they do a thing which they may well do by design, and so differ from the bee ; they are aware of the object in view, and mean to attain it, and so differ from the wasp. But these remarks apply to acts done in ordinary circumstances, and which I admit may or may not be instinctive. Another class is clearly rather to be called rational. I mean where the means are varied, adapted, and adjusted to a varying object, or where the animal acts in artificial circumstances in any way. For example, the horse opening a stable-door, the cat a room-door, the daw filling a pitcher writh stones. So there is a singular story told by Dupont de Ne- mours in Autun’s Animaux Celebres , and which he says he witnessed himself. A Swallow had FACTS. 113 slipped its foot into the noose of a cord attached to a spout in the College des Quatre Nations at Paris, and by endeavouring to escape had drawn the knot tight. Its strength being exhausted in vain attempts to fly, it uttered piteous cries, which assembled a vast flock of other swallows from the large basin between the Tuilleries and Pont Neuf. They seemed to crowd and consult together for a little while, and then one of them darted at the string and struck at it with his beak as he flew past ; and others following in quick succession did the same, striking at the same part, till after continuing this combined operation for half an hour, they suc- ceeded in severing the cord and freeing their com- panion. They all continued flocking and hovering till night ; only, instead of the tumult and agitation in which they had been at their first assembling, they were chattering as if without any anxiety at all, but conscious of having succeeded. A . The means taken to escape from danger, and to provide for security, are certainly often of this description, the danger being often of a kind purely accidental and solitary, and the operation of the animal varying in different and new circumstances. Some birds wholly change their mode of building to avoid snakes, hanging their nests to the end of branches, and making the exit in the bottom, in places where those reptiles abound. JB. So too the Ants in Siam make no nests on the ground, as with us, but on trees, that country being much subject to inundations. But you find this change of habits in animals, upon circumstances changing, pretty general. The Dogs which the Spaniards left in the island of Juan Fernandez were found to have lost the habit of barking, when 114 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. Juan and D’Ulloa visited that famous spot in the course of their journey in South America. Possibly they found that barking warned their prey, and enabled it to escape. But Dogs in Guinea howl and do not bark, and when European dogs are taken there they lose their bark in three or four generations. This fact, then, is somewhat equi- vocal. A. The docility of some animals may, however, as it seems to me, be strictly ranged within the class of facts we are speaking of. Although chil- dren, as well as animals, learn through fear and kindness, both operating (and fear alone would suffice), yet it is an act of Intelligence to follow the dictates of both feelings : it implies this pro- cess of reasoning, — “ If I do so and so, I shall have such a punishment or such a reward.” Now the degree to which animals are teachable is won- derful. All Singing-Birds probably learn their whole notes. JB. Yes ; Daines Barrington has demonstrated this by numerous experiments * on various birds ; the young untaught birds, being placed in the nests of different species of birds, always had the song of those it nestled with ; and we all know how a Piping Bullfinch can be taught almost any tune. They seem to have no notion of harmony or me- lody. I recollect a Green Linnet, which I had when a boy, or rather a mongrel between that and a goldfinch, being placed in a kitchen, and leaving its own fine and sweet notes, to take to an imita- tion, and a very good and exceedingly discordant one, of a jack which, being ill-constructed, gene- rally squeaked as if it wanted oiling. * Phil. Trans., 1776. FACTS. 115 A . Dogs show the greatest talents in learning. The feats of pointers, but stijl more of shepherds’ dogs, after making all the deductions you have mentioned, are astonishing. It almost seems as if the shepherd could communicate, by sign or by speech, his meaning, when he desires to have a particular thing done. But assuredly the dog takes his precautions exactly as he ought, to prevent the sheep from scattering, and to bring back run- aways. Indeed, Greyhounds and other dogs of chace, as well as Pointers backing one another, show the adaptation of, and variation in, the means used towards an end. B. Retrievers exceed all other dogs in this re- spect. There was one died here a year or two ago that could be left to watch game, till the keeper went to a given place, and she would then join him after he had ranged the field ; nay, could be sent to a spot where game had been left, and where she had not been before. Indeed, she did many other things which I have hardly courage to relate. A. How were her pups ? I have always found such extraordinary faculties hereditary. B. My worthy, intelligent, and lamented friend, T. A. Knight (so long President of the Horticul- tural Society), has proved very clearly that the faculties of animals are hereditary to such a point as this. He shows that even their acquired facul- ties— the expertness they gain by teaching — de- scends in the race. His paper is exceedingly cu- rious. But I think we need hardly go so far as to his minute details for proof of the fact. It is found that where man has not been, no animals are wild and run away from his approach. When Bougainville went to the Falkland Islands (or, as 116 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE the French call them, the Malouines), he found himself and his men immediately surrounded by all kinds of beasts and birds, the latter settling on their shoulders. No navigators had ever been there before. Lord Monboddo says that the same thing had been related to him by navigators.* It seems clear, then, that the running away from man, which seems natural to all wild animals in or bor- dering upon inhabited countries, is an acquired propensity, transmitted to the descendants of those whose experience first taught it them as necessary for their safety. A. Have you Knight’s paper he? $ ? I know the accuracy of his observation to equal his great in- genuity. j B. To that I too can bear my testimony. Here is his principal paper, read lately before the Royal Society. It is given as the result of his observa- tions and experiments, made for a period of sixty years ; it is therefore most justly entitled to great respect. He chiefly dwells on the case of Spring- ing Spaniels, and among other instances gives this, which is indeed very remarkable. He found the young and untaught ones as skilful as the old ones, not only in finding and raising the woodcocks, but in knowing the exact degree of frost which will drive those birds to springs and rills of unfrozen wrater. He gives the instance, too, of a young re- triever, bred from a clever and thoroughly- taught parent, which, being taken out at ten months old, with hardly any instruction at all, behaved as well and knowingly as the best-taught spaniel, in rush- ing into the water for game that was shot, when pointed out to it, however small, bringing it, and * Origin of Language, b. ii., ch. 2. FACTS. 117 depositing it, and then going again, and when none remained, seeking the sportsman and keeping by him. He imported some Norwegian ponies, mares, and had a breed from them. It was found that the produce 66 had no mouth as the trainers say; and it was impossible to give it them ; but they were otherwise perfectly docile. Now in Norway, draught horses, as I know, having travelled there and driven them, are all trained to go by the voice, and have no mouth. — Again, he observed that they could not be kept between hedges, but walked deli- berately through them — there being, he supposes, none in the country from which their dams came. A . Does he speak of any other animal ? B. Yes, he mentions his observation on Wood- cocks, which he could remember having been far less wild half a century ago ; for on its first arrival in autumn, it was tame, and chuckled about if dis- turbed, making but a very short flight, whereas now, and for many years past, it is very wild, run- ning in silence and flying far. He gives an in- stance of sagacity in a Dog, unconnected with hereditary intelligence. He one day had gone out with his gun and a servant, but no dog. Seeing a cock, he sent the servant, who brought this spaniel. A month afterwards he again sent for the same dog from the same place. The servant was bring- ing him, when at twenty yards from the house the spaniel left him, and ran away to the spot, though it was above a mile distant. This he often re- peated, and always with the same result ; as if the animal knew what he was wanted for. Leonard Edmunds tells me of a dog (a Newfoundland spaniel) of Mr. Morritt’s, at Rokeby, which has been known to take the shorter road to where he f 3 118 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. knew he was wanted, and leave the servant or keeper to go round about. You yourself told me of a dog that met you sporting by a short cut un- known to you. A. The manner in which animals can find their way is very extraordinary. But though, in many cases, it may be through close observation, and observation the clearer and better remembered be- cause, like the Indian woodsmen, they have so few ideas ; yet, in other cases, it seems an Instinct very difficult to conceive in its workings. In truth, if the stories told be true, I question if any instance we have yet examined of Instinct be so truly un- accountable on any principles of intelligence. I have known of dogs sent to a distance, and coming home immediately, though taken in the dark. JB. That might be from smell or track, but stories are also told of dogs and cats taken in ham- pers, and finding their way back speedily. L. Ed- munds had one that was carried from Ambleside to three miles on the other side of Burton, a dis- tance of twenty-seven miles, in a close hamper, by a coach; and it found its way back next morning. Dr. Beattie’s account of a dog which was carried in a basket thirty miles’ distance, through a country he never had seen, and returned home in a week, is less singular than this, even if it were as well authenticated. Dr. Hancock, in his excellent work on Instinct, which, however, contains fully as much upon the peculiar tenets of the Society of Friends as upon our subject, relates the story of a dog being conveyed from Scotland to London by sea, and finding his way back ; of a Sheep returning from Yorkshire to Annandale, a distance of at least eighty miles ; and of another Sheep returning FACTS. 119 from Perthshire to the neighbourhood of Edin- burgh. Kirby and Spence, too, in their Introduc- tion to Entomology , state, on the authority of a captain in the Navy, a strange anecdote of an Ass taken from Gibraltar to Cape de Gat on board of ship, and finding its way immediately back through Spain to the garrison, a distance of two hundred miles of very difficult country. The ass had swam on shore when the ship was stranded. This fact seems to be well authenticated, for all the names are given, and the dates. A. There is no end of such facts, and many of them seem sufficiently vouched. The Letters on Instinct mention a cat which had been taken to the West Indies, and on the ship returning to the Port of London she found her way through the city to Brompton, whence she had been brought. JB . That is a work I have often wished to see, and never been able to get. Dr. Hancock quotes it for one of the most remarkable proofs of sagacity and resource in the Goat, and this operation has been, it seems, observed more than once. When two Goats meet on a ledge bordering upon a pre- cipice, and find there is no room either to pass each other, or to return, after a pause, as if for reflec- tion, one crouches down and the other walks gently over his back, when each continues his perilous journey along the narrow path. A. In Bees’s Cyclopaedia a story is given as well vouched, of a cat that had been brought up in amity with a bird, and being one day observed to seize suddenly hold of the latter, which hap- pened to be perched out of its cage, on examining, it was found that a stray cat had got into the room, and that this alarming step was a manoeuvre to 120 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. save the bird till the intruder should depart. But what do you make of carrier-pigeons ? The facts are perhaps not well ascertained ; there being a good deal of mystery and other quackery about the training of them. B . I desired one of the trainers (they are Spital- fields weavers generally) to come, that I might examine him about his art, but he has never been with me. I have read and considered a report made to me on the subject. It is said the bird begins his flight by making circles, which increase more and more in diameter as he rises ; and that he thus pilots himself towards his ground. But still this indicates an extraordinary power of observa- tion ; for they come from Brussels to London and return. Nay, they have been known to fly from the Rhine to Paris. Serjeant Wilde took pigeons of the Rock kind to Hounslow, and they flew back to Guildford-street in an hour. They were taken in a bag, and could see or smell nothing by the way. On being let loose, they made two or three wide circles, and then flew straight to their dove- cot. The Serjeant also knew of a cat which a shopkeeper’s apprentice in Fore-street had been desired to hang, and found he could not. He then took it in a bag to Blackfriars Bridge and threw it into the river — the cat was at home in Fore-street as soon as the apprentice. He might have made a circuit, but certainly the cat returned in an hour or two. The grocer’s name was Gardner — the distance is certainly above a mile, and through the most crowded part of London. The case of bees is referable to Instinct clearly. Honey-finders in America trace their nests by catching two bees, carrying them to a distance, and letting them fly. FACTS, i2i Each takes the straight line towards the nest or hive, and by noting these two lines, and finding where they intersect each other, the hive is found. Now the bee is known to have a very confined sphere of vision, from the extremely convex form of her eye. She is supposed only to see a yard or so before her. A. I fancy we must pass over the subject of migration for a like reason. It seems still involved in much obscurity and doubt, though I take for granted that no one now yields to Haines Barrings ton’s theory, which denies it altogether. B. Clearly no one ; the facts are quite indis- putable as far as negativing that goes ; and indeed his reasonings are so full of prejudice, or precon- ceived opinion, and his suppositions for disposing of the facts so strained, that his argument never could have had much weight. One fact seems also not to be disputed, and is referable to Instinct alone. I mean the agitation which, without any cause, comes on upon a bird of any of the migra- tory classes at the appointed season of migration. It is, in all probability, connected with the sexual impulses. A. The communication with each other, which' animals have by sounds or signs, can, I think, hardly be doubted. B. The observations of Huber clearly show that ants have a kind of language by means of their feelers or antennae ; and every day’s experience4 seems to show this in other animals. A. Some believe that they have a notion of what men are saying, and no doubt very strange and lucky guesses have sometimes been made, one of whieh I wrote you an account of. I had it from a 122 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. most accurate and literal person, and it tends to prove that his shooting dogs had found out his in- tention of going into Nottinghamshire the day after. However, it is perfectly clear that these things are referable to minute and exact observa- tion of things which escape us in the greater multi- tude of our ideas and concerns. All this, however, only illustrates the more how well animals can profit by experience, and draw correct inferences from things observed by them. B . Among other instances referable plainly to intelligence must be ranked the devices which one animal is known to fall upon for benefiting by an- other’s operations. The ant enslaving workers is the most curious instance certainly. But the cuckoo laying in other birds’ nests, and leaving her progeny to be brought up by them, is another. Nor can this be set down wholly to the score of Instinct ; for there are abundant proofs of her also building when she cannot find a nest, and then she lays in her own, and hatches and rears her brood. This curious and important fact, long disbelieved by vulgar prejudice, was known to that great ob- server Aristotle, who says she sometimes builds among rocks, and on heights.* Darwin confirms this by the observations of two intelligent friends whom he cites. f The man-of-war bird is a still more singular instance of contrivance, for though its food is fish, it has not such a form as to be fit for catching any, and therefore it lives piratically on the prey made by other fishing birds ; hence the name we have given it. A . Only think of our never having all this while said a word, or more than a word, of either the * Lib. vi., c. 1. f Zoonomia, vol. xvi., p. 13. FACTS. 123 Fox or the Elephant, proverbially the two wisest of animals. Of the former’s cunning every day shows instances ; but that the elephant should be left to take care of a child unable to walk, and should let it crawl as far as his own chain, and then gently lift it with his trunk and replace it in safety, seems really an* extraordinary effect of both intelligence and care, and shows that fine animal’s gentle nature, of which so many anecdotes are told by travellers in the East. B . The amiable qualities of brutes are not quite within the scope of our discussion, unless indeed in so far as whatever things are lovely may also be said to betoken wisdom, or at least reflection. The natural love of their offspring I should hardly cite in proof of this, because it seems rather an in- stinctive feeling. But the attachments formed be- tween animals of different classes, a cat and a horse, a dog and a man, and often between two elderly birds, may be cited as interesting. One of these friends has been known to be unable to sur- vive the other. I have heard this of two old par- rots, upon the best authority. A. We have said nothing of fishes, or of any marine animals. B . Why, of these our knowledge is necessarily very limited. That they have remarkable Instincts, some of them resembling those of land animals, is certain. The Sepia, or cuttle-fish, ejecting a black or dark-brown fluid to facilitate his escape, resem- bles the stratagem of some beasts emitting an in- tolerable effluvia in the face of their pursuers. The Whale, when attacked by the Sword-fish, diving to such a depth that his enemy cannot sustain the pressure of the water, is another well- 124 ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE. known example of defensive action. I used to ob- serve with Jmterest the wary cunning of the old Carp in the ponds here : there was no decoying them with bait, which the younger and less expe- rienced fish took at once. So little have men for- merly undervalued the faculties of fishes, that Plutarch wrote an ingenious treatise in the form of a dialogue, on the question whether land or water animals have the most understanding. A. How does he treat this odd question ? j B. Here is his book ; and certainly as far as the first portion of the subject goes, where the merits of land animals are concerned, he sails before the wind. To his first remark I willingly subscribe, that those hold the most stupid doctrine upon the subject (ot afieXrepwg Xeyorrsg) who say that ani- mals do not really fear, rejoice, remember, rage, &c., but only do something like fearing, rejoicing, &c. (w