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I I

LOWELL LECTURES:

1871.

INSTINCT:

ITS OFFICE IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM,

AND

ITS RELATION TO THE HIGHER POWERS IN MAN

P.^AT^^HADBOURNE, LL.D., 1 "^ 'Xb 'i%"i^

A.UTHOR OF "RELATIONS OF NATURAL HISTORY," "NATURAL
THEOLOGY," ETC.

NEW YORK
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

27 AND 29 West 23d St.
1883

Entered according to Act of Congress, m the year 1872, by

GEO. P. PUTNAM & SONS,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

G 6<=|

■ BE FURiHcri.
;.OUND>

IP

To

GIDEON L. SOULE, LL.D.,

PRINClPAIi OF PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.

Sir,— I dedicate these Lectures to you with grateful remembrance of
your counsels and instruction, and with sincere admiration for that schol-
arship and wisdom which, for fifty years, have done so much for the honor
and usefulness of the Institution over which you preside.
With great respect and esteem,

1 am most truly yours,

P. A. CHADBOURNB.

" But I see auotlier law in my members warring against tlie law of my
mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin, whicli is in my
members."— Romans, chap. vii. ver. 23.

" But mind this : the more we observe and study, the wider the range
of the automatic and instinctive principles in body and mind and morals,
and the narrower the limits of the self-determining, conscious move-
ment."—Holmes, Autocrat of Breakfast Table, p. 95.

" As dependent upon bodily organization, as actuated by sensual pro-
pensities and animal wants [man], belongs to matter, and, in this re-
spect, he is the slave of necessity. But what man holds of matter does
not make up his personality. * * * He is conscious to himself of facul-
ties not comprised in the chain of physical necessity." — HAitcLTON,
Metaphysics (Bowen), p. 16.

—"We can hardly find a more suitable expression to indicate those
incomprehensible spontaneities themselves, of which the primary facts
of consciousness are the manifestations, than rational, or intellectual In-
stincts.''^—Ibid., p. 505.

" Now it may be that what we call instinct here, has not been suffi-
ciently investigated. We hear men speak of the higher instincts and of
rational instincts. Are these, then, for the higher nature what the lower
instincts are for the lower? As many view it, What is Conscience but a
rational instinct, a guide without comprehension, but rational, because
it reveals itself as the voice of God, which all instinct is, without thus
revealing itself ? "—President Hopkins, Moral Science, 1st Ed., p. %\L

CONTENTS

LECTURE I.

INTRODUCTORY.

PAG«

Investigations respecting the origin and destiny of man.— The central
question.— Conditions of human progress.— Importance of man's animal
nature.— Comparative psychology.— Power of definitions.— Mistake in
use of formulas.— Definitions of instinct.— Vital activities to be traced.
—Apparent work of instinct.— Utilizes structure and function.— Includes
impulse, knowledge, skill. — Natural history and speculative philosophy.
— Man the perfection of the vertebrate type.— Organs put to a higher
use as the nature of the being demands. — Mind and thought.— Diverse
philosophical views.— AVork defined.— Results to be reached.— Topics
for discussion 17

LECTURE IL

OPERATIONS IN INORGANIC NATURE AND PLANT LIFE THAT
SIMULATE INSTINCT.

Definitions of Paley, Whately, and Hamilton considered.— The office of
the physical forces.— Life, sensation, volition.— Method of discussion
explained.— Positivism.— Instinct part of a series of agencies. — Life
depending upon the position of the earth and the changes within it. —
Geologic changes.— Activities of the plant.- Instinct-like provisions of
plants.— Community of action. — Special provision of the tree for itself
— Wise economy of plants.— Movement of plants.— Special structures
and functions.— Provision made by plants for their young 40

viii Contents.

LECTURE III.

OPERATIONS IN PHYSIOLOGY SIMULATING INSTINCT ; AND THE
LOWEST FORMS OF INSTINCT FOR THE WELFARE OF THE INDI-
VIDUAL ANIMAL SUPPLEMENTING PHYSIOLOGY OR FUNCTION OF
ORGANS.

PAGE

Intelligent and instinctive acts.— The tent-moth.— Animal physiology.—
Structure, function, and instinct supplementing each other. — Unity
from system. — Specific plans.— Servitude of plants. — Life and its phe-
nomena.—Evolution of the tree. — The animal body a machine.— Its
evolution from the &^Z- — Variables giving rise to species. — Alchemists.
—Evolution of a specific form, the robin.- Growth of the bird requir-
ing instinctive action. — The first instinctive act. — Selection of food. —
Relation of life to the physical forces.— Doctrine of evolution.— Higher
manifestation of instinct in securing food 67

LECTURE IV.

HIGHER FORMS OF INSTINCT FOR THE WELFARE OF THE INDI-
VIDUAL OR THE SPECIES, HAVING NO IMMEDIATE RELATION TO
STRUCTURE OR FUNCTION OF ORGANS.

Intelligence guided by experience.— Instinct independent.— A natural
development. — Building of nests or homes.— Perfection of nest no test
of the animal's rank.— The facts of building stated.— Relation of build-
ing to structure and function.— Variation in building.— Swallows.—
Thrushes.— Oriole.— Black-birds. — Sparrows. — Nests from different
localities. — Mr. Wallace's theory.— Difference in building power.—
Improvement by practice.— The cow-bird.— Supplementary instinct of
the foster-parent— Change of instinct compared with change in plants. 93

LECTURE V.

SOME MANIFESTATIONS OF HIGHER INSTINCT. — RELATION OF
INSTINCT TO SPECIAL STRUCTURE AND FUNCTION.

Relation of the appetites to the instincts.— Perfection of the work no
proof of intelligence in the actor.— Test of intelligence.— Flexibility of
instinct,— The ampelopsis.— The bean.— The potato.— The knowledge
of enemies among fowls. — Common defence. — Simulation of death.—
Instinct and climatic change.— The muskrat.~The partridge.— Instincts
learned from observation alone.— Instincts essential to life.— Origin of

Contents^ ix

PAGE

instinctive powers.— Hibernation.— DiflBculties of the natural selection
theory.— Special structures.— The rattlesnake, bee, wasp, and hornet.
—Relation of instinct to color and form.— Cases cited from Wallace-
Relation of instinct to experience.— Seventeen-year locusts m

LECTURE VI.

INSTINCT FOR COMMUNITIES OF ANIMALS. — ITS RELATION TO
THE DOCTRINE OF NATURAL SELECTION.

Illustrations of the community system.— The cow-bird.— Three kinds
belonging to the same species. — Necessity for slaves among ants. —
The brood or annual flock. — Permanent organization. — Leaders. — Sen-
tinels.—Pelicans of Utah Lake.— The beaver.— Morgan's work.— The
rank of the beaver. — The muskrat. — Variation of instinct necessary. —
Complexity of work no proof of intelligence.— Consideration of theo-
ries.—Accumulated work of intelligence.— Instinct like it, in effect.—
The honey-bee. — Bumble-bees and wasps. — Slave-ants.— Darwin's
explanation.— Difficulties.— Natural selection and variation not suffi-
cient—Wallace on natural selection applied to man 137

LECTURE VIL

INSTINCT CONNECTED WITH THE PARENTAL RELATION. — AS DE-
MANDING CERTAIN CHANGES IN OTHER ANIMALS AND PLANTS.
— AS A LAW FOR THE ANIMAL. — AS SUBJECT TO VARIATION.

Effect of parental instinct.— Completes its course.— Disturbed by domes-
tication.—Answering instinct of the young.— Correlation of the three
kingdomsofnature.— Hibernation.— Gall-flies. — Ichneumon-flies.~Bot-
fly.— Tent-moth.— Oak-pruners.— Borer.— Preservation of the fittest. —
Instinct as a law.— Uniformity among animals.— Periodicity and self-
regulating power of the appetites. — Instinct can be deceived.— Follows
the impression of the senses.— Variation of instinct.— Production of
varieties.— Definition of an instinct, and of instinct as a general term, . . 157

LECTURE VIIL

HIGHER CHARACTER OF ANIMALS. — ANIMALS COMPARED
WITH MAN.

Knowledge from experience. — Do animals think ? — Definition of thinking.
—Conditions of the act to be studied.— Difficulty of the work.— Con-
dition of the animal. — Physical structure and growth in men and ani-
mals.—The senses in both.— Physiological likeness.— Capacity of

Cojitents.

PAGE

animals for pain and enjoyment. — Psychological effects of sensations
in animals. — Fear, anger, joy, grief, shame. — The desires. — Esthetic
nature of animals. — Animals learn by experience.— Their actions com-
pared with those of man. — Taming and trapping animals. — Memory of
animals.— Dreaming.— Summation of the argument. — Instinct the con-
trolling power.— The rights of animals 187

LECTURE IX.

INSTINCT IN MAN GROWING OUT OF HIS APPETITES. — ANIMAL
IN THEIR ORIGIN.

Man and animals compared.— Observation and study a necessity for
man. — The higher ruling principle. — Free personality. — Complexity of
man's nature. — Origin and use of the appetites. — Narrow range of
animal instinct in the child. — Nursing.— Fear. — Moral instincts.— Ani-
mal instincts to be governed.— Marriage.— The desires.— Desire of life,
of knowledge, of power, of esteem, of society. — Revolutions and
reformations.— Summation of activities 211

LECTURE X.

RELATION OF THE INSTINCTIVE PRINCIPLES OF ACTION TO THE '
RATIONAL AND MORAL NATURE OF MAN.

Intuitions and instincts.— Something must be given as a basis for reason-
ing and for acting. — Agricultural ants. — Belief in the uniformity of
natural phenomena, from observation. — Instinct acts in reference to
contingent events.— Purposes for which instinctive principles are
needed by man.— The desires. — The affections.— Love of society. —
Knowledge, property, power, esteem. — Faith. — Benevolence. — Need
of guidance in man. — The ruling power. — Conflict between the higher
and lower instincts. — The comprehending power. — Difference between
man and the highest animals. — " Ought." — Sense of obligation 229

LECTURE XL

THE MORAL INSTINCTS. — OBLIGATION.

Law of being defined. — Relation of men and animals to this law.— Con-
ditions under which obligation arises.- Man's freedom.— Self-denial.—
Effects of ignorance.— Relation of obligation to the judgment.— Double
action of obligation.— Doing right because it is right.— Obligation to do
justly.- Four manifestations of obligation.— Its action compared with

Contents. xi

PAGE

the instincts. — Its relation to progress.— Moral conflicts. — Choice. —
Free personality.— Accountability.— Remorse.— Man compared with
an animal. — Moral powers always found in him. — The perfection and
sphere of the animal.— The sphere of man's action 256

LECTURE XII.

RELIGIOUS INSTINCTS.— SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION.

Summary of principles.— Their existence denied, — May be dormant.—
Assert their sway.— Knowledge of God.— Instinct of a child.— Natural
religion.— Revelation.— Instinct of prayer.— Of worship.— Analogous to
animal instincts. — Individual accountability. — Diagram of powers. —
Explanation of activities.— Choice of an ultimate end.— Provisions for
every appetite and desire. — Summary of lectures.— Defects of our edu-
cation.—Man's power over the universe. — His relationship to it.— Pre-
pare the way for progress. — The laborers needed.— Influence of names.
— ^Transition period. — Final results of the study and control of all the
powers 279

APPENDIX ., 305

PEEFAOE

Since these Lectures were written several im-
portant works have appeared that discuss many of
the points here presented. It is proper to say that
the outHne of the Lectures was sketched in the
Author's Natural Theology published in 1867 ;
and many of the discussions are here abridged be-
cause presented with fulness in that work. In
some places the discussion has taken the form of
criticism of other works. This could not be avoid-
ed without ignoring many scientific and practical
questions that are now topics of universal interest.
Great respect is due to the opinions of those who
have carefully studied any subject, but they are to
be accepted only when borne out by facts. The
necessity for independent investigation and thought
is constantly pressed upon us by the fact that on
many subjects discussed in these Lectures, the
most diverse views are held by able men who have
enjoyed equal advantages for investigation. Every

14 Preface.

observer and thinker may do something to settle
these disputed points, but the scantiness of materi-
als generally at hand and the liability to error in
the interpretations of facts, should make every la-
borer cautious in his own work and lenient towards
the mistakes of others. It is with a deep convic-
tion of the need of the hearty cooperation of the
cultivators of different fields of science, especially
of Naturalists and Mental Philosophers, in the full
study of man, that these Lectures are presented to
the public. The necessity of investigation in spe-
cial departments of science is readily conceded.
But if men must consume all their strength on one
specialty they should remember that excellence in
that is no measure of their ability to decide ques-
tions in other departments. But such excellence
in a single specialty, however restricted, is too often
taken by its possessor and by the community as a
measure of his just authority on every question he
chooses to decide. Broad culture as a foundation
for scientific attainments, respect for other sciences
than our own and intercourse with those who view
the same subjects from other stand-points than our
own, are absolutely essential for safe generalizations
in those complex sciences that relate to animal and
rational life.

If these Lectures quicken the interest of any
in the study of nature or in a more thorough in-

Preface, 1 5

vestigatlon of their own complex powers, so that
our relations to the world shall be better under-
stood, they will subserve the purpose for which
they were written.

WiLLIAMSTOWN, MASS.,
November i, 1871.

SECO]^D EDITIOI^.

The first edition of this work was soon ex-
hausted, and the author promised himself and the
publishers to embody in a new edition the results
reached by other investigators, as well as additions
to the discussion as here presented. The pressure
of ofificial duties caused delay, and the material
constantly increasing and giving rise to many im-
portant questions demands separate treatment,
which the writer hopes soon to give it. He finds
no occasion, however, in the new facts recorded by
investigators to essentially modify the statements
of facts and principles here made. The work has
passed under the review of those whose studies
and investigations fitted them specially for pass-
ing judgment upon these intricate questions, which
all careful students admit to be of most difificult
solution. The author is under great obligation to

1 6 Preface,

those gentlemen who have given him their sug-
gestions by private letters, as well as for the public
reviews, which, so far as he has seen, have, with a
single exception, been distinguished for fairness
and an intelligent treatment of the subject.

The author desires now to renewedly call the
attention of Naturalists and Psychologists to
the discussions here commenced, satisfied as he is
that here is a field calling for their combined study
for its successful investigation, and one worthy of
their best efforts. New facts can be gathered by
careful observers every year, but no new facts in
kind have appeared among all the recent labors of
distinguished naturalists. The origin, office, and
limit of Instinct in animals and men are subjects
still pressing upon the Psychologist as well as
Naturalist for the careful consideration of both.

Amherst, Mass.,
July I, 1882.

INSTINCT.

LECTURE I.

INTRODUCTORY.

Investigations respecting the origin and destiny of man. — The central
question.— Conditions of human progress. — Importance of Man's
animal nature.— Comparative Psychology. — Potuer of Defini-
' tions. — Mistake in use of formulas. — Definitions of Instinct. —
Vital activities to be traced.— Apparent work of Instinct.— Util-
izes structure and function. — Includes impulse, knowledge, skill.
—Natural History and Speculative Philosophy.— Man the per-
fection of the Vertebrate type.— Organs put to a higher use as the
nature of the being demands.— Mind and thotight.— Diverse phi-
losophical views.— Works defined.— Results to he reached.— Topics
for discussion,

" What is man's origin and what is his des-
tiny," is the opening sentence of the course of lec-
tures which I had the privilege of delivering in this
place five years ago. This double question is still
perplexing the world. Science is delving in bone
caves, and peat bogs and lake deposits for records
more ancient than historic books. Every split bone
and fractured flint are interrogated respecting the
customs of the early tribes of men, whose era upon

1 8 histinct.

the earth is known only by the geologic accumula-
tions above their remains, — and whose manner of
life is revealed only by the remnants of their feasts
and the instruments of stone buried in the caves
which their owners once inhabited. Every ancient
human skull is measured — as to capacity and angles
— to determine the animal affinities of man. Geol-
ogy and history, sacred and profane, are scanned as
never before — as eagerly as though the continued
existence of the race depended upon the evidence
which these records can give of the manner in which
man came upon the earth and of the time when he
came. Bone caves become ancestral mansions,
rude implements of stone the measure of man's
earliest ingenuity, and the dreariness of the glacial
period the paradise to Avhich he was welcomed.
Laborers eager and zealous, claim to have already
linked the human race to the stock from whence
sprang the ape and gorilla, and trace through
devious lines, its comparatively modern origin to
the Ascidian moUusk.

Others as busy and eager quite, are peering into
the future to learn what the race is yet to become.
They sum up the advances made by man within the
historic period, and especially within the last centu-
ry, and then inquire, " What will the powers and
opportunities of man do for him v/hen he has num-
bered as many more centuries upon the earth as he
has already numbered ? "

Many generations must pass away before there
can be any essential agreement among men who
seek either for the origin or the destiny of man from
the light of science. And so far as we can see, the

Introductory. 19

past history and the future prospects of the race, if
we are to depend upon science alone to reveal them,
must always be like the bridge in Mirza's vision
that had dark clouds resting upon either end.
More and more of the span of the bridge may come
into view to those who gaze upon it from the hill
of science, but the abutments that mark the begin-
ning of the human race, and its remotest future,
will be in clouds and darkness still.

But there is a central question that relates to
the present. What is man? If this question
could be fairly answered, his origin and destiny
would be in a measure deducible from the answer ;
or if it should throw no clearer light upon the past,
it would reveal the goal towards which man must
move, or the road along which his future course
must lie in pressing towards that goal.

Amid all the din and clamor of science, which
claims to give both the light and guidance which
man needs as well as every other means of human
progress, we wish to know what the HUMAN is, —
what it has in common with the world below it, —
what it has in its own right as its peculiar posses-
sion,— what there is in man to be ruled, — what
there is in him having power to rule.

Again then we come to the task of analyzing
human nature regardless of the sneers of those prac-
tical philosophers who talk of '' the folly and heavy
guessing of Metaphysics," grouping, as they gener-
ally do for their convenience, under this much
abused term, all those studies that relate to the
higher nature of man.

If we would improve man, we must know what

20 Instinct,

he Is, — what powers he possesses and the law of
their development. If he is a being of physical or-
ganization alone, let us understand that ; and then
give our whole strength to the study of physiology.
If he has powers that are independent of the exist-
ence of this physical organization, something added
to it, let us understand that. In fine, let us try to
understand every power that man possesses, its use
and the condition of its best activity.

Those Vvdio would reap most benefit from the
laws of nature must learn what those laws are, and
the methods by which variable combinations can
work out new results, through Invariable laws. The
wise engineer while apparently contending against
nature, always works with her and succeeds just in
proportion as he obeys her laws. The wise philan-
thropist, or social scientist, will succeed in amelior-
ating the evils of society, — will elevate the race and
secure its permanent progress, just in proportion
as he understands the laws of human life, from Its
lowest manifestations to its highest, and labors to
correct Its mistakes by working in accordance with
its own laws.

The laws of human life and its conditions of
progress are as fixed as the laws of gravitation and
cohesion. The errors and ruin of life arise from
the power of man as a free agent to trangress those
laws. It Is in the sphere of the variable, where free
personality through Ignorance or perverseness, fails
to supply the proper conditions of progress that we
find the troubles of society ; as in a fine piece of
machinery, we find ruin when an ignorant engineer

Introductory. 2 1

so arranges the parts that the power which should
form the thread and web, rends and destroys the
nice adjustments of the machine itself. If a ma-
chine is to do its full measure of work, its parts
must so move that as little power as possible shall
be lost in operating the machine itself, and its rela-
tion to the work it is to perform must be as direct
and as accurate as it is possible to make them. To
reach this result somebody must understand the
machine. The same is true in regard to man. He
is a machine of the most complex nature and he is
also the engineer. Of all the exhibitions of igno-
rance in the world, the most common and the most
disastrous in its consequences, is the ignorance of
men of the right use of their own powers and of
their relations to the work which it naturally falls
to their lot to accomplish.

We recognize man first as an animal. What-
ever higher powers may dwell in the body of m.an
that body is animal in its orgin, life and death.
The higher nature of man has for ages found dili-
gent students. And the body has revealed to sci-
ence both the structure and function of its organs so
fully that almost every tissue and vital movement
are known. The welfare of the body is now gener-
ally acknowledged to be a condition of mental pow-
er. But the animal life and animal nature have
been too often ignored or undervalued in the study
of man's higher nature. It has been deemed by
some an insult to man to give him the instincts of
the animal as the basis of his higher life or to as-

22 Instinct.

sign them any high rank as instruments of human
progress. And those who beheve in the creation of
man by a personal God have been slow to believe
that He who took the bow in the clouds existing
from the creation, as the appointed symbol of his
promise to the race, has also taken animal powers
in man and put them to a higher and nobler use
than in any of the tribes below him. They need to
study the great plan of God's economy in creation
to learn that in each new form of life, nothing new
is introduced until the possibiHties of the old forms
have been exhausted. The hand of man is no less
wonderful or noble because it is foreshadowed in ;
the fin of the fossil fish of the Silurian age.

As in the body of man we find the same sort of .
organs as in the lower tribes but fashioned for a
higher use than such animals can need, so in his
supersensual nature, we find the animal powers
ministering to a higher life than those tribes ever
possess. If there is a Comparative Anatomy there
is also a Comparative Psychology. It is only when
the comparison between men and animals is ex-
haustively made that we can reach that which is
distinctive of man. If we can find nothing distinc-
tive, then must we acknowledge him to be an ani-
mal in kind differing from the others only in degree.
If we would escape from this admission, we must
begin by granting to his animal nature all that be-
longs to it. When this is fairly done, what re-
mains we may claim as distinctively human, with
some hope of making good our claim.

In selecting INSTINCT as the subject of the pres-

Introductory. 23

ent course of lectures, we take that which has been
considered peculiarly the characteristic of the ani-
mal ; but our work will all be in the service of man.
We shall inquire into the nature of instinct, that
we may trace with more clearness the operation
of instinctive principles in our own constitution, and
be able to give them their due consideration in all
our schemes of education and social reform.

We meet a formidable difficulty at the very out-
set in the common forms of speech and in the sci-
entific definitions of Instinct and Reason. A wri-
ter should use language in its common meaning if
he can, and if he needs new words or new shades
of meaning for old ones, he ought to explain his in-
novations fully and be consistent in the use of his
new terms. But the best intentions and greatest
care will seldom secure a writer from real inconsist-
ency in the use of terms or from such a use of them
that his meaning may not in some cases be misun-
derstood, even by careful readers. When words
and phrases have had a fix-ed meaning with us, it is
difficult to constantly give a different meaning to
them. There is much error in the world that passes
current, because it comes to us in well-worn formu-
las of speech, as counterfeit money passes among
common people more readily when it has become
soiled by the fingers of the hundreds it has deceived,
than when it comes fresh from the printing-press.
The very dirt and rents are marks of many judg-
ments in its favor, and none but an expert would
pronounce against the many endorsements of gen-
uineness which it bears. It is to our mental gear

24 Instinct.

not to say our moral convictions, like the shock of
the suddenly stopping car to the body, for some
bold innovator to demolish as baseless or false, some
favorite definition — some good old form of speech
in which our thoughts had run as in the track of
truth.

But this power of language has its use. When
truth has taken a particular formula of words for
its expression, the formula alone will often answer
our purpose ; and we can use it, as does the mathe-
matician his algebraic formulas, without the trouble
of verifying them in every operation. It be-
comes one then who enters upon any investigation
or discussion for the sake of truth, to guard himself
at every step, lest he be misled by old formulas or
by taking advantage of accepted formulas, cover
error with them, deceiving himself and perchance
those whom he attempts to instruct. If his object
is simply to carry a point, the more he can bring
his new doctrines under old forms of speech and
his errors into the formulas that custom has stamp-
ed with the sanction of truth, the better will he
succeed.

There is at the present time much controversy
in the scientific world not only because men seem
determined to confine the Baconian philosophy to
matter alone, but because they insist upon using
the same formulas for very different elements in
the great circle of truth. The sine of ninety de-
grees is equal to radius, but the tangent of ninety
degrees is infinite, and any mathematician who af-
firms that they are equal simply because they are

Introductory. 25

related to the same sector of a circle, or tries to use
the formula of one for that of the other, will waste
his own labors and mislead all who trust in him.
There is one part of the quadrant in which the
tangent equals the sine of ninety degrees, and the
formula of one might be used for that of the other
without essential error. But after passing that
point they differ more and more in value, until at
another part of the quadrant no number is suffi-
ciently great to express the difference between
them. The change in the comparative value of
these two elements is analogous to the divergence
between the different elements in man's nature,
that may, under certain conditions, be expressed by
the same formulas, but which demand for their
full treatment modes of thought and formulas of
language widely different from each other.

As I propose to lecture on Instinct it might fair
ly be claimed that I should define the word at the
outset. If I were to do so, few of my audience
would agree with me fully. We should not agree
where Instinct begins to control action nor where it
gives place to another guide. It^ nature and office
would both be subjects of controversy. Were I to
copy the best definitions ever written there is not
one of them that some of us would not consider de-
fective in some respects. It would either take for
granted what we should not accept or it would deny
directly or by implication what we are ready to as-
sume as true. But we may be guided by these def-
initions, provisionally, treating them like bills before
2

26 Instinct.

our Legislature, which may be altered or amended
even to the " striking out of all but the enacting
clause," and substituting entirely different bills in
their place.

According to Paley, ^^ Instinct is a propensity
prior to experience and independent of instructio?t.'*

Whately says, '^ Instinct is a blind tendency to
some mode of action, independent of any consideration
on the part of the agent, of the efid to which the ac-
tion leads y

Hamilton gives this definition, ^^ Instinct is an
agent which performs blindly and ignorantly a work
of intelligence and knozvledgeT

Either of these definitions will serve a good pur-
pose in guiding us in our investigation. We ac-
cept neither of them as complete. We shall make
no attempt to define Instinct till the close of these
lectures. And then probably instead of attempting
a single, sirnple definition, as might be given of a
single force or mathematical figure, we shall have to
content ourselves with an enumeration of impulses
and methods of action that are called instinctive,
because they come neither from experience nor in-
struction.

We must assume that there is in the world
something which we may call matter, force, vitality,
sensation, voluntary action. Instinct and Reason.
We will make no attempt now to draw the dividing
line between them nor to determine how far one of
them can be resolved into another. These may all
be regarded, by some, as different manifestations of
the same thing ; but good usage of language de-

Introductory. 27

mands of us, or at least allows us, to use these
words as the names of distinct things and as terms
so well understood as to need no special explana-
tion, as they are used in this discussion. Their
meaning, as generally understood, is sufficiently
precise for our present purpose.

As it would be agreed by all that Instinct lies
somewhere in the field of vitality, we shall trace
that in all its manifestations, that we may find just
what activities there are in the plant, in the animal,
and in man. Throwing aside, if possible, our pre-
conceived notions of the difference between them,
w^e will inquire What they are? What they do?
And before our work is done, we may be able to see
whether there are distinct planes of being, — planes
differing in kind, — or whether all manifestations of
vitality merely differ in degree ; — whether Instinct
is something by itself as a distinct principle, or is a
mere summation of powers acting in a specific
method ; — whether it is simply an extension of phys-
iological function on the one hand, or the nebulous
form of intellect and reason on the other.

The apparent work of Instinct, or the operation
of the instinctive principles of action, is to fit the
animal to the world ; to enable him to battle for
existence, to hold his place in spite of opposing
forces and enemies, — in fact, to make the forces and
products of nature his servants so far as they are
needful for his perfection. It secures this by put-
ting him at once, by a spontaneous manifestation
of impulse, knowledge and skill, into the needful re-
lations to those objects in nature that are necessa-

28 Instinct.

xy for his individual welfare or that of the species.
It does this in many cases with almost the certain-
ty of the operations of the laws of inorganic nature.
Not more surely does the stone thrown into the
air come to the ground, or water seek a level, than
the bird knows its time for nesting and the materi-
al and fashion which mark the work of the species.
And when Instinct varies or is deceived, as some-
times happens, it is done according to some law of
the creature's being, by the introduction of some
new condition ; as the stone returning to the earth
may be turned from the curve Avhich gravitation
alone would give it, by the current of wind.

Instinct begins its work by utilizing structure
and function of organs. Has the bird a gland for
the secretion of oil ? She knows instinctively how
to press the oil from the gland and apply it to the
feather. Has the rattlesnake the grooved tooth and
gland of poison ? He knows without instruction
how to make both structure and function most ef-
fective against his enemies. Has the silk-worm the
function of secreting the fluid silk ? At the proper
time, she winds the cocoon such as she has never
seen, as thousands before have done ; and thus
without instruction, pattern or experience, forms a
safe abode for herself in the period of transforma-
tion. Has the hawk talons ? She knows by in-
stinct how to wield them effectively against the
helpless quarry.

But it is not structure and function alone that
call instinct into play. There are certain manifes-
tations of Instinct that are marvellous — manifesta-

Introductory, 29

tions that never could have been suggested to us
by the study of the structure or function of organs.
It is a function of the salmon as of the codfish to
bring forth eggs. But why does not the salmon
deposit her eggs in the salt waters where she loves
to swim ? While the codfish finds her breeding
place in the ocean, the salmon leaves the ocean and
seeks the clear cold waters of the fresh streams as
the place for depositing her eggs. She selects the
best place in the stream, and after covering her
eggs with gravel she leaves them to the care of the
elements. She has done the best in her power for
them and in all this work we say she is guided by
Instinct. But in due time by the same sort of spon-
taneous impulse and knowledge or guidance, her
young find the pathway to the ocean feeding
grounds without the parent's aid. These are fair
examples of instinctive action, or of spontaneous
impulse, knowledge and skill, which are generally
spoken of as the operations of some distinct princi-
ple in the animal.

The impulse^ that arises in every one of the spe-
cies at a given season of the year, or at a given pe-
riod of its own development, to do the same
thing — the apparent knowledge by which acts are per-
formed to meet coming emergencies, the like of
which the animals have never witnessed-the skill
in working that comes without instruction or expe-
rience— all these are inscrutible. So much of all
of these, as is needful for the preservation of each
species, it seems to have as an original outfit, and

30 Instinct.

that is all we can at present say. For convenience
we call this summation of spontaneous powers that
extend beyond physiological functions, INSTINCT.
This Instinct we find utilizing both structure and
function. And we also see it making a broader
manifestation controlling the whole being, as when
the fowl hides from the bird of prey now seen for
the first time, and the migratory birds and fishes
know their appointed seasons.

In the manifestation of Instinct in the relation of
the sexes — in the provision made by the parent in-
sect for its young which it will never see — in the
skill with which every organ is put to its specific
use, with the same celerity and accuracy by ani-
mals of the same species from age to age, we find
some ofthe most interesting fields of speculation.
It is here that Natural History and Speculative
Philosophy meet, — where they ought not to meet
as opponents, — because if they do, one of them
must be in the wrong, — but as allies in the search
for truth, in unfolding the plan of creation, in set-
ting forth its final causes and the varied relations of
its parts.

But if Natural History and Speculative Philos-
ophy are to meet on common ground and join as
helpers in a common work, each should understand
the other and not despise the materials nor the
processes which the other is compelled to use. As
to their materials, the two departments of science
differ greatly. And in the clearness and precision
of its processes. Natural History can certainly claim
wonderful advances within a short time. This gives

Introductory, 31

it the tendency to claim superiority and to chal-
lenge comparison. It is sure to come offvictor^be-
fore those guided by the senses alone. For while
great success has been achieved in providing mate-
rials for cabinets and in all fields of labor where the
senses are the chief agencies employed, the whole
supersensual world seems to be in a deplorable
state of confusion to all,except to those philosophic
minds who have the power to observe order in the
midst of seeming chaos, and have also power to con-
struct wholes from loose and disjointed fragments.
The observers of the supersensual are comparatively
few, and they are seldom young men ; for the natu-
ral field of labor of the young lies chiefly in the re-
gion of sensible objects. There is therefore, in
general, less enthusiasm and display among the stu-
dents of mind and morals than among Botanists
and Zoologists. There is in the study of the su-
persensual no method applicable for increasing the
natural power of observation with such appliances
as are always at hand for physical research and
which so impress the multitude. Each observer is
confined mainly to himself for his facts. The pe-
riod of childhood he can explore only by the dim
light of memory and by inference. In the whole
realm of animated nature below him he now is, and
must ever remain, entirely ignorant of sensation
and will, except as he infers their nature from the
study of himself and the comparison of himself with
the lower orders of creation.

This comparison of the supersensual in animals
and man should be more thorough than any that

32 Instinct.

has yet been made and its results should be honest
ly accepted.

The comparison of man's anatomical structure
with that of the lower orders of animals, has been
most perfect and satisfactory. The whole verte-
brate series is bound together with such homolo-
gies of structure that no casual observer even, can
fail to recognize the unity of plan. A careful ex-
amination of the structure of man reveals not a sin-
gle essential bone or organ that is not found in the
lower members of the vertebrate group. If we take
man as the perfection of the vertebrate type, then
it is proper to say that every essential organ in the
structure of the vertebrate anima)s is simply a mod-
ification of some organ found in man, either in his
mature or early state. This comparison has been
made so many times that the results are accepted
as those products of science which no man of com-
mon intelligence is expected to deny. If there is
doubt on any point, the materials are abundant for
re-examination of the subject. Every bone, tissue
and organ in the human body can be compared w^ith
the corresponding part in each one of the distinct
vertebrate types within a year, by hundreds of men
in different parts of the world. A new animal dis-
covered can be compared with those already known
and the modification of every organ be noted.
This correspondence of bone and muscle seems to
say that Creative Power seeks simplicity tJirough
unity of plan. He makes a hand, a foot, a wing or
fin by the modification of the same organ, or more

Introductory, , ^

strictly upon one type. So fixed is this rule that
if some vertebrate, such as had never before been
seen, were to be now discovered, we should feel
sure that its organs of locomotion, whether for run-
ning, flying or swimming, would be found to be
fashioned on the type of the human foot and hand.
But as regards the supersensual part in man com-
pared with that in the lower animals, we find among
the ablest students the most diverse opinions-
some affirming that there is nothing in man not
found in the lower animals,-that a dog even, has
more moral nature than some men : and others of
our able philosophers denying to man even the
faintest manifestation of those instinctive principles
of action that appear in the brutes. By some the
brain is regarded simply as the organ of the mitid,
which as an incorporeal existence makes the brain
Its servant, as the engineer controls the engine
which may be broken, defective and even destroyed,'
while the engineer remains with all his capacities
perfect. According to others, mind and thought
if any distinction is made between them, are both
the offspring of the brain— the result of the forma-
tion and decomposition of brain cells, the manifes-
tation of forces evolved by a sort of higher chemi-
cal action, as heat is evolved by the union of coal
and oxygen or the electrical current is set in motion
by a certain interaction of metals and acids.

While among those who have studied man most
carefully there is an essential agreement as to the
tacts of consciousness, in the metaphysical conclu.
sions as to the nature of being, of mind and the

34 Instinct,

mental processes there is the widest diversity
Nor are these speculations unimportant. They lie
at the foundation of systems of education and mor-
als. They influence us in training the young, and
in our estimate of life; and they consequently shape
the most important acts of our life. They will con-
tinue to influence the world in all its great move-
ments of moral and social reform.

In a field where the thinkers are so divided, and
wdiere nothing but careful and long-continued ob-
servation, accurate analysis and cautious generali-
zations will avail, we cannot too soon begin the
work nor prosecute it too zealously. If we are to
reach correct results, we must here pursue the true
scientific method of gathering facts and of fearlessly
following the conclusion, which those facts warrant
wherever they may lead.

It is generally conceded, if we judge from the
language used by authors, that there is found in
the animal kingdom, if we include man. Instinct j
Intelligence and Reason, But when we ask. Are
these distinct in kind or do they differ only in de-
gree ? Are brutes possessed of instinct alone ? Has
man instinct ? What acts are instinctive and what
are rational ? The answers that come to us show
that the best thinkers can seldom agree. In the
majority of cases they differ not only in their state-
ments, but when those statements are stripped of
all possible ambiguity, it is found that there is a
real difference in belief.

It is in vain for us to attempt to bring order out

Introductory. 35

of this chaos by definitions or by any mere accura-
cy of statement. Accuracy in language is impossi-
ble while the thought is confused. And defini-
tions, if they do not correspond to the thing de-
fined, are a constant source of mischief The mind,
satisfied with its definition, accepts that, and too of-
ten ignores the facts that ought to correct the defi-
nition, or misinterprets them to bring them into
unison with some favorite system or theory.

Is it possible then to treat of Instinct without
being misled by the word ? — without being bound
by some old definition that shall threaten us with
destruction when we pass its limits, as the soldier is
liable to be shot when he passes beyond the dead-
line of his prison grounds ? We will make the
attempt. If we use any definition of Instinct, we
will do it only for convenience, as we have inti-
mated, holding ourselves free to search for facts
and to give them an honest interpretation, even
if they force upon us a new definition at every lec-
ture.

Guizot has well remarked, when defining the
word civilization, that it is the popular meaning of
this word that we must investigate ; and then adds,
that the common meaning of a word is much more
correct than the scientific meaning which has been
given by a few persons under the influence of a par-
ticular fact that has taken possession of the imagi-
nation. The same is true, undoubtedly, of the word
Instinct. It is the popular use of the word that
must for the present serve our purpose as a name
for certain phenomena as a whole, but it is Instinct

30 ■ Instijict,

as 2. fact, as revealed by these phenomena, that we
must investigate.

It is our work then to inquire what animals do
as sentient beings, as voluntary beings, as manifest-
ing sensation, choice, volition, contrivance and mem-
ory,— to inquire how far an animal ever improves
by experience, — in a word, to inquire what are the
kinds of acts that animals perform and what are
the conditions under which they perform them.
Then we are to inquire what kinds of acts man per-
forms and the conditions under which he performs
them. When these two series of observations are
placed side by side and a comparison is made be-
tween them, we shall have the best conditions pos-
sible for deciding what are the characteristics com-
mon to both man and the lower animals, and the
means of detecting any power or faculty which
either possesses as his peculiar distinction. From
such an examination much might be hoped for, in
rendering the lower animals more subservient to
us and in securing to them proper usage ; but its
special use will be to give us a fuller knowledge of
our own capacities and powers than could ever be
learned from consciousness, or any study of man
alone.

No attempt will be made to gather the wonders
of Instinct, many of the accounts of which were in-
vented or embellished for. entertaining story-books ;
but the best known examples of instinctive action
will be taken, such as can in most cases be easily
observed in any part of the world, simply to show
what Instinct is in its varied manifestations, — as a

hitrodiictory. 37

foundation for the comparison which we wish to In-
stitute between man and the lower animals.

If we mistake not, we shall find Instinct to be
one of the great provisions which make the present
condition of the world possible — an absolute neces-
sity in animal life. It is one method of carrying
out a plan, or if one objects to this phrase, it is one
part of a great system which we find in operation
around us. This system is a unity in its operations
— so far a unity that we detect the same method
in all its parts — in parts even the most remote.
That we may see the relation of instinctive acts to
other operations in nature and the use of Instinct
itself, we shall trace the analogies of Instinct when-
ever we can find them. Our scheme then will em-
brace the consideration of the following topics, —

1. The operations in inorganic nature foreshad-
owing histinct.

2. The operations in plant life simulati7ig In-
stinct,

3 . The operations in animal Physiology simulating
Instinct.

4. Lowest forms of histinct for the welfare of the
individual, supplementing physiology or function of
organs.

•5. The higher forms of histinct for the welfare
of the individual animal ; as knowing its enemies with-
out experience.

6. The relation of Instinct to special structure,

7. histinct as necessary for communities of ani-
mals.

8. Development of Instinct by parental relation

38 Instinct.

prompting the parent to provide for or to defend its
young.

g. Instincts of yoimg animals to brhig them into
proper relations to their parents and the world. Also
the peculiar iiistinct of one stage of being as prepara-
tory to anotJier i7i wJiich that instinct is eiitirely lost,
— as in the case of viany insects.

10. Instiiict of animals demanding certain cha^iges
in other animals or plants for the completion of its
work.

11. Variation of instinct in domestic animals and
its relation to man as viaking such animals useful.

12. Instinct as a law for the animal but subject
to organic or functional changes in the systent. Cir-
cumsta?tces under which instinct may be deceived.

13. Higher character of animals. Do they think
and reason ? Have they intelligence as a guiding
principle or subordinated to histinct ?

14. Instinct in man growing out of his appetites
— wholly animal.

1 5 . Instiyict in its relation to the desires^ — the ba-
sis of the social nature.

16. The nature of instinctive and intuitive
knowledge.

17. Moral instincts. The distinction between
men and animals and the directing power in both.

18. Relation of instinct to prayer y fait Ji and im-
mortality.

19. Relation of the subject to education, govern-
ment and social reform.

While this scheme gives the outline of thought
to be presented it does not in all cases show the

IntrodiLctory. 39

exact order in which the topics will be discussed.
As the same phenomena appear in different depart-
ments of nature the same topics will appear in the
discussion whenever the subject in hand aids in
their illustration or needs them for its own. In
such a field there is scope for the most thorough
research and analysis. If we can but call more
careful attention to these departments of study we
may hope for much advantage to speculative sci-
ence and practical life.

LECTURE II.

OPERATIONS IN INORGANIC NATURE AND PLANT
LIFE THAT SIMULATE INSTINCT.

Definitions of Paley, Whately and Hamilton considered. — The office
of the Physical Forces. — Life, Sensation, Volition. — Method of
discussion explained. — Positivism. — Instinct part of a series of
agencies. — Life depending upon the position of the earth and the
changes within it. — Geologic changes. — Activities of the plant. —
Instinct-like provisions of plants. — Community of action. — Special
provision of the tree for itself. — Special structures and functions. —
Provision ?nade by plants for their young.

In our last lecture we gave three definitions of In-
stinct from writers of acknowledged authority, —
Paley, Whately and Hamilton.

Definitions might be multiplied, but those are as
well fitted as any, for provisional use. Let us see
exactly what they affirm. Paley says there is a
propensity prior to experieiice and independeyit of in-
struction. From this we infer, that the propensity
is to do something which might by some beings be
learned from experience or that might be learned
by them from another, by instruction. But we are
not told whether the being that acts instinctively

Whately's Definition. 41

has any power of gaining knowledge by experience
or from instruction, or whether it has any compre-
hension of the work which it performs. In fact the
definition, instead of settling any thing, is simply
a dogmatic assertion from which questions branch
off in all directions. And many of our best natu*
ralists would begin by denying the assertion alto-
gether.

Whately says, Instinct is a tendency to some
mode of action^ and since he says it is a blind ten-
dency— we suppose he argues that the tendency
comes without experience or instruction. But he
adds this important element to Paley's definition,
that this tendency is independent of any consideration
on the part of the agent of the end to which the action
leads. Here then we have another very sweeping
assertion, for it puts every instinctive act on a level
with the movement of water under the influence of
gravitation, or the movement of particles in the
process of crystallization. This assertion is not
made of certain instinctive acts but of all. Accord-
ing to this, whenever we decide that any act is in-
stinctive, we must also decide that the animal per-
forming it has no consideration of the end to which
the action leads, however complex the action or
wonderful the end secured.

This definition standing by itself without expla-
nations would give rise to as much controversy as
that of Paley ; for after two men had agreed to ac-
cept it they still might be very far from agreeing
whether a specific act was instinctive or not. After
agreeing upon the definition, perhaps the first ob-

42 Instinct.

ject seen would be a flock of birds migrating norths
One might affirm migration to be with birds an in-
stinctive act, and therefore that the birds had no
consideration of the object of their long journey,
while the other might believe that they went under
the leadership of old birds that had learned, by the
slowly accumulated experience of the species, where
the best breeding places were to be found and there-
fore that the act of migrating is removed from the
sphere of Instinct to that of Intelligence.

But both of these authors agree in this, that In-
stinct is simply a teiidency. They do not speak of
it as an existence, an entity, but as something like
a habit though not gained by the individual by re-
peated acts, as habits are. It may be well in pass-
ing to say that there are able thinkers who regard
instinct as nothing more than the fixed habits of
the species, accumulated and transmitted after be-
coming fixed by long continuance.

When we consider Hamilton's definition we have
a new element still. He says Instinct is an age^tt.
If we understand this language at all, it implies that
Instinct is an entity, something as distinct in exist-
ence as an element or as Reason, to say the least.
And we are inclined to think that this is the com-
mon notion. We have frequent attempts made to
draw the dividing line between Instinct and Rea-
son, which implies that by such writers one is con-
sidered as much a distinct agent or agency as the
other. Both terms however are often used in a
very indefinite manner. But Hamilton adds that
this agent, Instinct, /^r/<?r;;/j blindly and ignorant ly

Hamilton* s Definition. 43

a work of intelligence and knowledge. Here we have
again the assertion of entire ignorance on the part
of the actor of the end in view in every instinctive
act ; but that the work is still one of intelligence
and knowledge. We suppose this simply means
that the work performed instinctively, that is, with-
out a comprehension, by the actor, of the end aimed
at, is such as would commend itself to the judg-
ment of an intelligent and wise being as man may
become by experience and by instruction from the
experience of others. We must here anticipate our
discussion by saying that we believe there are such
acts, and that they have their place of necessity in
the great system of means by which organic beings
are kept on this globe.

If we commence with gravitation, the lowest
and most far-reaching of all the forces that modify
and control this universe, we can pass on through a
series of agencies till we reach man, who has power
of self-control and is able to comprehend the mech-
anism of the universe. And when he, through this
power of comprehension, surveys all these agencies
below him in their relation to each other, he finds
each one of them doing, in its own sphere, just what
Hamilton asserts to be the work of Instinct. That
is, in their relations to other agencies, they are do-
ing just what a wise being would approve of, be-
cause, by the combined action of all, results are
reached that commend themselves to Reason.

It is gravitation that gives form to the globe,
holds it in place and moves it as a part of a system
of worlds around the Sun. Cohesion cements the

44 Instinct,

elements together, gathers the minerals into veins,
holds the continents in place, the mountains on
their rocky thrones, and by its varying strength
gives the different forms of matter upon the globe.
Chemical affinity, with a magician's power, joins dif-
ferent elements to produce unnumbered products,
and prepare the way for life. Life itself, known
only in the development of some germ, answers to
the call of the forces below it, and then in turn
makes them its servants, till sensation is introduced.
From sensation we have a whole train of reflex ac-
tions and the craving of the appetites that tend to
preserve the organism but are involuntary in their
action. Then one step higher we have acts which
arise from spontaneous impulse, that are always de-
pendent upon volition, and involve skill and adapta-
tion of means to ends, but are apparently performed
without any comprehension of the end, by the
actor. One step higher still we have acts that
originate from some spontaneous impulse but are
plainly modified by some consideration of the end
or some comprehension of the results. All of these
classes of acts man can see below him. And these
three classes of acts have been strangely mingled
together in treating of Instinct. It is not strange
therefore that there have been disagreement and
confusion.

Most authors have started with some definition
of Instinct like those given, and then have joined
with it the assertion that the lower animals have
no Intelligence. It is no wonder that they have
found difficulty in drawing the dividing line be-

TJie Earth. 45

tween instinctive and rational acts, even using the
word rational in its lowest sense.

All the agencies from gravitation to Instinct, as
thus far defined, are parts of one plan, and they all
do the work of Intelligence as much as Instinct it-
self; that is, a work that in the end is approved by
man — the highest Intelligence on the globe.

That we may see that Instinct is nothing pecu-
liar as to its method of action, we shall briefly trace
the action of the agencies below it that are condi-
tional for its work. And we therefore invite your
attention to a brief examination of the first two
topics of the program presented at the close of our
last lecture.

TJie operations in inorganic nature and plant life
that simulate histijict.

It was the notion of some formerly that the
earth was a living thing. The balmy breezes and
the storms, the ceaseless tides that mark the chang-
ing level of the oceans, and the earthquakes rending
the solid ground, were all the living movements of
this huge Behemoth, the earth. This poetic notion
has no place in the prosaic, scientific beliefs of the
present day ; though there was such a semblance
of truth as its foundation, that much of its lan-
guage and something of its impression still remains
even with the most cultivated. In figurative lan-
guage we speak of the earth as our mother, and
there is significance in the language as we come
from her bosom, enjoy the boundless provision
which she has made for our wants, and then are
gathered to her peaceful rest. But it is only in po-

46 ^nstinct,

etic language and by that power of association that
makes a tree, a brook or the old farm-house dear to
us as a friend, that we can speak of the earth as other
than a clod. Through all this mechanism and the
forces by which man is formed of the dust of the
earth and his wants provided for, we may recognize
the power, wisdom and skill of a Personal Being.
We may do the same in the manifestations of ac-
knowledged Instinct in animals and the affections in
man ; since they all form parts of a system and of such
a system as the wisdom of man approves of —
such as he cannot refer to chance nor to this clod
of earth, with all its elements and forces. But all
such questions as to chance, design, personality and
its attributes manifested through the works of na-
ture, belong to Natural Theology, with which we
have nothing now to do.

For our present discussion we inquire simply for
manifestations; and we do not propose to trace
those manifestations farther than to the agent or
being in which they appear. Our first question in
every case will be. What is f not, How came it so ?
How is the earth, the plant, the animal and man
constituted ? Not, How came they to be so con-
stituted?

For the purposes of our present inquiry we may
believe that all things began to exist a century ago,
or that they have existed for an indefinite cycle of
ages. Questions of origin are proper subjects of
investigation, but they have only an incidental bear-
ing upon our present discussion. Such questions
may arise in the progress of our investigations, but

Positive Philosophy. 47

we shall not seek for them nor feel bound to attempt
their answer.

Shall we then free ourselves of all preconceived
notions of creation — of development, of Theology- —
of how things oitgJit to be — or, at least, leave them
for future discussion and apply ourselves to the task
of learning what is — in the department of nature
which we propose to investigate ? If we can do this,
we shall gain for ourselves all the good which Pos-
itive Philosophy has ever had to offer as a guide in
science, without committing ourselves to its dog-
mas. And this much should be said in favor of
Positivism, that its method is the only true one for
approaching every natural science. Whether the
human mind can stop, or ought to attempt to stop,
within the limits which Positive Philosophy pre-
scribes for it, is a very different question.

Will you allow me then, for convenience of lan-
guage, to speak of the earth with all its elements,
the stars and planets, as all acting by a power of
their own to produce the varied results that are
naturally ascribed to them ? But these results as-
cribed to them are meaningless to us unless they
have some knoAvn connection with an end. And
an end or purpose either by itself or as part of a se-
ries of purposes, is always apprehended by us as
having relation to sentient beings.

We recognize then in the operations of inorgan-
ic nature certain provisions for organized beings-
beings that can grow, flourish, languish and die.
The full provision consists of a mutual adaptation
of the being and the world to each other. It is a

48 histhict,

maxim accepted almost without a dissenting voice,
that animals provide for themselves by Instinct.
Instinct seems to be regarded as something that
has power to lay the world under contribution for
its possessor's good. It has been considered quite
too much by itself, rather than as a part only of
that complicated series of adjustments by which liv-
ing beings are kept upon the globe. How small a
part it plays among the lower animals, and the rank
of its work, will be best understood by understand-
ing the whole machinery of which it is only one
wheel — a part essential to the range of animal life
upon the globe, but still utterly valueless were there
not a more complicated machinery or more com-
plicated parts of the same machine in constant op-
eration. Instinct alone would be like the loom of
the cotton-mill with no card or spinning-frame to
prepare material for its work. It is in the inorgan-
ic world, in the vegetable kingdom and in the anat-
omy and physiology of the animal system that we
find the supplementary parts of that nicely-adjusted
machine which we call Nature.

The earth is clothed with plants, the rivers, lakes
and oceans have their share of vegetable life. And
rising higher still on the land and swarming in the
waters, are the varied forms of the animal kingdom.
We speak of animals as adapting themselves to the
world by Instinct, and of the plants as finding their
places by some law of distribution. All this is true.
But the immediate agencies that attract our atten-
tion in both cases are only a part, and a small part,

Conditions of Life, 49

of the agencies that secure the result. How futile
would be the keenest Instinct of animals, and how
useless all the machinery in the vegetable kingdom
for the distribution of plants, if the earth itself were
not a preserver of both animals and plants by the
balance of its forces and the ready yielding of its
elements for their protection and support !

We cannot tell what compensations there may
be on other planets to make such life as our earth has
possible on them, or what forms of life may be fitted
to flourish under their physical conditions ; but the
constitution of our earth we can understand, and
the capabilities of all living forms both of plants
and animals we are able to gauge. If we cannot
mark the exact power of endurance of each kind,
we can set a limit of cold and heat beyond which
no living thing could exist. A nearness to the sun
that should give us a temperature of three hundred
degrees in every portion of the globe would render
the existence of every known form of life now upon
our earth impossible. A temperature of zero con-
tinued for ages would bring all oceans to solid ice,
and in the end make the earth a barren waste.

Let the earth then wander from her path and
approach the sun until she circles far within the or-
bit of Mercury, or let her forget the centripetal
force and extend her path to the outer verge of the
solar system ; in one case she would become a blaz-
ing ball until wrapped in the terrible mantle of
oceans changed to steam ; in the other, earth and
water would be changed to solid stone and the sum-
mer's cold would exceed the deadly breath of arctic

50 Instinct,

winter in the depth of its polar night. How pow-
erless every form of life would be under such chang-
es ! The adaptation of the plant, the Instinct of
the animal, the forethought, the wisdom and science
of man would be without avail, and all forms of life
would as surely perish as the nestlings of the bird
or the tender infant would perish without a parent's
care.

The young bird just raises its head and opens
its bill to be fed. Without the responsive care of
the mother it must die. Little more than this act
of the young bird, in the series of acts necessary for
its support, is the act of the most cunning Instinct
or of human wisdom itself compared with all the la-
bors of mother earth to supplement their acts in
sustaining life or securing enjoyment. The earth
completes her circuit round the sun and gives each
year the conditions of some form of life from pole
to pole. She supplements, on a grand scale, the
structure, function and Instinct of all the tribes that
dwell upon her. No matter now how all these ad-
justments were secured. Structure and function
and Instinct are adapted to the conditions of the
globe, and all of these together secure or make pos-
sible the forms of life that now exist. And what a
multitude of conditions must combine in the struct-
ure and movements of the earth itself to foster the
wealth of life which she lovingly bears on her bos-
om ! In the summer months she cares for the
northern zone. She wakes to life the sleeping
germs, the waiting buds and bulbs, by lengthening
the day and wooing the vertical sun as the mother

Provisions for Life, 5 1

bird with patient watching warms to life the tgg
within the nest. But when the sun has quickened
life, the office of the earth has but just begun, as
the work of the mother bird begins in earnest when
the hungry brood call for food.

The quickening of the thousand forms of life,
from bud and root and seed seems the signal to the
earth for renewed activities on every side to supply
them with the means of growth. In the soil she sets
to work a laboratory so wonderful that all the science
of the world cannot equal the perfections of its
operations. She there combines the gases, gives
up the richness of her rocks and forms the food on
which plants can alone exist. Then through the
thousand pores she draws the food in contact with
the rootlets that are eager to drink it in. In the
air she brings to every leaf a supply for its thou-
sand hungry mouths. At night she distills the re-
freshing dew, and anon she brings up the thick wa-
ter cloud that, descending in the rain, gives verdure
to the field and forest and springs among the hilfe.
Who can contemplate the machinery by which life
is sustained for a single summer and not be struck
with the wonderful provisions in inorganic nature,
a single one of which failing no adjusting power of
animals or plants could save them? That chemis-
try of soils and air, — that mechanism of attraction, —
that machinery of evaporation and transportation
and condensation must all be kept in constant oper-
ation to secure this one result, the perpetuation of
life on the globe. And how wonderfully alike is
the sum of all these agencies from year to year !

52 Instinct,

The winds blow when and where they list — the
days of wet and drought and heat and cold no one
can foretell. But at the end of the year, the result
of all these operations is found to be near the re-
sult for all other years — to come so near to the or-
dinary range of climatic change that it may with
truth be said that seed-time and harvest never fail.
Nor is the earth's work finished when this com-
plicated machinery within her soil and atmosphere
has covered the fields and forests with their yearly
fruits. When the plants have provided for them-
selves in ways which we shall describe, through this
agency of the earth, she, like a careful mother, pro-
vides for their winter's sleep. In northern climes
the water takes the feathery form of snow, and like a
covering of down protects the tender plants and roots
so that many forms are preserved that but for this
protection would be destroyed or confined to more
southern lands. While northern Hfe is sleeping,
the same forces that once acted upon it are provid-
ing for the southern zones. If we go back to geo-
logic ages the lesson is the same. The provision
was the same in kind as now appears, but each geo-
logic age was itself a provision for those that were
to follow — and all of them were preparatory for the
present. While the earth supplied the wants of
the tribes that held possession of her, in each of her
unmeasured eras, she was providing as by a demi-
urgic Instinct for the present generations. No
matter now what were the forces employed, no
matter whether all this work is the wild sport of
chance or the ordaining of Infinite Wisdom. In

Geologic Change. 53

either case the result is plain, and such a one that
all must admit that the structure of the earth and
all its surroundings justify themselves to reason as
a fit provision for such a being as man is. As he
progresses in knowledge he not only does better for
himself, but he discovers new adaptations of this
physical universe to his wants. Every fracture of
the rocks, every folding stratum, every vein of met-
al, every mineral deposit and every step by which
oceans were bounded, mountain chains thrown
up, water sheds determined, river channels cut and
springs planted among the hills, all these labors
of the earth, seem to have been as truly for her
children — for every living thing — as the instinctive
work of animals is for their young which they pro-
vide for, though perchance are never to see.

Thus far we have spoken of the earth as though
caring for organic beings as the mother cares for
her children. In all the changes of the earth there
have been results that simulate the work of Instinct,
and simulate it so closely that many changes in the
inorganic world supplement the operations of life,
as though the Physical Forces, Physiological Forces
and Instinct took counsel together in caring for
every living thing, and each took up the task at an
appointed time. One responds to the other, and so
completely do they do this that it is difficult in all
cases to say which we should most admire in the
parts they play in carrying on the work. As the
young of the animal responds to the parent's In-
stinct to secure its aid, so do the various tribes of
plants respond to inorganic nature.

54 Instinct,

In the changes of the inorganic world we recog
nize no care for itself. There is nothing in itself to
be cared for. We see no purpose except in connec-
tion with life or in relation to it. And however
vague our notion of Instinct may be, we always rec-
ognize in it some purpose, and that purpose as hav-
ing relation to life. We may then readily recog-
nize operations in inorganic nature having reference
to plants, their preservation or growth, while there
is no possibility of recognizing such care in the
globe itself for its own sake or for the sake of any
of its parts. We do not see how Infinite Wisdom
even could devise any thing for the good of inor-
ganic nature or any part of it. The conditions of
receiving good are found only in living beings.

But in the plant, a living being, we may recog-
nize a provision for itself, because in it is a life to be
preserved, and certain conditions are to be secured
for the best manifestation of that life. The plant
also may have relations to the animal kingdom,
making for it, or some portion of it, instinct-like pro-
visions, as inorganic nature has made for the plant.

We have here also in the plant an entirely new
field of activities — those growing out of real paren-
tal relation. The tree has not only to provide for
itself but for the thousand young plantlets set free
in its seeds, each one fitted to become a new centre
of life and representative of the species. We have
then in the plant all those activities that secure in
the vegetable kingdom the same ends which in the
animal kingdom are usually secured by Instinct —
care of the individual and the production and care

Adaptation of Plants. 55

of young for the preservation of the species. Fof
convenience in illustrating these activities we shall
speak of the plant as sentient.

The curious processes by which every species
adapts itself to the world may be structural or func-
tional ; but a plan is so readily recognized and the
results are reached by such complicated operations,
all moving harmoniously together, that every ob-
server must be struck with the close imitation of
voluntary action — of instinctive foresight and skill
in adapting means to ends. We have this apparent
foresight and skill manifested to some extent in al-
most every plant that clothes the earth, and almost
every species has manifestations of contrivance pe-
culiar to itself.

The study of the instinct-like provisions in the
growth of plants and bodies of animals will prepare
us to understand that acknowledged Instinct, in its
lowest forms, simply carries the work of life one
step farther through volition, than mere structure
and function could possibly do.

The best known trees — the oak or apple — will af-
ford ample illustration of provisions for themselves
and young that simulate the work of Instinct.

The oak, that must brave the storms for centu-
ries, sends out its thickened roots swelling high
from the trunk, like buttresses to a castle wall, but
firmer in position and better balanced than any
ever fashioned by the wisest architect. The Eddy-
stone light-house, that defies the power of the sea,
was fashioned by its great builder, Smeaton, from
the study of the oak. Well may this tree be taken

$6 Instinct,

as the symbol of strength. Every limb is banded
with swollen rings of gnarled and knotted fibre.
The work is done for centuries, and every year adds
new supports to meet the increasing weight from
growth. But this work is all varied as the exi-
gencies of the case demand. The oak upon the
hill-side, exposed to every wind, builds its base
broader, springs every buttress deeper, and strength-
ens most the side that must bear the constant at-
tack. All this is the law of its growth, says one.
Certainly it is, but that law of growth provides, like
the law of Instinct, for the preservation of the indi-
vidual according to the conditions which are to be
met. There is in the organism a certain amount of
flexibility, enabling it to meet the varying condi-
tions, and an actual change according to the condi-
tions, as certain and complete within certain limits
as though sensation and volition were agencies in
the work.

Every tree is a community of individuals, and
the trunk is the common work of all the buds and for
their use, as the coral dome is for the coral polyps, or
the hornet's nest is for the community of hornets.
The coral dome is the product of growth and the
nest is the work of Instinct ; but they both have
the same relation to a community, they are the
joint product and the joint property of all the indi-
viduals that labored or were concerned directly or
indirectly in their production. As the coral polyp,
each working for itself, aids by the law of its growth
to build up a structure for the benefit of the whole
colony, so do the oak buds by the law of their

Instinct-like Work. 57

growth build up the trunk and all the machinery
of the roots for the benefit of the thousands of in-
dividual plants or buds that make a full grown
tree. In the same way, but under the impulse and
guidance of Instinct, do social animals, like the hor-
net and beaver, build nests and dams for the com-
mon good.

Since the tree is fixed to one place and yet must
feed mainly upon the products of the soil, it pro-
vides for itself anew every year organs for feeding,
by increasing its surface of root by the formation
of fibrils that penetrate the soil in all directions.
The food of the tree consists of the salts and gases
in solution. As these substances are carried down
by abundant surface rains, or drawn up by capilla-
ry attraction, they cannot escape the eager rootlets
that sweep the soil in all directions by their fixed
net-work, as completely as the coral polyp and oth-
er forms of animals sweep the waters with their ten-
tacles.

In the spring time also the tree puts out its
wealth of leaves to gather additional food from the
air. And what ample provision is made for carry-
ing on this work ! What apparent forethought and
wisdom do we here find in the economy of the tree !
The leaf not only gathers crude materials from the
air, but it is the laboratory in which all materials
taken from both earth and air are elaborated and
fitted for building up the tree in all its parts. The
material that forms the leaf must itself be first elab-
orated. How shall the tree without leaves clothe
itself with its acres of foliage ? It does this by a fore-

58 Instinct,

sight which closely imitates the higher provisions
made by Instinct. Near the close of each season
there is elaborated by every tree food that is not
then used but stored up in its tissues for a day of
need. That time of need is the next spring, when
the new generation of leaves suddenly appears, un-
folding as garlands of beauty upon every tree and
shrub, but having in addition to their beauty of
form and color for adorning the earth, the more im-
portant office of building up the tree and preparing
for flowers and fruit that without the leaf would
wither and fall for want of food. Now it is, as a
first step in the work of the new year, that the ma-
terial prepared beforehand by the tree and* safely
kept in its tissues during the winter months, is
called into requisition for leaf-making. In vain
would the spring sunshine and showers soften the
sward and stimulate the buds, and quicken the
roots to gather materials from the soil — the tree
would die in the midst of plenty and with every
outward condition i-n favor of its life, had it not
wisely stored up material already elaborated for the
making of leaves. When they are once unfolded,
the earth and air are both laid under continued con-
tribution to furnish all the products of the year.
And when the layer of woody fibre has been added
to the tree, the fruits brought to their perfection
and the buds set and sealed with cunning workman-
ship, the tree lays by a store of food for the growth
of those buds which are to enliven another year, as
certainly as the instinct-guided animal ever made
provision for its young.

Apparent ForcthoiigJit. 59

This apparent forethought in preparing materi-
als and storing them for a time of need, is not man-
ifested by the trees alone, but in a greater or less de-
gree it is exercised by every plant that grows —
most manifest is it in those that live more than a
single year.

What wonders are performed beneath our very
feet ! If we could look beneath the thick woven
sward of the meadows, or roll back the decaying
leaves of the forest, or pluck up the thickened root-
stocks of the water lily and kindred forms from their
oozy beds beneath the shallow lakes, we should find
in every place evidence of instinct-like forethought
among the plants and provision for their future
wants.

When the frost of autumn and ice of winter
have covered the earth with death, so that to the
eye there seems to be but mere remnants of wither-
ed grass and herbage, we still wait in confident ex-
pectation that spring will wake new forms to sud-
den life from hidden germs, as by enchantment. In
roots of grass and bulb of lily, in all the thousand
store-houses beneath the soil, the busy, prudent
plants have laid up their provisions ready for instant
use — not to preserve life in winter — but for their
spring's work in bringing sudden beauty of leaf and
flower upon the earth, when wakened to activity
from their winter's sleep. They answer to the call
of the great magician, the sun, whose touch dis-
solves as by enchantment the flinty soil and palsy-
ing power of winter ; and now with eager haste they
utilize the stores of food which they carefully re-
served the year before, when they seemed to be liv-

6o Instinct.

ine to the extent of their means. There is no such
foolish extravagance, in the plant economy, as liv-
ing to the full extent of income each year, except
when the time has come for the plants to pass away
and then with true parental Instinct they bequeath
all they possess to their children ; which bequest is
always found to be just enough to start the young
plantlets well in life, till large enough to work and
gather materials for themselves. All the wealth of
beauty in early spring — the green blade of grass —
the fragrant Arbutus of the hill-side and the golden
Caltha by the brook, — these all are the products of
plant labor of the former year.

These slow, secret processes are hid from the eye
of the most careful observer, and they would never
be known were it not for the sudden display of leaf
and flower in spring time, that reveals the secret of
this hoarded wealth.

But there are other processes by which the plant
provides for its growth and seemingly for its enjoy-
ment and rest, as though it were a sentient being.
The Sun-flower turns its broad disk towards the sun
that its hundreds of flowers packed in one head may
bask in his light. A multitude of smaller flowers
that fail to attract the attention of common observ-
ers, are silent worshippers of the sun, or turn fondly
towards his life giving rays. And not the flowers
alone but leaf and stalk bend from the darkness to-
wards the light which can alone give the conditions
of life and growth. The power that turns them is
no mere enlargement of cells nor change of structure
as we are sometimes told, but the movement is as
inscrutible as the folding; of the leaf of the sensitive

Fly-trap — Sim-dew. 6 1

plant, or the sleep of the water lily when she folds
her petals of ivory and gold, to gather new beauty
and richer perfume for the morrow.

There are among plants other operations whose
purpose we may not be able to solve satisfactorily,
while the acts or operations have all the character-
istics of instinctive contrivance. What shall we say
of the Catch-flies that at every joint pour out their
sticky fluid that holds all the smaller insects as bird-
lime spread by the fowler's art, holds birds upon the
branch ? There is also the Venus's fly-trap of our
southern states, that has a portion of its leaves fash-
ioned specially for its work — the barbs all set for
holding their prey — the bait poured out by the trap
itself to allure the unsuspecting fly within the cruel
jaws that close all the tighter for the victim's strug-
gles.^ Its near relation is that gem among the flow-
ers, the Sun-dew of our bogs. There is no more
beautiful object to a Botanist's eye than this Drose-
ra rotuiidifolia, that puts a garniture of ruby points
upon every leaf and has every point tipped with a
glittering diamond. In the sunlight it is like some
precious jewel. But all this display is death for the
unwary insects attracted by this tempting feast.
For every diamond point is simply treacherous glue
and is to the insect like the mire and quicksand to
the higher animals. Every struggle makes his case
more hopeless, and he is soon wound in a multitude
of threads drawn from those globes of clear waxy
dew that distills from the brilliant points and gives

* — ^but secretes much more to digest him ! — Prof. A. Grat.

62 Instinct,

the plant its name. When the victim is fairly en-
snared the leaf slowly encloses the body, taking
days for the operation, and all the slender points
bend towards it as though the plant were feeding
like the hawk or tiger, on its prey.

Near by this beautiful destroyer may often be
found the Pitcher -plant, Sarracenia piLrpurea, of
which it may be said, '' If the Drosera slays its
thousands, the Sarracenia slays its ten thousands."
Where can be found such a death-dealing instru-
ment? one more perfectly fitted for its work?
Each leaf forms of its blade a tube or pitcher that
becomes a horrid prison. Down deep in its cav-
erns there is a pool of death probably supplied by
the plant itself, so that the place of execution is al-
most ever ready for its victim. The expanding
portion of the leaf that serves as a portal to this
Avernus for insects, is attractive enough and offers
no resistance to the various kinds that seek the ap-
parently safe and cool retreat that always stands so
invitingly open. The sharp hairs upon its surface
all point downwards and gradually lengthen towards
the prison. But when the last row is passed there
is a steep and smooth passage to that bourne from
which so few insects ever return. For if by chance
one can drag himself up the steep plane, he is met
by those frowning palisades over which he went
down with ease, now rising high, thickly set and
pointing downward. Those who have gathered
these plants in summer and poured out from the
hollow leaves the hundreds of decomposing insects,
have seen that this machinery has done its appoint-

Sex among Plants. 63

ed work with the certainty of the most cunning
beast of prey or the most skilful devices of men.

But all the economy of the plant thus far men-
tioned probably has relation to its own welfare as
an individual. The imitations of Instinct are even
more marked in the provisions which the tree
makes for its young. In many plants this care ex-
tends not only to the maturing of the seeds but in
many cases to their distribution.

It is a remarkable fact that in the vegetable
kingdom we find the distinction of sex as well
marked as among animals — the distinction mani-
festing itself in some form almost to the lowest
types of plant life. If we begin by recognizing the
existence of a benevolent Creator, we can readily
understand the final cause of sexual distinction
among animals, when we estimate the revenue of
enjoyment to all higher sentient beings, from the
parental relation. But that the distinction of sexes
should obtain in the vegetable kingdom where sen-
sation even is unknown, can never be explained on
the theory of benevolence in the Creator, unless we
look entirely beyond plant life for the objects to be
benefited by means of this relation. Such theories
might be started in regard to this duality of struct-
ure and nature in plants of the same species or
double nature of the same plant, as would appear
plausible at least to those who are ready to grant
that every thing is wisely created for some purpose.
But it does not come within the scope of our pres-
ent subject to propose or defend any peculiar the-
ories of creation. We simply take the plant as it is

64 Instinct,

and trace the structure and function of organs by
which the young plants are matured and provided
for by their parents.

Among our common plants we shall find abun-
dant illustrations for our purpose ; and the more com-
mon the better. When the apple blossom opens
in spring, the showy petals, that delight us by their
beauty of color and sweet perfume, are but the out-
er adorning of a much more wonderful workman-
ship within the flower. In the base of that flower
even now, the outlines of seeds can be found cover-
ed in the minute ball of tissue destined in time to
become the apple. But above those seeds rise the
stamens bearing pollen and the pistils to receive the
life-giving grains of dust. Lest the work should
not be well performed there is honey poured out
by the apple blossom as well as by thousands of
other flowers, to attract the bees, that in their eager
haste to gather the sweet scatter the pollen grains
upon the stigmas and distribute them from flower
to flower. When the pistil has conducted the sub-
stance of these grains of pollen to the seed, it has
at once an independent life. It is henceforth a
new plant, and the whole energy of the tree is at
once taxed to bring that seed to perfection and se-
cure for it the conditions of independent growth.
Around the germ, or in some organs connected
with it, the tree stores up starch, sugar and other
products fitted to support the young plantlet until
large enough to gather food for itself from the earth
and air. That this provision is for the young plant,
is shown by the fact that if the germ is not fertil-

Fertilization — Distribution . 6 5

ized by pollen so as to have power of independent
growth, the seed fails to fill. This is certainty the
rule— if there are any exceptions, they are not more
common than parthenogenesis in the animal king-
dom. The necessity of fertilization to secure the
filling of the seed, is illustrated by what occurs in
many of our most useful cultivated plants, especial-
ly in the Indian corn. Every silk of the ear is con-
nected with a kernel ; and its office is to conduct the
life-giving portion of the pollen that may chance to
fall upon it to the kernel hidden in the husks be-
neath. If it does the work, we have the golden
rows well filled. But for every thread that fails, a
vacant place is found upon the ear in harvest time.
The kernel fills with food fitted for the support of
the living germ within it. And all that wealth of
food for man so abundantly produced each year—
the rich harvest of grain that gives stimulus to trade
and commerce because so essential to the daily sup-
port of animal life, is but the provision which the
plants have made for their young.

But when the seed is filled the young plantlet
is simply provided with means to start in life— its
final welfare depending upon its finding a congenial
soil. To secure this, special provision has been
made by many plants for the distribution of their
seeds. To some seeds balloons of down are fixed
by which they are lifted by the winds and scattered
broadcast over the land. Others, like those of the
Elm and Birch, have a web or circular wing— others
still have prongs with barbs that fasten upon men
and animals and thus they are distributed by un-

66 histinct.

willing agents. The Mistletoe supplies its seed with
a glue that holds it to the branch where alone its
parasitic life can be sustained. The student of
Botany is amazed at the wealth of invention mani-
fested in this machinery of plants to secure the dis-
tribution of the seeds. The plume, the barb, the
hook, the spring, the wing in countless modifica-
tions are all employed according to the needs of
the plant.

But instinct-like provisions made by plants are
not always for the benefit of themselves or their
young. Plants become protectors as well as sup-
porters, of many of the insect tribe. The Gall-fly
has but to deposit its eggs upon the leaf or branch
of the Oak, and the tree, like a careful nurse, makes
as ample provision for the young insect as is ever
made by animals under the guidance of Instinct for
their own young. The tree forms a gall or oak-ap-
ple which serves as a home and feeder for the imma-
ture insect. This provision is not made for one in-
sect alone but for many, and a like provision is made
in some form by a multitude of plants. In every
case the provision is adapted to the habits of the
insect and is always the same in kind for the same
species. What is more curious than to see the Oak
using its own resources to build a house and furnish
food for the insect cast upon its care ? The Golden-
rod and Potentilla in their swollen stems, the Wil-
low and the Spruce in their false cones oftentimes
with an insect under every scale, show in different
ways this protecting care of plants towards their
insect foes.

LECTURE III.

OPERATIONS IN PHYSIOLOGY SIMULATING IN-
STINCT ; AND THE LOWEST FORMS OF INSTINCT
FOR THE WELFARE OF THE INDIVIDUAL ANI-
MAL SUPPLEMENTING PHYSIOLOGY OR FUNC-
TION OF ORGANS.

Intelligent and Instinctive Acts. — The Tent-Moth. — Animal Phys-
iology.— Structure, Ftmction and Instinct, supplementing each
other. — Unity from system. — Specific Plans. — Servitude of
Plants. — life and its phenomena. — Evolution of the Tree. —
The animal body a Machine. — Its Evolution from the Egg. —
Variables giving rise to Species. — Alchemists. — Evolution of a
specific form, the Robin. — Growth of the bird requiring distinct-
ive Action. — The first Instinctive Act. — Selection of food-. — Re-
lation of Life to the Physical Forces. — Doctrine of Evolution. —
Higher manifestation of Instinct in securing food.

We shall not fail to acknowledge Intelligence
wherever we find it. And any act performed be-
cause an end is comprehended by the actor as de-
sirable, and because the act is comprehended as a
means to secure that end, we regard as an act of
Intelligence, whether it is performed by an animal
with two feet or four.

68 Ifistinct.

But we believe it can be shown that there are
many acts performed by sentient beings, that, as
means to ends, are the perfection of wisdom, while
there is no comprehension on the part of the actor
of the end to be reached, or of his act as a means
to secure the end. Such acts are truly instinctive
according to the substance of the definitions we
have quoted ; or better still, according to the pop-
ular meaning of the word instinctive. Take for
one single illustration, the Tent-moth, that is so in-
jurious to our apple trees. There is not one of them
alive in New England this winter month. But prob-
ably it would not be difficult to find a bunch of its
eggs glued to an apple twig. And when the young
leaves begin to expand, a brood of young caterpil-
lars will be ready to feed upon them. They will
v/ork together and spin a web or tent for their con-
venience, making it larger as they need more room.
And when their feeding days are over, they will de-
sert the web and each finding a secure place will
prepare a cocoon for transformation. All the work
of the colony goes on as regularly and with the
same certainty in its methods and results as the
growing of the leaves, or flowers, or apples upon
the tree where it is found. There is no instructor
of the young brood, for all the parent moths died
the year before. They have no chance to copy.
They have impulse and guidance, and do just what
it is best for them to do for their own good and to
continue the species. They do this without expe-
rience and without instruction, and all colonies do
exactly the same thing. These are the acts of wis-

>

Intelligence. 69

dom and Intelligence to which Hamilton refers as
being performed while the actors are as Ignorant of
the end to be accomplished as the water-wheel Is of
the machinery It sets In motion. To prepare the
way for the consideration of these truly Instinctive
acts, that display a wisdom not found In the actor
but which Is often ascribed to him simply because
the acts are voluntary, we have Introduced Inorgan-
ic nature and plant life, to show that In them we
have just such operations as are performed by ani-
mals through those acts that are truly Instinctive,
though often cited as evidence of Intelligence and
wisdom In the actors. We propose to continue
these illustrations of Instinct-like operations In plant
life and that part of animal life, where volition can
have no agency, until we reach that point where the
simplest voluntary act is introduced to carry the
work of life one step farther than it Is possible for
it to be carried by structure and function alone.
From that point we shall find the instinctive princi-
ples of action widening and producing more and
more complex results until Intelligence Is Intro-
duced ; and this Is Introduced chiefly as a means of
securing enjoyment, and to carry the being, as in
the case of man, into regions entirely above m.ere
physical life, for it is Impossible for the mere con-
tinuance of physical life to be better cared for than
it is by Instinct alone.

In our last lecture we referred especially to
those physiological changes within the plant by
which it provides for Itself to meet the change of

70 Instinct.

seasons, and secure the best condition of growth.
In all these physiological functions and adaptations
to heat and moisture, darkness and light, we saw
adaptation of means to ends such as justified itself
to the Reason of man. They all had special refer-
ence to the welfare of the individual plant. No
careful observer can fail to see adaptation in the
parts of a plant working out as specific results as
are ever seen accomplished among animals or men.
Whatever his theoretical notions of inorganic na-
ture may be, as of something formed and controlled
by physical forces working under laws of mathe-
matical exactness, or of species among organic beings
as the " survivors of the fittest " in the great strug-
gle for existence, he must recognize among plants
an adaptation of parts to produce specific results —
results necessary for the existence and well being
of the plants themselves as individuals and species.
No one pretends that there is any power of percep-
tion, any sensation or volition connected with the
plant, and yet operations are carried on by it pre-
cisely as though sensation, perception and volition
were all present.

If we now consider the animal body alone, as
far as anatomy and physiology can go, or rather
physiology — for that explains the growth — we shall
find that it involves the same kind of operations as
are in the tree, but more complicated, rapid and mar-
vellous in their results. In connection with all these
operations in the animal body there may be sensa-
tion, but perception and volition have no more to
do directly in building up the animal system than

Structure and Function. 7^

they have in arranging the fibers of the Oak or the
angle of its branches with the trunk.

We now wish especially to call attention to the
instinct-like operations of vitality in building up
individual structures— arranging all their parts and
bringing them into harmonious action.

The function of an organ is often what it is, or
rather becomes useful to the being on account of
the structure of the organ itself or of some part
connected with it. Of what use would be the func-
tion of the stomach for secreting gastric juice, were
the stomach not connected with an apparatus for
supplying it with food and also with other organs
for the distribution of the nutriment to different
parts of the body? What benefit the synovial fluid,
if there were no joint to be lubricated by it ?

We see structure and function within the ani-
mal body producing certain results for the body it-
self and for the species. In plants, and some of the
lowest forms of animals perhaps, the work is com-
pleted by these two agencies alone. But when any
being is of so high a type that structure and func-
tion alone cannot complete the work, then we find
Instinct added to act as the handmaid of these two
primitive workers, to supply materials or to give a
wider range of activities, and finally to bring enjoy-
ment to the individual through its activities. We
find Structure, Function, and Instinct in its lowest
form, all working together in the same line, appar-
ently for the same purpose, or if for different sim-
ple, subordinate purposes, to secure the same com-
plex end. The most careful study of these three

'J 2 htstinct.

agencies in every species only impresses us more
fully with the conviction, that they are the three
agencies supplementary to each other by which an-
mal life is sustained and has secured to it, its infinite
variety of expression. Nothing can well be more
unlike than the species that make up the great
branches of the animal kingdom. But structure,
function and instinct are as perfectly adapted to
secure the welfare of individuals belonging to one
branch as to another. We may also consider a
more complex plan of which these three agencies
are but one part. For when we consider the struc-
ture, forces and operations of the inorganic world,
the structure and function of plants as a whole and
the relation of their parts to each other, — the struc-
ture, functions, instincts and relations of animals,
the plan or system seems to be the same in kind as
we see in a single individual or species, but more
far-reaching still, embracing as it does the three
kingdoms of nature as though they formed an or-
ganized whole. But the oneness never impresses
us as arising from any likeness of the things among
themselves but from the peculiar relationship of the
most diverse things to constitute one system, that
brings the idea of unity necessarily to every mind
that comprehends its parts, relations and opera-
tions. Within this one comprehensive plan, by
which all beings seem to be related for their mutual
good, we may consider the various subordinate
plans for specific purposes. These impress us more
strongly perhaps because they are specific, especial-
ly if they are so different from the general plan as

special contrivances, 73

to be unexpected, as the oil gland in the fowl ; or
if the obvious relation is between two objects hav-
ing no organic relationship, as the reciprocal effect
of animals and plants upon the atmosphere for the
mutual benefit of each, or the peculiar structure of
many flowers in their relation to the structure of
the bee that is to fertilize them. What contrivance
of Instinct or Wisdom ever impressed one more
than the structure and function of so many Orchid
flowers as shown by Darwin, by which the parts are
as accurately fitted to the head of the bee as are
the parts of a complicated lock to its key ? Or who
would expect that a plant should have a structure
or function, or both combined, for destroying in-
sects? We find these two elements combined in
different ways, but each method of operation is as
complete for the purpose as any work of Instinct.
We are more impressed perhaps, by these specific
arrangements for some purpose that has no obvious
relation to the good of the being in which it is
found. We are not only impressed with the idea
of contrivance, but of servitude when we see plants
making special provision for their insect foes, pro-
viding them at their own expense, with food and
shelter.

We cannot help remarking, in passing, that such
provisions are an injury to the species in which they
occur ; and therefore so far as these provisions are
concerned, such species exist not through Natural
Selection, but in spite of it.

When treating of plants In the last lecture, we
spoke of the instinct-like provisions in them as man-
4

74 Instinct,

ifested mainly In their outward organs, or in the
function of the mature organ. But a Hke control-
ling power is manifested in building up every part
of the plant, so as to form a complete whole, of com-
plex parts. And of this power we propose now to
speak. In the living plant or animal, even of the
lowest type, we seem to have an immaterial entity
— an essence to which we refer the peculiar charac-
teristics of these organic beings. In the mineral
kingdom we find the force of cohesion giving us dif-
ferent forms of crystals from different elements or
compounds ; but here in the organic kingdom we
have life, a something which we hardly dare to de-
fine, in these days of the conservation and unifica-
tion of forces — but it is a something that from es-
sentially the same elements, gives us the myriad
forms of plants and animals, from the humblest
Algae to man himself. If we cannot fully under-
stand and define this agency, we can enumerate
some of its results. It is from the careful study of
these alone that we can hope for more knowledge
of the agency itself. We now see this agency mani-
fested in the production of distinct forms or kinds of
beings. For each kind there is also a plan of struct-
ure common to all individuals of that kind. Each in-
dividual produced by this principle has a cycle of op-
erations that brings the being to individual perfection ,
then to weakness, then to death, followed by the de-
struction of the body by chemical ageyicies. Before
death comes in regular order of nature by the comple-
tion of the cycle of changes, there is some relationship
of that being to the origin of anotJier of the same ki^id

Life as a Builder. 75

to continue after the first has passed azvay. This
power then builds up the individual, and from that
individual originates another, and so on, giving us
the parental relation. In every vegetable and ani-
mal this power presides, giving rise to certain activ-
ities, which we sometimes call life — or better per-
haps, we regard the activities as the evidence that
the principle of Hfe is there, and we do this neces-
sarily from our notion of causality. That we do not
regard this agency as always active when it is pres-
ent, is evident in our experiments in the sprouting
of seeds. We apply certain conditions to call this
agency Into action, and not to create the agency it-
self. The agency once inactive in the germ, under
certain conditions, is called into activity and gives a
specific result — or rather a long train of results
which, from observation on other germs of the same
kind, can be predicted beforehand. This train of
results consists in building up by evolution, a com-
plicated structure from a single cell of simple struct-
ure ; in watching over that structure to secure its
welfare by adapting its parts and operations to the
world, in the same manner as the more general
forces of the universe seem to have arranged and
prepared the materials of the earth for the intro-
duction of the living principle itself. We can sum
up by saying that this force or principle is so far
uniform in its operations as to give us the simplest
notion of life, which all have, although they may
not be able to define it. And this principle that
impresses us as 07ie^ under the name of life, mani-
fests itself under hundreds of thousands of the most

7^ Instinct,

diverse forms of matter composed of the same ele-
ments, and takes for its cycle of operations a single
day as in the lower algae, or centuries, as in some
of the higher animals. If asked now for the origin
of this principle, or of its relationship to the great
forces of nature, we are at present, as utterly at a
loss to account for them as we are to account for
gravitation itself or for the law of its action. We
can neither deduce this principle from the analysis,
nor synthesis of the forces of the inorganic world.
We see that they are conditions for its activity, but
this no more shows that it is a modification of them
than it follows that because water is the condition
of the life of the fish, the fish is therefore a mod-
ification of that element. It is a characteristic
of this principle in all its manifestations to demand
and use as a means of putting forth its activities,
the different elements and forces of the inorganic
world. If asked for the origin of organized beings
we come back in all our investigations where we
want something given to begin the work with ; as
much so, as we need in Geometry axioms that can-
not be demonstrated. When Mr. Huxley has car-
ried us back to PROTOPLASM, we feel that we are as
far off from the goal as ever ; and although some
men stand franticly pointing into the dark, declar-
ing that the chasm between vitality and physical
force has been bridged over, we refuse to budge an
inch till we see the bridge, and much prefer to be
shouted at and even pounded as stubborn, than to
follow a logic that does violence to every principle of
sound reasoning, both in its assumed data and in its

Life as a Btdlder. 'J'J

conclusions. And in passing, it is well to remark
that there are many points decided authoritatively
by scientific men, that common men can judge of
as well as they. Because one man knows more of
fossil reptiles than another, it does not follow that the
latter must accept all the conclusions of the former
on every subject. If one does not understand fos-
sil turtles, he may be able to understand a fair argu-
ment and to detect bad logic. It has more than
once happened that very able and learned compar-
ative anatomists have fancied that they have found
the head, of an animal where nature placed his tail.
But this entire misconception in regard to the
structure of an animal, is nothing compared to the
arguments that are often accepted because present-
ed by able men, — arguments in which every prin-
ciple of sound reasoning is reversed, and impassable
chasms are bridged over with assertions.

Dismissing for the present further speculations
as to the origin and nature of life, since they are
only incidental, we will confine ourselves to its phe-
nomena, and especially, for the present, to those
phenomena that, like the operations of Instinct, in-
dicate a plan in building up a structure and keeping
it in repair, as well as skill in executing the plan.
We confine ourselves now to what takes place with-
in the organism by evolution. And we shall find a
seeming contrivance and skill shown in the selection
and arranging of the materials so that the structure
produced indicates a purpose in its several parts
and as a whole, and the harmony of the whole is
heightened by the function of each part being in

78 histinct.

accordance with the plan. The perception of this
plan is a necessary result when certain relations of
the parts are perceived.

Let us now briefly examine the structure of a
tree as produced by evolution from the seed. The
origin of every tree, as is agreed by all Botanists, is
a single cell ; or if you prefer to start one step
above, it is from a germ, with power of independent
life,from the union of cells or their contents. From
that minute point starts the Oak with all its compli-
cated and orderly distribution of material. One who
has taken the acorn from the parent tree, knows be-
forehand into just what form the soil around the
acorn and the gases in the air will be moulded under
the guiding power of the germ which he plants. He
knows beforehand what will be the mathematical
relation of the leaves to each other, the form and
flavor of the acorns which the tree will produce, and
he knows that all these parts will be taken from the
same soil and air that close at hand are furnishing
the materials for a beech, a maple and a pine, per-
chance.

How inscrutable it is that one portion of that
Oak should seek the darkness, plunging down and
spreading in every direction where the light cannot
come, while another portion as persistently pushes
into the sun-light ! But after we understand the
plan of the tree, we understand that this polarity is
necessary for its well being. The presiding power
or organizing force had taken care that all parts
should be disposed aright to carry out the plan.

How strange, also, that from the subdivision of

Method of growth. ^g

one primitive cell, thus forming in the beginning,
cells alike so far as we can see, that we should have
the proper division of wood and bark and leaves,
with their wonderfully complex structure of cells
and vessels all arranged for the service of the tree
and with power to act so that each should do its
part in the complicated machinery of plant growth.
But the plan of the tree seems to need all this, and
the invisible agency, at the proper time, gives to
these cells of common origin the form, position and
property, which should make them a fit part of the
complex whole. When the proper time comes,
the buds all appear in mathematical order upon the
limbs, and some of those buds put forth flowers and
all the machinery of fruiting, as well as leaves.
Look at the thousands of trees and other plants
that adorn our fields and forests, and see the plan
of each and the skill with which that plan is execu-
ted in every outward organ — the plan and execu-
tion being the result of that principle within, which
secures these varied forms and processes through
the agency of matter and the physical forces, as the
engineers use power from the same water-wheel and
materials from the same store-house, to turn out the
diverse products of a varied industry, — cloth and
nails and chairs and guns, — according to the design
and skill of the workmen in combining the mate-
rials for some definite purpose.

We may be told that one part of the plant
structure is produced by shortening an axis, and
another by the infolding and modification of a leaf,
and so on through all the morphology of the plant

8o Instinct,

Suppose we grant all this, as we are ready to do,
the wonder still remains that the axis was shorten-
ed and the leaf infolded and modified exactly as in
the operations of Instinct, to produce just the re-
s.ilt needed for the welfare of the tree as an individ-
ual or member of a species — to say nothing of the
original production of the axis and leaf to be so
modified.

In the bodies of animals the ministration of
this selecting and arranging power as manifested
by the function of organs, is of the same kind as
seen in plants, but the operations are more rapid,
more complicated and wonderful. In the full grown
animal we have a machine, and the higher the ani-
mal the more diverse the parts and complex the
machine. The parts are made of different materials
and diverse in form, but all nicely adjusted to each
other for a purpose — or for many subordinate pur-
poses, to secure the highest perfection of the individ-
ual and the continuance of the species. The body
of man or of one of the higher animals impresses us
at once as a work of design, but of such design as
we see accomplished by Instinct. We can trace
the whole process by which the body of any of our
higher animals is built up. And we see the same
sort of contrivance in the formation of parts, wis-
dom in selecting materials, and the same sort of skill
in manipulating them that we see in the operation
of the highest Instinct among bees and birds in the
construction of honey-comb and nests. The grow-
ing of this machine, after it is once formed with its

Evolution. ■ 81

apparatus all complete, is wonderful enough, but
there is something more wonderful, if possible, than
the mere growth; it is the original structure of the
machine, — the evolution of a complex organism
from a mass ©f matter having no trace of organs, —
through the agency of a principle within the matter
itself. In the Q%g of the bird, which is even more
complex than the eggs of most other animals, we
see a yolk surrounded by the albumen or white.
To the eye, unaided by the microscope, there ap-
pears one nearly homogeneous semi-fluid body sur-
rounded by another. The microscope reveals but
little more — certainly it reveals nothing in the ^^^
that suggests the form or the organs of the bird
that is to come from it. The warmth of the moth-
er bird, or an equal amount of warmth from any
other source, is all that is needed, and in a certain
number of days, varying with the species, there
comes from that ^g% a bird perfect in all its parts.
The yolk and white have disappeared. Instead of
them you have bone and muscle and feathers, or-
gans of sense and digestion, and the whole compli-
cated machinery of a living animal.

Now within that ^g^ was an artificer that for
want of a better name we call life. And the pro-
cess of this artificer's work we can watch from day
to day and from hour to hour, if we choose to do
so, and trace every step from the segregation of the
yolk and faint outline of a living form up to the
completion of the work.

But the term life is generic, if we consider only
4*

82 Instinct.

the constant results produced by it. All life does
not build up birds any more than all insects build
honey-comb. Life has as many specific characters
as there are distinct forms of living beings.

We are not now discussing the question how
these differences came to be, but simply call atten-
tion to their manifestations. We have life a con-
stant quantity, as we should express it in mathe-
matics, and we have joined to this a vast number of
variables which give us the forms of life as manifest-
ed in distinct kinds. These kinds have not only
life in common, but even the variables have some-
thing in common, so that the kinds can be arranged
into groups according to the similarity of these va-
riables, giving us GENERA, FAMILIES, CLASSES, and
finally two kingdoms, animal and vegetable, founded
mainly upon the variable, saisation.

We do not wish here to be understood as en-
dorsing the view that these variables are constantly
changing or liable to change. We only speak of
them as variables because they are the cause of dif-
ferences in forms, all due to one great underlying
principle which we call life, which no one fully un-
derstands, but the distinctive phenomena of which
every intelligent person understands as well as he
does the phenomena of gravitation. We regard
these variables as the same in kind as those that
give rise to the different kinds of matter, or at least
strongly analogous to them. We have the generic
notion of matter gained from certain properties that
must be present to give the notion of matter at all,
and then the variables that give the different kinds

Chemical Elements, 83

of matter. The variables In this case are fixed so
that probably no man now believes that Sodium
and Potassium ever change, one Into the other, or
Iron into Manganese, or Silver into Gold, though
there is great likeness between some of these ele-
ments, so great, that some eminent men have be-
lieved either that all kinds of matter are modifica-
tions of one element, or that each group of elements
is a modification of one element. A crude belief
of this kind was the foundation of the labors of the
old Alchemists. It is certain that the likeness of
the elements to each other is such that they can be
formed into groups by a truly natural classification
as can the kinds In the kingdom of life. The most
accurate modern research among the elements, has
but satisfied the best minds of their distinctness and
that the Alchemists were not only pardonable in
being misled by such a mistake but that the mis-
take itself arose from careful study and great knowl-
edge of the elements which they experimented
upon. If those who hold that the variables that
make the different kinds in the organic kingdom
are of such a nature that we can regard these kinds
all as modifications of one original simple form — if
those who hold this view should In the end find
that their theory Is as unfounded as that of the old
Alchemists proved to be, we can yet see that this
mistake, if mistake It proves to be, has arisen from
a most intimate acquaintance with the objects treat-
ed of; and we shall be as thankful to them for their
great contributions to science directly and indirectly
as we are to the Alchemists for the acids and other

84 Instinct.

important agencies and information which they be-
queathed to modern chemistry, which certainly
would have been far behind its present state had
not the transmutation theory kept so many experi-
iienters for ages eagerly at work.

But let us return to the variables in the king-
dom of Hfe. In the ^^g of the Robin, we have not
only life but we have in consequence of a fixed va-
riable, if I may be allowed the expression, that par-
ticular species of bird. There was life — that could
be understood as a distinct thing — and this life was
finally to manifest itself fully in the production of
the Robin in distinction from some other kind of
bird.

Not only are the notions of life, and animal life,
and bird life, entirely distinct from the specific no-
tion of the Robin, but they can all be reached by the
inspection of the embryo bird by every person capa-
ble of comprehension at all, before the specific char-
acters of the Robin would be so marked as to be
perceived by the best naturalist in the world who
had studied only the adult bird from which the
common notion of the word Robin is derived. But
the Robin was from the first potentially present in
the ^gg. The materials in the ^g'g do not differ, so
far as we can see, either in structure or composition,
from the materials in many other eggs ; but there
is an artificer there such as is found in no other
kind of Q,g%. He can build a Robin from the mate-
rials and nothing else. This artificer needs a cer-
tain degree of heat for his work. The heat may
come from the mother bird, from a bird of any

First instinctive Act. 85

other kind, or from a stove. Heat from the same
source may call into activity the latent principle in
a hundred kinds of eggs at the same time, as the
heat from the sun is the condition for the germina-
tion and growth of the thousand kinds of seeds that
develop into plants every year. It is plain that heat
and all the other physical forces have no formative
power over organic beings to determine kinds, as
these forces exert, or may exert, exactly the same
influence over organic beings that in the same place
are developing the most diverse forms and proper-
ties.

But this artificer in the Robin's ^gg, being fur-
nished with the proper conditions from the inorgan-
ic world, the same exactly as must be furnished in
the nests of other kinds for the production of young,
selects the materials, joins them together in a
certain order, and on a given day presents us with
a work as perfect as can be made from the mate-
rials in the ^'gg. We have a bird fitted for inde-
pendent life, and the bird is of a specific kind, — the
Robin.

The work now commenced must go on under
the same guide or builder while it goes on at all, but
the material is all used up. The young bird at once
seeks food ; if in no other way, by opening its bill
to receive it from the mother. It has the appetite
arising from the function of its body to impel it to
some action, and it is guided in performing the right
action without observation or instruction but by a
tendency and power of direction that were ready
•when needed ; and for the origin of this power we

86 Instinct.

search In vain in the history of the species. Such
a tendency and power are a part of Instinct. This
instinctive act of raising the head and opening the
bill was needed, and needed at once. Death would
come without this simple action on the part of the
young bird, in spite of its mother's efforts. It was
as needful for the first young bird that ever existed
as for one to-day. It is here — it is present in every
young bird on the globe that is hatched in so im-
mature state as to be unable to walk.

And here we see the first connection of Instinct
with the instinct-like processes below it. There is
simply a movement of the head to bring it into re-
lation with something outside of the body. All
else is dependent upon the Instinct of the mother
bird that supplements this opening of the bill by
supplying the young bird with the proper food.
And this raising of the head and opening of the bill
is no more comprehended by the young bird than
he comprehended the distribution of material that
forms his head or bill. It is an act performed by
all young birds as soon as hatched and therefore can
have no relation to experience or instruction. But
in the case of those birds like our domestic fowls,
that are hatched in a more mature state, the first
instinctive act is much more complex. The young
bird must select and pick up the first particle of
food it ever receives. The very first act of taking
food is as complicated in its nature as any subse-
quent act of feeding can be. This complex act is
performed by the bird by the same sort of law as
its blood circulates or its feathers grow.

Growth. 87

The food gathered either by the young bird or
supplied to it by the mother contains the same ma-
terials as are found in its own body just formed from
the ^%%^ because Instinct guides in its selection.
Physiological function of the mother supplied the tg^
from which the body of the young bird was formed,
and now her Instinct leads her to supply, through
volition, her young with additional substance of the
same kind. The Instinct of the young bird and
that of the mother both join to bring more material
within the working sphere of the same artificer that
first formed the bird from the materials in the ^g'g.
But how unlike in appearance from the substance
of the ^gg, are the grain and insects now supplied
to carry on the work ! But Instinct recognized
them as proper materials before chemistry was
known, and from these materials, that inscrutable
something that formed the bird within the ^'gg now
carries on its work to completion. It enlarges bone
and muscle and feather. This is growth, which at
first sight seems a simple matter compared with the
evolution of a perfect bird with all its complex tis-
sues and system of vessels from a single cell, but in
reality it is just as difficult of comprehension, or
rather just as far beyond our comprehension as the
other. The materials used we understand perfectly,
and the process of digestion and distribution we are
able to trace very fully. We see in the process the
action of chemical affinity and mechanical forces ;
but while all this knowledge is a great gain to us it
is not all. We no more feel that we know it all
now than we did before Chemistry and Physiology

88 Instinct,

were studied. We see chemical action and mechan-
ical structure and osmose just as far as our best
glasses will carry us, — but we see certain results
which we cannot find in these agencies any tenden-
cy even to produce, except as they are servants to
prepare and distribute materials. The organizing
force itself and its wise action in building up the or-
ganism are no nearer our comprehension than they
were before Spencer and Huxley wrote. Grov/th
in a complex being requires selection of material in
proper kind and quantity to be carried to certain
places, and there to be molded into certain forms
for a certain purpose, in a self-acting machine hav-
ing power of rapid and complex adjustments to the
constantly varying conditions of the inorganic world
and all organized beings with which it comes into
any relation. It is not enough that Lime and Iron
and Silica are carried to certain places, but they are
selected in proper quantities and carried where they
are needed for a specific purpose ; and there they
are mingled with other materials according to the
office they are to perform, and then are molded into
bone and feather, beak or talon, as the case requires,
according to the leading idea of the machine in
which the work is done. All this is entirely differ-
ent from the work of Chemistry or Mechanics, — so
very different that we see no more tendency in
Chemistry and Mechanics to set this machine in
motion and preside over its operations, even with
the aid of all the favoring conditions of the universe,
than we do in a finely adjusted machine to start it-
self. The origination of organized beings through

Functional Action. 8g

the direct agency of physical forces and perpetual
motion, seem to us to stand on the same plane sci-
entifically considered. But if one doubts this or
can see farther and discern a transmutation of forces
unperceived by common minds, still the fact remains
that there is something within the living body that
works with a purpose in regard to the whole struct-
ure at any given time, for its preservation and also
for the continuance of the kind. It not only selects
proper materials for its work, but it stores up ma-
terial for use at certain times, as fat in the fall of
the year for the use of hibernating animals, and lime
in crustaceans to suddenly form the new shell when
the old one is cast. It thickens the coverins; for
winter and throws off hair and fur when they are
no longer needed. When bones are broken or
wounds formed, it sets in motion machinery to re-
pair the damage. In all this we see going on with-
in the body perpetually the same sort of work that
we find going on out of the body through that agen-
cy which we call Instinct. And however diverse
these bodies are in structure and the function of
their organs, we find the Instinct connected with
each, fitted to carry out to perfection the work be-
gun within the body where the senses and volition
of the animal have no agency in the operations.
We can say of every animal that we find its Physi-
ology and Instinct working together, one always
supplementing the other so far as Instinct is need-
ed to secure the life of a single animal or the con-
tinuance of the kind.

And so far as we can see, the structure, function

90 Instinct.

and lowest form of Instinct by which the animal
takes food, propagates its species and cares for its
young till they are able to care for themselves, — all
these must have been present from the beginning
of each species as it now exists. If present species
have been derived from other species, then Struct-
ure, Function and Instinct, must have moved on in
every change in the individuals that survived, so as
to be properly called the ancestors of the present
species.

It is only fair to remark that this is no argument
against evolution of species from one form, if we
suppose this evolution provided for in the beginning
and all these activities arranged to come into play
at the same time and work together, as the parts of
a clock are so arranged by its maker that the hand
shall point to the figures and the hammer give the
corresponding number of blows — or as all the or-
gans of a flower are so arranged as to act their part
at the proper time for the fertilization of the seed.

Having made these general statements in regard
to the connection between the instinct-like opera-
tions of physiology and Instinct itself, we may en-
large more upon the method in which Instinct takes
the first step in securing the welfare of the individ-
jual. We have already referred to the Instinct of
the young bird which enables the mother to provide
for it. The peculiar Instincts of the young we shall
refer to in another connection. We speak now of
the adult in his simplest act for the preservation of
his own existence. The selection of food is the sim-
plest instinctive act that has relation to the whole

Securing Food. gi

complex organism, and it is the lowest that involves
any exercise of the senses as a condition for the ex-
ercise of the Instinct. This selection of the propei
kind of food may come to be essentially connected
in the adult with very complex activities and animal
powers of a high rank.

In the lowest forms of entozoa there seems to be
no volition in taking food, so far as we can see, even
in the adult. The food is simply absorbed. The
coral polyp also is stationary, as is the oyster, and
both must feed upon materials brought to them by
the waters, though very likely there is volition ex-
ercised by both animals in the process of selecting
materials from the waters. But the most wonder-
ful part of these animals, that which evinces the
most evident design — the coral cells that form the
coral branch or dome, and the pearly shell — are the
simple products of growth, — volition neither origin-
ates nor changes them. In higher animals we find
Instinct manifested not only in selecting food from
materials presented, but in seeking for it and secur-
ing it. To do this, it is sometimes necessary that
the Instinct of one animal shall take advantage of
or circumvent the Instinct of another. The Bald
eagle takes advantage of the Instinct and labor of
the Fish-hawk to procure fish for himself by rob-
bery. The Arctic Jager obtains its food by per-
secuting the Gulls. And a Southern Gull steals
from the Pelican. The cat tribe know without in-
struction how to watch for prey. Those animals
that must feed in winter when no food can be ob-
tained know how to gather in stores, though they

92 Instinct,

may never have seen a winter. Those that sleep
in winter, simply prepare a nest. In both cases, In-
stinct supplements function. Migration from place
to place, as the supply of food changes, is the meth-
od of solving the same question for many birds.
Function thickens the coat of the animal for winter
This provision is just as needful as any thing In-
stinct can do, but Instinct is not burdened with any
thing that function can perform. All that relates
to providing food in the first instance is left to In-
stinct. That action of the system by which it lives
upon the fat stored up in the fall and the change
that takes place in hibernation by which the ex-
penditure of material is lessened, are certainly func-
tional changes. These are instinct-like provisions
of the system ; but the securing of the food in the
first instance was done by a principle that supple-
ments structure and function ; and this principle is
something entirely different from them, and some-
thing that no structure or function of the animal
system would suggest the existence of, except as we
have learned by observation that there always is in
the animal a directing power which we call Instinct,
to supplement the structure and function of organs
and thus to complete the work commenced in the
body.

LECTURE IV.

HIGHER FORMS OF INSTINCT FOR THE WELFARE
OF THE INDIVIDUAL OR THE SPECIES, HAVING
NO IMMEDIATE RELATION TO STRUCTURE OR
FUNCTION OF ORGANS.

Intelligence guided by experience, — Instinct independent. — A natural
development. — Btdlding of nests or homes. — Perfection of nest
no test of the animaFs rank. — The facts of Building stated. —
Relation of Building to Structure and Function. — Variation in
Building. — Swallows. — Thrushes. — Oriole. — Black - birds. —
Sparrows. — Nests fro??i different localities. — Mr, Wallace's The-
ory.— Difference in Builditig Power. — Improvement by Practice.
— The Cow-bird. — Supplementary Instinct of the Foster-parent.
Change of Instinct compared with change in plants.

Is that Instinct or Reason ? is the common ques-
tion, when an animal performs some act that com-
mends itself to the Reason of man. Where-we find
animals adapting means to ends, the conclusion is
often reached that there is Intelligence to guide the
act, when the very wisdom of the act proves it to
be instinctive, — that is, an act performed without
any comprehension by the actor of the end to be
reached. Pure Instinct works out the wisest results
with the certainty almost of the operations of the
physical forces of nature. And because these re-
sults are wise, in the sense of being adapted to se-
cure the welfare of the actor, and because volition

f

94 Instinct,

is brought Into play, it is a very natural thing to re-
fer such acts to Intelligence in the actor, which
adapts means to ends through a comprehension of
both ends and means. Great confusion has arisen
from a failure to understand that the first introduc-
tion of Intelligence, while it widens the sphere of
action, always renders wise results less certain in
the beginning than they are in the sphere of pure
Instinct. Instinct can be cheated, as we shall show,
at the proper time, but it is only in the sphere of
Intelligence that mistakes and blunders are the
common result, until experience w^hips the being of
IntelHgence into the right road. Pure Instinct
needs no experience. It goes before to preserve
life until knowledge from experience is possible.
And in this work of preserving life where experi-
ence could not be secured, it often performs wise
acts, — just such acts as in beings of Intelligence are
performed only after individual experience or in-
struction from the experience of others. We must
throw aside at once then that notion that an act of
wisdom and intelligence is absolute proof that the
wisdom and intelligence reside in the actor. That
question can only be determined by considering the
conditions under which the act is performed. The
best corrective to these hasty conclusions that have
been formed respecting the nature of Instinct in
animals, from the kind of acts it secures, is found
in the careful study of those operations performed
by plants ; because in them, there is no danger of
being misled so as to ascribe wisdom to the actor.
This is one reason why we have pointed out so

/

Supplementary Work. 95

many of these peculiar processes in the vegetable
kingdom. The same instinct-like processes were
traced in the evolution of animals, that we might
find the exact point where Instinct comes in to car-
ry on the work which the structure and function of
organs both demand. We cited as the simplest in-
stance of Instinct, the act of the young bird just
from the shell, that lifts its head and opens its bill
to receive the food needful to carry on the work
thus far carried on by the use of the material in the
^^%. The material in the ^^^ was just sufficient in
quantity and had the proper proportion of elements
to form the bird. The young bird came from the
shell with a structure capable of receiving food,
with an appetite to demand it and with an Instinct
to receive it from the mother as in the case of the
Robin, or to select and secure it for itself as in the
case of the young of the domestic fowls.

And these three agencies, Structure, Function
and Instinct, were all ready to enter upon their
joint action at the same time. And the nature or
complexity of the Instinct varies with the complex-
ity of structure so as to exactly supplement it. If
this were not so the animal must die. So the won-
ders of Instinct are no greater than the wonders of
physiology in preparing and distributing food for
the building up of the system, or the wonders of
the eye that is ready for seeing without any knowl-
edge of optics on the part of its possessor. Instinct,
pure and distinct, in all its complexity, is as natural a
development according to fixed law, as wings or
teeth or claws according to the wants of the ani-

g6 Instinct,

mal, — and the origin and development of one is just
as far beyond our comprehension as the other.

The taking of food is a prime necessity for every
animal. The necessity begins almost at the instant
independent life begins. It returns with regularity
or at least with absolute certainty so long as the
vital functions continue their normal activity. And
any failure to meet the demands of the appetite for
food and drink prevents all development and ordi-
narily brings speedy death.

The necessity for building nests or homes has no
such immediate relation to the organization of the
animal. And in the work of building we are intro-
duced at once to the higher and more complex acts
of Instinct.

In the case of many animals, the building is sim-
ply a contrivance for rearing young ; the home
never being used except for the production and
care of the young, and therefore not being any thing
growing out of the constant necessities of the indi-
vidual, as is the taking of food. Some animals
never build at all, either for themselves or their
young, as is the case with most fishes as well as
with many of the larger quadrupeds ; and even
some birds lay their eggs upon the bare rocks or
grass. There are examples enough from all depart-
ments of the animal kingdom, in different parts of
the scale of rank, to show that building is by no
means a prime necessity even for the care of young.
And it is further to be remarked that the skill in
building is by no means in proportion to the rank
of the animal in the intelligfence of its acts in regard

Homes of Animals, 97

to other things. In fact those animals which in their
structure and mental qualities seem to approach
nearest humanity, either build in a very rude man-
ner or not at all. In many cases the skill to build
seems to be greater as the animal is lower in the
scale. Certain it is, that the nest is no test of the
capability of the animal in any other direction. It
seems to be something which the animal has the
impulse to build and the skill to build because it
needs it for its own welfare or that of the species, as
the silk worm winds the cocoon for a tomb in which
to pass to a higher condition of life.

There are certain things in reference to this ten-
dency to build and the skill in doing the work that
are not only curious but may have an important
bearing upon the theories respecting the origin and
development of animals.

1. We find in some cases the building material
wholly or partially secreted from the body of the
builder, — as the silk with which the different spe-
cies of spiders weave their webs or form their curious
nests, and the wax for the Honey-bee's comb. In
the case of many other animals the sizing or cement
is apparently furnished from the body of the build-
er, as in the case of hornets and wasps of various
kinds that make paper and the hardest kind of
paste-board of woody fiber. The American Swift
or Chimney-Swallow, also glues together the sticks
to form its nest with a cement from the glands of
its throat.

2. Among animals very nearly allied there is

5

98 Instinct.

great diversity of building as is seen especially
among bees of different kinds ; as the Honey-bee
with its waxen wonder and the Bumble-bee with
her few uncouth cells, chiefly the deserted cocoons
of her brood. The Carpenter-bee and others give
still more diverse methods. Among the wasp tribe
we find those that build with woody fiber and
others that build with clay. And both of these
materials are wrought into varied forms by differ-
ent species of the wasp tribe.

3. The building is sometimes the work of the
male alone, as in the case of the Sticklebacks among
fishes ; and sometimes of the female alone, as the
nest of the Paper-wasp prepared for the first brood
of workers in the spring ; and sometimes it is the
joint labor of both male and female, as among most
birds.

And then in other cases, all the care of building
belongs to a set of workers that never produce
young themselves but seem to have their whole en-
ergy concentrated on the work of providing for and
defending the young of others. The White-ants
and Honey-bees are the best examples of such
builders.

4. Those animals that show the greatest range
of building power are those that build in the rudest
manner ; and those animals that attract the great-
est attention by their complicated and skilfuly
constructed homes, are those that work almost with
the exactness of machinery.

Impulse to Build. 99

5. When we find different methods of building
practised by the same animal, we generally observe
the same uniformity in carrying out each of these
methods, as we find among animals having only
one method.

The house of the Muskrat, built of mud and
reeds in shallow waters, and the burrow of the
same animal where he can find steep banks, are two
methods by which he adapts himself to the differ-
ent conditions of the places he inhabits ; but each
method is as uniform, in itself considered, as though
that were the only method practised by the ani-
mal.

In a certain sense, the structure of an animal's
organs and the functions of his body have a relation
to the home he prepares, for it is by structure alone
or structure and function combined that he is ena-
bled to build at all. But the impulse to build in
the large majority of cases is one that has so remote
a relation to the structure of the animal or his wants,
and his ability to build so far transcends what we
should expect from an examination of his structure,
that we could never tell beforehand how any ani-
mal would build. Nothing can well be more unlike
than the homes of animals that we should naturally
expect would build in the same manner.

We see no tendency in the function of produc-
ing young even to originate the impulse to build or
to give the skill to build the numerous kinds of
nests found in the animal kingdom. In some cases
we see the need of the nests and dens if the young
are to come to maturity at all with any degree of

lOO Instinct.

certainty ; but the need arising from certain condi-
tions does not in any manner account for the origin
of the impulse to do a given thing, or the marvel-
lous skill often manifested to meet the conditions
which the necessity imposes.

If we consider the nests of birds for instance,
which are the animal homes best known to us, they
nearly all are made simply for the care of the young;
but no one could tell from the examination of a
bird, what materials it v/ould select for its nest, its
method of combining them or the position of the
nest. Birds very nearly allied differ much in their
habits of nesting, and yet in each case the nest is so
uniform in its structure and surroundings as to be
in general characteristic of the species. That is,
birds of the same species, under the same circum-
stances, build with like m.aterials and in like posi-
tions. Any departure from the common method
of building in any given locality will be found, on
careful examination, to be very slight, and to be so
uniform in the variation, according to the surround-
ing conditions, as to appear to be a manifestation
of a wider range of Instinct than had generally been
attributed to the bird, rather than a result of intel-
ligent contrivance, as is seen among men. The va-
riation in the form of nest once seen can be described
as the certain work of the animal when circum-
stances demand or favor the change ; the new man-
ifestation of instinctive knowledge and skill being
made in a specific method to meet the new condi-
tions.

We need only call attention to a few of our well

Swallows. loi

known birds to show that each species instinctively
gathers the same materials for its nests, combines
them in the same manner, and selects for its nests
similar positions ; and also to show that birds of the
same family, and even of the same genus, differ more
from each other in all these particulars, than many
birds do that are far removed from each other, ac-
cording to the structure of organs and apparent
ability to build.

One of the Swallow family, like a skilful mason,
fastens its nest of mortar against the frame-work of
the old barn ; another, with the same materials, fash-
ions a more curious nest still, beneath the eaves of
the same building, — both species preferring these
places, when they can be found, to such places as
they are compelled to sekct beyond the habitations
. of man. Another Swallow makes her grassy bed in
^ a hollow tree, another digs deep holes in steep sandy
banks, for its young. The so called Chimney-swal-
low finds its favorite home in hollow trees or in the
chimney of the farm-house, where it plasters its hard
nest of sticks against the mason work with a cement
secreted from its own body. If we class this bird
near the Night-hawks, as some do, the difference in
nesting is as marked, for the Night-hawks can hard-
ly be said to form nests at all. No examination of
these birds would enable the best Ornithologist in
the world to predict what materials would be used
for the nest of each, the form of the nest, or its
position. The facts can be learned by observation
only. But w^hen the habits of each species, in
nesting, have once been learned, they are always

102 Instinct.

given in describing the bird as something so con-
stant from generation to generation, as to be worthy
of study as characteristics of the species.

Among the Thrushes, the well known Robin
builds its rude nest of mud and grass in almost any
elevated place, while other birds of the same ge-
nus, as the Brown thrush, use no mud in the con-
struction of their nests and often place them upon
the ground. The brilliantly colored Oriole weaves
her pendant nest upon slender, drooping branches.
The nearly allied Crow-blackbird builds its nest
entirely unlike this, of coarse materials, on the
most solid basis it can select, while the Cow-black-
bird, like the European Cuckoo, never builds at all;
but deposits its eggs in the nests of other birds
that its young may be cared for by them.

Most of our sparrows build simple nests upon
the ground, while the Chipping-sparrow, like the
Canada Bunting, is known as ''Tree-sparrow,"
and also as " Hair-bird," because it generally
builds in trees and lines its nest with hair.
What can be more curious, or mark more strong-
ly the peculiar nature of Instinct, than that
thousands of birds of the same kind should form
nests of the same pattern, selecting materials of the,
same kind for the different parts, when no possible
reason can be given why another form would not
do as well for the bird and be as easy for her to
build!

It is true, when we examine nests of the same
species in different localities, that we find difference
in material, difference in the perfection of the work,

Uniformity of the work. 103

and difference in the position of the nests. But
when we have discounted all these differences, there
remains a permanence of type to the work of In-
stinct in each species, almost equal to the perma-
nence of structure, size, color and other character-
istics that mark the species. So that we may fair-
ly say that the uniformity of Instinct in the work
of building, approaches the uniformity of physical
function in giving character to the animal.

We have here then two very distinct statements
to make that seem borne out by careful observa-
tion.

First, — That in the same species there is in
general great uniformity in all the elements of
building, as to materials, form, skilful work and posi-
tion. And,

Second, — That birds so nearly allied as to be-
long to the same family, and even the same genus,
build in such diverse methods that their nests have
little or nothing in common, except that they are
nests.

If we start with the assumption that each fami-
ly of birds came from one ancestor, it is perplexing
to understand how the slight differences of struc-
ture which mark the distinction between many spe-
cies, should be accompanied by such change of In-
stinct that there should be such great diversity in
building among birds of nearly allied species inhab-
iting the same district ; and yet such great uni-
formity and permanence of method among birds of
the same species.

That the Baltimore Oriole should always hang

104 Instinct.

its nest as it does, or that the Chipping-sparrow
should hne its nest with hair, and so on of the pe-
cuhar characteristics of the nests of hundreds of
birds, are things which cannot be satisfactorily ac-
counted for, by any appeal to the force of habit or any
thing connected with the physical nature of the bird.

It has been noticed by Mr. Wallace, in his val-
uable contribution to Natural History,"^ that birds
generally build with the materials most convenient
for them ; and this is undoubtedly true as a gener-
al proposition, as it is true that they eat the food
most convenient for them. And they select for
their breeding-places regions where the conditions
of building and feeding are best for them. This
selection of localities by long journeys even, is a
part of their instinctive work.

But it is not true that birds select the most
convenient material for building to any such ex-
tent as to lead us to infer that they learned to
build with any particular materials simply because
they were abundant. For different kinds of birds
living in the same region, build their nests upon
very different plans, and very many of them build
of materials that are by no means abundant. It
is difficult to tell why the Great-crested Fly-catcher
uses the cast-off skins of snakes in building its
nests ; but, certainly, it is not because they are the
most abundant materials that it can find.

If the exact material the birds wish for cannot
be found, they select that most like it as a substi-

* "Natural Selection," p. 215.

Wallaces Theory, 105

tute. The materials are then woven in a manner
peculiar to each species, so that the nest of the
bird, in very many cases, can be as certainly known
when found deserted as it would be with the bird
upon it. And when a new bird is discovered and
its nest is found, that is described with nearly the
same expectation on the part of the Naturalist
that all other birds of that species will nest in the
same manner, as that they will produce eggs of the
same size, form and color. The character of the
nest depends not only upon the material used but
upon the form and the method in which the mate-
rial is combined. The theory is broached by Wal-
lace,* that the young bird studies the nest, and so
builds by imitation. To say nothing of the want
of observation which he shows in talking of the
young birds as coming back to the nest, which sel-
dom, if ever, happens among birds that build open
nests, as the large majority of birds do,— he seems
to overlook the fact that skill in combining the ma-
terials for the nest, is the marvel. It is not so much
that the bird knows how the nest is made as that
she is able to make the nest at all,— especially that
certain kinds of birds are able to build such com-
plicated nests the first time the attempt is made.
Let Mr. Wallace study the nest of a Baltimore Oriole
or of a Chipping-sparrow twice as long as the young
birds remain in it, even counting the days before
their eyes are open, and let him then go to work
with all the implements the most skilful mechanic

* " Natural Selection," pp. 223-3.
5*

io6 Instinct,

can furnish, — let him work a month, and if he can
produce as good a nest as the bird will build in a
week with its beak and claws, we will listen patient-
ly to the arguments to prove that birds learn by
observation to build nests. We can hardly do so
now.

But it is said that some nests of the same spe-
cies are better built than others. Certainly.
Sometimes undoubtedly it is impossible for the
bird to find the best materials; sometimes there
may be structural difficulties in the bird that inter-
fere with skilful work, and it would certainly be dif-
ferent from any thing else in nature if we did not
find birds of the same species differing somewhat in
the nest-building power, as they do in size, beauty
of plumage and power of song. It is possible that
there is real improvement by practice, as Wilson
long ago suggested, but there are no facts that are
conclusive proof of it. And after discounting all
differences found among nests of the same species,
we have still remaining in the manufacture of some
nests, manifestations of skill that no human work-
man can approach with the same materials. A
careful examination of the nests of birds will con-
vince any one that there is given to each species,
without experience or instruction, a tendency to
build nests, that arises as spontaneously as hunger
arises at stated times from waste of tissue. There is
also an impulse to select certain materials for the dif-
ferent parts of the nest ; and this impulse is as fixed
as is the law of growth which gives to the bird a
certain color or thickness of feather, both of which

Intelligefice. 107

may vary according to the different conditions of
the bird. And lastly, there is the skill to combine
the materials ; and this comes by the same sort of
law as that by which the talons of the bird of prey are
fitted for their work, or ornaments of color and
form of feather are so skilfully arranged on birds
as to challenge the admiration of the greatest mas-
ters of art. The perfect form of beak and talon and
the ornamentation of feathers are the result of
growth ; but because the work of building nests in-
volves volition, the same sort of wisdom and skill
are often referred to the bird as would be found in
a human being who could perform the same work.
But a human being having Intelligence, that is, the
power of comprehending the relation of means to
ends, would be compelled to study and work long
to gain the knowledge and skill which the bird has
as an original gift — as it has fine feathers without
borrowing them and artistic ornaments without la-
bor or price. Intelligence, wherever found, has the
blessed privilege of laboring in order to learn, and
the condition of enjoyment through learning, never
ends; but the knowledge and skill of Instinct come
without effort. There is no joy in acquiring and
no basis for self-improvement from Instinct alone.
The animal doomed to live under the guidance of
Instinct alone, has its knowledge and skill at the
appointed time as regularly and as spontaneously
as hunger or thirst.

That birds may have a ray of Intelligence we
shall not here pretend to deny. When we come to
trace out the relation of instinctive acts to the

io8 Instinct,

work of Intelligence, we may be ready to grant to
some of them a good measure of Intelligence.
What we wish now especially to controvert, is the
doctrine that all Instinct is the result of observa-
tion, either of the present races or of past races,
from which the fixed habits have been transmitted,
or that high wisdom and skill manifested in an act,
are any certain proof of comprehension on the part
of the actor.

One of the most conclusive arguments against
this doctrine, that birds build nests by observa-
tion or the study of the nest in which they were
hatched, is found in the habits of the Cow-bird {Mo-
lothrus pecoris) already referred to. This bird nev-
er builds a nest at all. The young Cow-birds wake
to life in all sorts of nests where their mothers de-
posit their eggs, — in Ground-sparrows' and Tree-
sparrows' nests — in Warblers' and Vireos' nests.
Now according to the observation theory, we ought
to find these birds building nests; and such nests
as each one was raised in. But we find Instinct as-
serting its sway. In the spring time we see hun-
dreds of these birds in New England congregating
together — not with the birds in whose nests they
were hatched. We find them with a note of their
own and in spite of their opportunity of observa-
tion and in spite of the care of their foster-parents,
we see these perverse birds refusing to build nests
of any kind, but putting out their own young to be
cared for by other birds, just as their own parents
did. They follow the habits of their parents,

Defective Instinct Supplemented. 109

although they riever sazu them, and perversely throw
aside all the instruction of their foster-parents,
which they enjoyed oftentimes to the detriment
or destruction of the rightful birdlings of the nest.

We here observe two things that impress us
with the blindness as well as certainty with which
Instinct operates, when performing those works
which often appear so wise. The Cow-bird simply
finds a nest, deposits an Qgg and leaves it to its
fate. The Instinct of the mother stops there ; and
the whole race of Cow-birds would speedily become
extinct if this apparently defective Instinct were
not supplemented by the Instinct of the foster-
mother that broods upon the Qgg as though it were
her own, and then feeds the strange bird hatched from
it, until it becomes twice her own size, it may be,
and entirely unlike her own young. Though this
young intruder often pitches all the rightful occu-
pants of the nest upon the ground to die, yet the
foster-mother does not generally detect the imposi-
tion practised upon her. If her Instinct Avere not at
fault there would soon be an end of Cow-birds. But
if Cow-birds are to exist at all, then the perfection
and wisdom manifested in the foster-mother's In-
stinct consists in the certainty of her being de-
ceived and thus doing for the Cow-bird the work
which its parent refused or failed to do for it.

In a certain sense the nest-building Instinct of
birds is connected with the function of producing
young ; but the connection is very remote compared

no Instinct,

with the connection between hunger or thirst and
the Instinct that enables the animal to satisfy the
appetites. At the proper time the bird returns, it
may be from the south, to its proper breeding-place,
chooses its mate, if that were not done before the
journey commenced, and in due time commences
the work of nest building. The peculiar nature of
Instinct is shown first in this, that the bird builds
its nest before it is really needed, and also in the
materials selected, their skilful arrangement and in
the form and position of the nest ; all constant or
very nearly so, in the same species.

All the differences that have been pointed out iit
nests of the same species of birds are not greater than
can be pointed out in the habits of the same species of
plants, by which, through some law of their growth,
they adapt themselves to the conditions of the place
zvhere they chance to grow. We are prepared to say
then that while we do not deny a degree of Intelli-
gence, even to birds, we regard their most perfect
and wonderful works, those often referred to as
proofs of Intelligence, to be the products of Instinct
that works by a wisdom of which its possessor has
no comprehension.

LECTURE V.

SOME MANIFESTATIONS OF HIGHER INSTINCT.—
RELATION OF INSTINCT TO SPECIAL STRUCT-
URE AND FUNCTION.

Relation of the Appetites to the Instincts. — Perfection of the work no
proof of Intelligence in the Actor. — Test of Intelligence. — Flexi-
bility of Instinct. — The Anipelopsis. — The Bean. — The Potato. —
The Kno2vledge of Enemies among Foxvls. — Common defence. —
Simulation of death. — Instinct and Clitnatic change. — The Musk-
rat. — The Partridge. — Instincts learned from observation alone.
— Ijtstincts essential to life. — Origin of instinctive powers. — Hi-
bernation.— Difficulties of the Natural Selection Theory. — Special
Structures. — The Rattle-snake, Bee, Wasp and Hornet. — Rela^
tion of Instinct to color and form. — Cases cited from Wallace. —
Relation of Instinct to Experience. — Seventeen-year Locusts.

We have thus far treated of Instinct chiefly as sup-
plementing structure and function of organs, either
directly or indirectly. There is a certain function
of the stomach that produces the sensation of hun-
ger. Instinct takes up the work and allays this
craving by supplying the materials that satisfy it, —
and the materials that satisfy it in each animal are
the materials fitted to prolong his life and build
up the body. This chain of means is complete.
The links all join together — they are links of physi-
cal necessity, if the animal kingdom is to be kept on
this globe. In hundreds of kinds of animals they are

1 1 2 Instinct.

as ready to do their appointed work the instant the
animal bursts from the egg, as they are at any sub-
sequent period of life, as in the case of the majority
of insects and fishes that never know a parent's care.
It is sometimes said that hunger is instinctive.
A careful consideration of the activities will show
this statement to be an abuse of terms. Much con-
fusion has arisen by confounding the appetites with
the Instincts or from a misapprehension of their
relations to each other. The appetites proper, as
the appetite for food, arise directly from the func-
tional action of some organ. The functional action
of the stomach, for instance, producing hunger,
calls Instinct into play to procure the proper food.
And this may be said of the appetites, that they
are the condition for the activity of certain Instincts
calling them into play to carry out to completion
the work, to which the appetites furnish the first im-
pulse ; that is, the continuance of the individual or
species. Some of the works that have their origin
in an impulse of appetite are so complicated that
they give rise to whole series of acts involving a
varied and wonderful adaptation of means to ends,
as is the case among birds in all their work of rear-
ing young referred to in the last lecture. But so
long as the same results are reached by the same
means by thousands of individuals ivithout experie^ice
or instruction, zve have no ground for inferring that
there is co7nprehension of means and ends in the actor.
In fact the more complex and perfect the work per-
formed,/r<?z^/^^^ it is performed withotti instruction
or chance for experience, the more certain it is that

Self-adjusting Power. \ 1 3

such work was blindly performed under the control
of some law of life, as certain in its action, and yet
as free from wisdom or contrivance in the actor, as
the growth of organs or the activity of the organs
when the good of the being demands it. Intelli-
gence in the actor works by no such uniform meth-
ods.

But it is said there is not only adaptation of
means to ends among animals but such a variation
of action according to the change of conditions
as to show comprehension on the part of the actor.
If there is truly comprehension and specific ac-
tion in consequence of it, showing that means and
ends and their relation to each other are all under-
stood by the actor, then we plainly have intelli-
gence. But in many cases there is no proof of com-
prehension where it is claimed. It seems to be the
nature of Instinct to vary within certain limits to
meet the change of conditions in the world around
it, as the balance-wheel of the watch, made of differ-
ent metals, adjusts itself to almost continual change
of temperature so as to give uniform results in the
movement of the watch. It is the office of Instinct
to do a certain work to keep the animal in the world.
To do this it must vary somewhat in its action ac-
cording to external conditions, but no more, nor in
a more wonderful manner, than the organs or func-
tions vary in their activity in both animals and
plants, to meet the change of conditions in the
world around them. Does not the eye adjust itself
without Intelligence, to the change of light within
certain limits? Does not the coat of fur thicken

114 htstinct.

upon animals as winter approaches, to be thrown
off again, without volition, when the warmth of
spring makes it no longer needful, but a burden ?
Even among plants, we find such change of action
according to surrounding conditions, that nothing
would save them from being charged with acting
by contrivance and forethought, except that they
are plants. If a Woodbine {A mpelopsis qui7iquefolid)
can find a support on which it can wind its tendrils,
it will do so, like the Grape-vine and many other
climbing plants ; but if it can find no such support,
it will fasten the ends of its tendrils against the
smooth walls by broad disks and thus hold itself in
place. This beautiful vine was evidently made to
climb walls ; and within certain limits, its method
of growth changes to meet the circumstances of the
case. A bean, which must climb, hunts for a pole
by causing the terminal bud to describe larger cir-
cles as the vine lengthens. It will find the pole on
one side of the hill as well as on the other within
certain limits, — that is, if the pole is near enough
for the vine to reach it before its weight brings it
to the ground. It will, even then, often make a sec-
ond attempt from its new centre of support. The
eyes or buds of the potato may be pointed towards
the centre of the earth, but when the sprouts start
they will bend and, avoiding all obstacles that op-
pose them within certain limits, will push their way
to the light. These and a multitude of other plants
not only show adaptation of means to ends in
their mode of growth, but the mode of growth va-
ries according to the conditions in which the plant

Higher Manifestations, 1 1 5

is placed. In the animal kingdom there are just as
plain cases of variation of method where no com-
prehension can be fairly inferred, but where it is
often presumed to be present simply because the
acts are voluntary. We have here another illustra-
tion of the value of a more careful study of plant
life and the functional changes of the animal king-
dom to adapt its members to the conditions, of the
world, in correcting many hasty conclusions and in
leading us to study the conditions of any act more
carefully than is generally done, before we refer its
wisdom or the contrivance manifested by it, to the
comprehension of the actor.

We have perhaps sufficiently considered the
Instincts as ministering to the demands of the ap-
petites. But there are instinctive acts that have
no possible relation to the appetites or any function
of organs, so far as we can see. They arise from
some power of knowing, or mode of acting, given to
the animal as its original endowment, such as could
be gained by man only from experience or instruc-
tion. The fear of a particular enemy is an exam-
ple, as the fear of birds of prey by our domestic
fowls. Fear of danger is an Instinct common to all
animals as well as man ; and a bird may certainly
learn by experience, that certain things are danger-
ous. In all cases where an animal learns by expe-
rience, there may be a claim set up that there is
Intelligence; though here there is great need of
caution, as many cases of apparent learning from
experience can be fairly brought under that princi-
ple of Instinct, which we have already explained,

Ii6 histinct.

by which it varies within certain limits, to meet
change of condition in the world around it.

But the peculiar fear which all grain-eating birds
have of hawks, even when they are seen for the first
time, is marvellous. The domestic fowls always
know their enemy, — raise the cry of alarm, — and even
the young chickens rush to cover. Young birds of
other kinds, in the nest, unable to fly and as yet
having no experience of evil, shrink with wild ter-
ror from a hawk.

The fact that the fowl knows every bird of prey
at first sight, as something to be specially dread-
ed, is a thing that marks the manifestation of Instinct
as peculiar ; and for the existence of this peculiar
terror no rational account can be given, except that
this instinctive dread is an original endowment of
the fowl, without which the species would be de-
stroyed. All attempts to resolve it into habit or
experience, seem to us to utterly fail, as we shall at-
tempt to show in a future lecture. It is one of
the original outfits essential for the preservation
of the species, and therefore could no more be left
to experience than the Instinct for selecting food
could be left to experience.

There is not only instinctive recognition, by
the fowl, of the hawk as an enemy, but Instinct
also makes every fowl a sentinel for all the rest
of the flock. The first one that sees the enemy
does not seek its own safety alone, but instantly
raises the cry of alarm, which all its fellows, even
the youngest, instantly understand. That note is
like no other, but it is common to all fowls when

Fear of Enemies, 1 1 7

the enemy is seen. This pecuHar fear, the note of
warning, the instant recognition of it by all oth-
ers, and the impulse to hide when the alarm is
sounded, are, taken together, a perfect adaptation
of means to ends ; such as might be arranged
among men by agreement. But here we find this
social machinery in operation at once among all
fowls. Each one acts its part instinctively, with the
same precision and certainty as its hunger comes to
aid in the preservation of its life, or its wings grow
in the best mechanical form for flying.

Among grain-eating and insect-eating birds
there is also a common call or warning note, heeded
not by one species only but by many, when there
is common danger from birds of prey. It is not an
uncommon thing to see hawks chased by several
kinds of birds at the same time, especially the spar-
row hawks, that are dangerous to the small birds.
A most remarkable instance of this united action
of the different species of birds in protecting each
other, came under my own observation. A small
owl was fastened near a house in daytime, and was
accidentally seen by a robin, that raised the alarm
of danger. Instantly, from all directions, the note
was answered, and birds of different kinds were seen
flying towards the spot. Within five minutes,
more than fifty birds, representing fourteen differ-
ent species, were in the tree and doing what they
could to drive away or torment their common en-
emy, the owl.

There are other methods of saving life by in-
stinctive acts, that are so uniform and yet vary so

1 1 8 Instinct.

much in details to suit particular cases, that they
are worthy of study, as parts of that complex ma-
chinery by which nature provides for her species, so
that they may have a fair chance in the struggle
for existence.

The simulating of death is a common instinctive
act with many animals. If we referred this device
to any comprehension of means to ends by the ac
tor, it would, in its different manifestations, be rank-
ed with the most adroit cunning among men. But
the varied conditions under which this instinctive
act is manifested, forbid our referring it to any thing
but an original gift, as free from contrivance on the
part of the actor as is his form or color. The sim-
ulation of death is common to many of the insect
tribe and to the Opossum, whose success in the
trick is so well known as to make his name a by-
word. We find the same simulation of death among
the young of some species of mice, so long as they
are helpless, while the Instinct seems to be lost
when they are old enough to care for themselves in
other ways. Before their eyes are open, they will
go through all the contortions of dying animals, and
finally put on the perfect semblance of death.
AVhen we consider the low rank of the Opossum, the
most successful counterfeiter of death among adult
vertebrates, and also that this device is most com-
mon among insects, and is also found among the
helpless young of some animals, we shall see that
this apparent cunning and contrivance are sim-
ply capabilities given to compensate for the want of
other powers, and that they are the result of spon-

Climatic Charige. 119

tancous impulse, saving the animal, he knows not
how.

There are many instinctive powers ascribed to
animals the existence of which is not certainly es-
tablished— as the power of perceiving the change of
weather. Some animals may possess this power as
an Instinct, but there is need of more observation
on the point, before it can be accepted as estab-
lished. Undoubtedly they are influenced by cli-
matic change, as men are, and many of them proba-
bly to a much greater degree ; but a careful exam-
ination may show that many acts now referred to
Instinct,are simply the result of physical exhilaration
or depression, through climatic influence, and that
these are therefore reflex, rather than instinctive,
acts. Certain it is, that Instinct is not a perfect
guide in reference to climatic change ; for many an-
imals perish every year because heat or cold, or
moisture or drought, are more severe than their In-
stinct had provided for. Under the impulse of the
Instinct of migration, birds often come north in
spring to perish by storms of snow and cold, which
would not happen if Instinct were the perfect weath-
er prophet which it sometimes has the credit of
being.

It is supposed by some, that the severity of the
coming winter can be predicted from the character
of the walls of the houses which the Muskrats build.
After carefully observing the work of these ani-
mals for more than twenty-five years, and compar-
ing the predictions with the results, I cannot be-
lieve that the Muskrat knows any thing, beforehand.

120 Instinct.

of the severity of the winter or the height of the
coming freshets. He certainly makes serious blun-
ders. He sometimes builds his house where the
water leaves it in winter and the frost renders it
useless. And, again, he builds it where the freshets
overflow it and compel him to shift for himself
among the ice and water. The Muskrat provides
for winter as many other animals do, but the un-
certainty of the season is a condition which seems
to be an important element that he has to contend
with in his struggle for existence. The thickness
of the walls of his house, according to which the
severity of winters is predicted, seems to depend
upon the condition of the weather while the house
is building, rather than upon any foresight of its
builder as to the coming winter. As the Muskrat
cannot control the height of the water, as does his
cousin the Beaver, he is often compelled to add to
his house as the water rises and then again as it re-
treats, while he makes his canals and approaches
deeper. He is often kept at work upon his house
till winter closes in. What affects one lodge is like-
ly to affect all more or less, in the same region ;
and thus in meeting the exigencies of the case, from
day to day, these animals have had credit for a fore-
sight which they do not possess.

The safety of all species is that their Instinct
provides for the average season, — our protection
against many animals, that is, against their too abun-
dant increase, is that their Instinct fails to make
provision against the extremes of seasons. When
certain insects become abundant, it often happens

The Partridge. 12 1

that a single season rids us of the pest because their
Instinct fails to meet the exigency of the case.

The common Partridge, or Ruffed Grouse of our
forests, knows how to protect itself from severe
winter weather by plunging beneath the light snow.
Its Instinct leads it to take advantage of the non-con-
ducting power of the snow to sleep in warmth and
comfort, while the storm is raging above. This act
is beautiful in its relation to the welfare of the bird,
and shows that Instinct is here wiser in its action
than the Intelligence of some men, who perish from
cold when they might protect themselves perfectly
with a covering of snow. But while the Instinct of
the Partridge teaches her to protect herself from
the storm by plunging beneath the snow, it does
not teach her that the falling snow may turn to
rain and be succeeded by cold ; which sometimes
happens, so that the poor bird is imprisoned by the
hard crust, to die of hunger or be dug out by some
prowling fox that thus finds a Partridge ready trap-
ped for him. It is not uncommon to find the evi-
dence of such mistakes of Instinct, or want of in-
stinctive foresight, in our New England forests late
in winter. The Instinct of the bird which leads
her to seek protection in the snow, is upon the
whole,good. It contributes to the comfort and safe-
ty of the species, while it sometimes works injury to
the individual bird. This is another example of
the great law of nature, that there shall be a con-
stant struggle for existence — that no individual of
any species, can be perfectly protected against acci-
dents and early death ; and that Instinct itself,
6

122 histinct.

which is sometimes called '^ unerring," may be the
means of destroying its possessor, by the very agen-
cies which it calls into play to preserve him.

The power of some animals to find their homes
when carried from them under such conditions that
they cannot observe, and even to take a straight
course towards them, is generally acknowledged.
It is contended by some that the Carrier Pigeon is
guided by sight, while others deny it. While we
believe some animals have this instinctive power, it
is difficult to determine the facts in the case by ob-
servation. And if established, they would be only
one more illustration of the principle already consid-
ered, that animals have, as an original gift, all
those powers needed for their mode of life.

The many points in regard to which we are still
in doubt respecting the habits of our most common
animals, show that we still have need of Rubers and
Wilsons to study every species. Not only do our
story books, but our school books, abound in state-
ments that nature refuses to endorse. And learned
writers often trust to such unreliable statements, or
ignore the facts that contradict some favorite defi-
nition or theory. Fortunately for our purpose,
there are examples enough to illustrate every point
we wish to make, that are repeated from year to
year, so that they can be studied by every careful
observer.

In the manifestations of Instinct last considered
we see evident relation to the welfare of the indi-
vidual or the species to which it belongs. These
Instinctive powers give such ability to act as expe<

Necessity of Observation. 123

Hence might be supposed to give ; but the ability
being needed before it could be gained from expe-
rience, it appears as part of that outfit with which
the animal is sent into the world. But the princi-
ples of action in many of these cases, are of such a
nature that there is nothing in the organization of
the animal to suggest their existence. We learn
of their existence only by observation. There is
nothing in the structure of birds to indicate to us
with any certainty where they will build, or the
form of their nests. We know that the fowl gives
the cry of danger at the sight of the hawk, and that
its young seek cover at the alarm, because we have
seen the frightened brood thus guided by Instinct.
We readily see the wisdom of the thing, but it is
impossible to learn from the structure of the ani-
mal that it will perform these particular acts, as we
could infer from the talon and beak of a new spe-
cies of hawk that it would live on flesh, or from the
structure of the web-foot that its possessor would
seek the water.

Instincts that minister directly to the appetites,
are common to all animals as an absolute necessity
to them. They must act promptly, or individuals
must perish, until the species disappears.

Instincts that protect animals from their most
fatal enemies are common to many species, ready
to spring into action the instant the enemy is per-
ceived, even for the first time. And such an In-
stinct seems to be almost as essential to the preser-
vation of some species, as are the Instincts that
minister to the appetites.

1 24 Instinct.

It may not be out of place to refer in this con-
nection, to the bearing of some of the facts thus far
considered on the origin of these powers which an-
imals possess, as well as upon the origin of the spe-
cies themselves.

If we adopt the theory of transmitted skill
gained through the experience of previous genera-
tions, which has much that is plausible in its favor,
we are forced to the conclusion that there have
been ancestors of our wild animals of very great
ingenuity in devising and executing plans, and that
these ingenious beings have appeared in great num-
bers among the insects ; and we are also troubled
to see how the species, in many cases, contiaued
upon the earth till these ingenious beings appeared
whose wisdom and contrivance, inherited by their
descendants, seem now absolutely essential for the
continuance of the species from one generation to
another — in many cases, for their continuance for a
single year.

If we appeal to Natural Selection, as is now fre-
quently done, we have indeed a powerful agency
to work with ; but will it do the work we need to
have done? Natural Selection, granting all that is
claimed by those who invoke its aid for the solution
of all problems in regard to the habits and struc-
ture that characterize species of animals, — Natural
Selection is simply "• the preserving of the fittest ^ It
does not give a characteristic to any animal, but sim-
ply preserves him through the agency of some charac-
teristic which he already possesses. Natural Selec-
tion does not give to the animal the power to hi-

Hibernation. 125

bernate, for instance ; but the most it can do, is to
preserve those animals that already have this pow-
er in the greatest perfection. But in the conditions
of hibernation we find an exceedingly complicated
machinery for the preservation of animal life, vary-
ing much according to the species. There is a
chain of agencies of which Instinct is only one link.
Hibernating animals of the higher rank, feed upon
food that is abundant in the autumn. Their appe-
tite is then voracious, and fat accumulates to an un-
wonted degree. So far. Instinct has no part in the
work except in the procuring of food. But now it
comes in as chief actor, to impel and guide the ani-
mal in preparing a nest or retreat for his winter's
sleep. When this is done, function takes up the
entire work again, lessens the rate of breathing and
lowers the whole vital activity, so that the animal
lives for months without eating, and yet comes out
in good condition when nature has once more
spread a table for him. In the case of other ani-
mals, especially in the case of some reptiles and in-
sects, there is complete torpor. But in every case
we see these agencies. Instinct and Function, work-
ing together, or rather working in succession, each
supplementing the other.

It may be said that cold has a tendency to
lower vitality, and so by degrees these functional
changes are produced and the animal, or more strict-
ly the species, forms a habit which we call Instinct
But if we go to certain hot countries where great heat
and drought are combined, we find animals secre-
ting themselves by Instinct and becoming torpid in

1 26 Instinct.

summer, as they do with us in winter. The exact
counterpart of hibernation is there repeated under
entirely different conditions. Instinct is as perfect
in its work there as here. Its object in both coun-
tries is to aid in saving the animal when his food
fails and the extremes of climate are too severe for
him. It does its work well ; but it would utterly fail
in both hot and cold countries, if the functions of
the animals did not supplement it in producing
those remarkable changes in vital activity, render-
ing multitudes of animals here torpid in winter, and
there in summer. Instinct has not only to meet
these different conditions, but it must vary in both
places, in many ways, to meet the wants of different
species of animals. And in this whole work of hi-
bernation,— if it be proper to apply this term to the
change that occurs in hot countries, — in all this
work of hibernation, which is a wonder in itself, we
find Instinct true to its character as thus far traced,
as an agency spontaneous in its action supplement-
ing the physiological agencies, to preserve the indi-
vidual and species.

If now we claim that all these hibernating ani-
mals are what they are because Natural Selection
has been going on from age to age until only those
are left that Structure, Function and Instinct all
combining, have adapted to the conditions of the
world in the northern regions and under the equator,
the question still returns. How were the species pre-
served till these changes in action were all brought
into harmony with each other and with the world
without — until adaptations were secured that sin-

Natural Selection. 127

gly or in a long series, seem now essential to the very
existence of the species ?

Another question also arises ; how were the
changes which have resulted in these complex adap-
tations inaugurated ? If we refer all these results
to accidental changes accumulating in the right di-
rection, we confess it would be as easy for us to be-
lieve that the words of a book might be formed in
order by a series of accidental positions of type
thrown from a box. If we refer any of these nice
adjustments to the comprehension and contrivance
of animals in the first instance, then we are called
upon to recognize in the ancestors of the present
races a power of comprehension which these races
do not now possess — a comprehension equalling
that power in the best of the human species ; for
no man can claim that he could better adjust these
activities of the animal with the forces of the inor-
ganic world, than they are now adjusted. And
these adjustments were complete as they now are
before men could understand the work even.

And it must constantly be borne in mind that
to explain these results through the agency of Nat-
ural Selection, we must see how it could secure not
only all the difference of Instinct that there is in the
world, by the accumulation of changes all working
out a specific result, and the difference of form and
internal structure by like accumulated changes;
but we must see how it can secure all of these at
the same time, so as to produce the specific forms
in their wonderful variety and the specific instincts
in their complexity, and yet bring structure, func-

128 Instinct,

tion and Instinct to harmonize In every one of the
hundreds of thousands of species, — and each indi-
vidual, through these combined agencies, into the
best relations with the world in which it lives.

In addition to this, before we can accept Natur-
al Selection as the chief agency in the production
of species, we must see how all the species were
kept in existence while those slow changes were
taking place which now give the species character
and upon which their existence seems to depend.
The explanations of the best masters, after giving
them the benefit of every fact they present, leave
many, perplexing difficulties, in regard to such re-
lationships as we have already referred to. The
problem will become more difficult as we advance.
Some of its difficulties are well illustrated by the
examples under the next topic, —

The Relatio7t of histinct to special structure and
function.

If we accept Natural Selection as the means of
securing the special adaptations of Instincts and in-
struments which we see among animals, we must
grant that in every case, there was at the beginning,
an Instrument and an instinct to use it effectively ;
because an instrument without the corresponding
instinct would be of no advantage to the animal,
but a damage. Where we find special structures
or special functions and corresponding instincts, we
must grant the co-existence of both and the con-
joined action of both, before Natural Selection
could possibly have any influence to preserve either

TJie Rattle-Snake, 129

of them in the species, or the species themselves
through their action.

Without attempting, at this point, to discuss the
questions that might arise as to the origin of the
conjoined structure, function and Instinct, we pro-
ceed to call attention to a few facts that illustrate
the subject, and at least show more fully than has
thus far been done, the diversity of action of the
instinctive principle, and also how Instinct supple-
ments structure and function of organs, in higher
planes of action than the mere securing of food.

We take as our first illustration that dreaded
reptile the Rattle-snake. We here find, first, the
grooved or perforated fang, — its point sharpened
like a chisel, on the most approved principles. This
instrument is folded away when not in use, but un-
sheathed and in position the instant it is needed.
As the tooth grew, all the straps and springs need-
ful for its most effective use grew with it. At its
base grows a gland secreting a deadly poison ; and
the opening of that gland is through the hollow
tooth. When the tooth makes its wound, the same
motion that drives it home, injects the poison. The
whole machinery is perfect. Structure and function
both agree in a complicated but perfect manner.
The result of their combined action, is death to the
victim. Now comes in the third element which we
call Instinct, guiding the voluntary action of the
snake. The tooth and the poison would have no
terror for us, were it not that the snake will strike
and do it effectively without instruction !

But the rattle of this reptile is another peculiar

130 Instinct,

contrivance related to its Instinct. The rattle gives
a note of warning to animals. It is of no apparent
use to the snake, as it ought to be according to the
Natural Selection theory ; but, on the other hand, it
is likely to bring death to its possessor by giving
notice to its enemies of his presence. If the rattle
is beneficial to the snake, it appears when least need-
ed, for when the snake is young and most likely to
be injured by its enemies, it has no rattle. The
rattles grow as the fangs grow, that make him dan-
gerous to other animals and to man. We find this
instrument of warning and the Instinct to use it
given to this snake that, on account of its great
numbers and wide distribution, would be exceeding-
ly dangerous without them.

In this reptile then we have the perforated tooth
with all its complicated adjustments, the deadly
poison to accompany it, the rattle to give w^arning
as he becomes dangerous to other animals, and an
Instinct to bring into effective action all these spe-
cial structures and functions.

In the Bee and Wasp and Hornet, we have the
instrument for defence, the poisonous secretion and
the Instinct to render them effective. But in the
Honey-bee, we have much more than these provis-
ions for defence. Its Instinct leads it to store hon-
ey for use in winter. We pass now the complicated
but special apparatus that enables the Bee to gather
the honey, to consider the conditions that enable
her to store it. After being gorged with honey,
she secretes scales of wax under the rings of the
body. This substance, essential to the economy of

Bees — \ Vasps — Hornets. 131

the bee-hive, is not produced by any work of In-
stinct but by a pecuhar function of the body
Those scales of wax the Bee softens, undoubtedly,
by another peculiar secretion ; and then fashions
them into a cell that has challenged the admiration
of the world.

Let us trace this process through. There is an
Instinct for gathering honey and, answering to it,
an instrument just fitted for drawing it up from the
nectaries of flowers. There is also a sack for hold-
ing it and for producing certain changes in it.
There is an Instinct for storing this honey and a
substance secreted that can be molded into cells to
hold it. There are instruments given for using the
substance to the best possible advantage, and In-
stinct to guide in the best use of both instruments
and the substance. Instinct comes in at the proper
place to link all these agencies together. Let a
single link be wanting and all other parts of the
chain are useless as a means of preserving the spe-
cies. And complicated as this whole process is, it is
only a part of the connected series of functional and
instinctive adjustments absolutely essential to Hon-
ey-bee life, as the species now exists.

Among the Wasps and Hornets that build nests
and cells of woody fibre, we might trace out the re-
lation of Instinct to structure and function, showing
results almost as curious as those already consider-
ed. In fact, instances almost without number can
be given in every department of the animal king-
dom where structure and function, either separately
or combined, are joined with an Instinct that gives

132 Instinct.

them their whole value in securing the welfare of
their possessor.

Among spiders w^e find, perhaps, the best il-
lustrations of the great diversity of the results pro-
duced by the joint action of these three agencies,
in animals very nearly allied. A whole lecture
might be given in showing the varied uses to which
different species of spiders put this web-making se-
cretion which is common to nearly the whole spider
tribe. We have webs of a multitude of forms —
fine threads, as treacherous snares — curious nests
lined with satin, and homes beneath the water ; be-
sides sacks and covers, from the thinness of gauze
to the thickness of paper, to protect their eggs and
young. The problem does not seem to be ; In how
few ways can Instinct avail itself of function to pro-
vide for the family of spiders ? but rather. In how
great a multiplicity of methods ? — as though diver-
sity were the object aimed at ; and yet each meth-
od would challenge our admiration, if all spiders in
the world were found using that alone.

In this connection we cannot fail to notice the
relation of Instinct to form and color.

It is well known that many wild animals corres-
pond in color very closely to the coloring of the
earth and herbage where they live. Among the
higher animals, especially among birds, every care-
ful observer has noticed that many of them seek
those places where their colors will best harmonize
with the surrounding objects. The Grouse, already
referred to, so closely resembles in color the with-

Color and Form, 133

ered leaves among which she places her nest, that
the keenest eye seldom discovers her. Though one
of the wildest of birds, she settles herself upon the
nest and seems to trust in the deceiving power of
her feathers, and so remains quiet until the foot of
the intruder is almost upon her.

The Ptarmigan Grouse of Greenland and the
Sage-hen of our Rocky Mountains are both beauti-
ful examples of what the united action of color and
Instinct can do to protect the bird. I have fre-
quently seen both of these birds light, and yet have
been entirely unable to distinguish them from the
surrounding vegetation until some movement of
the bird aided the eye. There is also change of
color from summer to winter and the instincts of
the animal are in harmony with these changes for
its welfare.

But it is among insects that this correlation
between form and color and Instinct, is most readi-
ly observed and most wonderful. There are insects
that simulate leaves so closely that they deceive
careful observers. Mr. Wallace gives an interesting
account* of insects that imitate, in their structure
and color, decaying and diseased leaves. And In-
stinct here aids in the work of deception ; for these
insects fasten themselves upon limbs in such places
and in such positions as withered leaves would nat-
urally be found in. A spidert is also found, accord-
ing to the same author, that resembles a bud in
appearance, and his natural place of concealment is

Natural Selection," pp. 59-61. t ^' P- ^9.

1 34 Instinct.

in the axil of a leaf, just where a bud would be
found.

But every observer of our own insects has seen
among them examples of this correlation of In-
stinct with form and color. Some of our caterpil-
lars have the color and form of short sticks. They,
in case of danger, fasten themselves upon a limb
and extend the body so that men and birds are
both deceived ; so completely do color, form and
position mimic a dry stub upon the bush. The cu-
rious thing is, no matter now how it has been se-
cured, that Instinct should come in among butter-
flies, spiders, caterpillars and hosts of other animals
to complete the work of deception, which is begun
by color and form, simulating the common appear-
ance of leaves in all their changes and flowers and
buds and sticks.

In every step that we have taken in this investi-
gation, we have found Instinct becoming a part of
a more complex system of agencies, but still filling
a place which function of organs alone could not
possibly fill — securing results that might be obtain-
ed through experience and instruction by some an-
imals if there were any way to provide for the con-
tinuance of the race of animals until experience
could be gained. But in the case of those animals
that could possibly learn by experience, something
must go before it. There must be impulse and so
much of guidance as to preserve the animal till ex-
perience can come to his rescue. But with many
animals knowledge from experience is impossible,

Seventeen-year Locust. 135

because there is occasion for performing the most
important acts only once in a hfetime, and that too
under such conditions as to make it impossible that
the actors should learn from others. In such cases
we find Instinct ever ready to do its work — a work
sometimes so complex as to require careful study
on the part of man to understand it. This point
can perhaps be made plain by a single illustration.
The Cicada or Seventeen-year Locust is so called
because it appears only once in seventeen years.
The insects deposit their eggs in the limbs of trees
and die. The young grubs find their way to the
earth and there mine in the dark for seventeen
years, when they come forth for their few days of
life in the sunlight. When they come out they
are to deposit their eggs and do all the work which
their ancestors did seventeen years before. They
do the work but once in a lifetime, but every move-
ment goes on in perfect order, as though experience
and instruction both had done their perfect work
on beings capable of comprehension. They copy
exactly the work done by their ancestors seventeen
years before, when they themselves existed only in
the eggs.

We have thus far found Instinct as meeting the
demands of appetite — as protecting its possessor
from special enemies, and as taking its place, with
color and form and function, as a higher agency for
preserving the hfe of the individual and the species.
We have found nothing yet to indicate that it is an
entity, a thing by itself, as it is often represented to
be, — a possession which animals have in common.

136 Instinct,

It seems rather to consist of a summation of spon-
taneous activities which animals possess in different
measure and of different kinds, according to the
sphere they are to occupy.

LECTURE VI.

INSTINCT FOR COMMUNITIES OF ANIMALS. — ITS
RELATION TO THE DOCTRINE OF NATURAL SE-
LECTION.

Illustrations of the Community System.— TJu Cow-bird.— Three kinds
belonging to the same species. — Necessity for slaves among Ants. —
The brood or annual flock. — Permanent organization. — Leaders. —
Sentinels.— Pelicans of Utah Lake.— The Beaver.— Morgan' s
Work.— The Rank of the Beaver.— The Muskrat.— Variation of
Instinct necessary. — Complexity of work no proof of Intelligence . —
Consideration of theories. — Accumulated work of Intelligence. — In-
stinct like it, in effect. — The Homy-bee. — Bumble-bees and Wasps. —
Slave- Ants. — Darwin's Explanation. — Difficulties. — Natural Se-
lection and Variation not sufficient. — Wallace on Natural Selec-
tion applied to man.

In almost every manifestation of Instinct thus far
introduced, the act has been one for the preserva-
tion of the individual or species, but such as the in-
dividual could perform for itself. A single pair at
most, caring for their young, in all their instinctive
acts would represent not only so many individuals
but the species as a whole.

We began, however, to see the introduction of
another principle, when we found adults uniting in
action to aid each other ; one species of birds even
calling to their aid others, of different species, against
a common enemy. And when we found a system
of instinctive acts, by which alarm-notes are sounded

138 Instinct,

by birds for the benefit of their fellows, and safety
thus secured to the flock, we began to see the
community system, which prevails extensively in
the animal kingdom and gives rise to very distinct
and complex manifestations of Instinct.

When the community system becomes promi-
nent, a single animal, or a single pair, often be-
comes a very imperfect representative of the spe-
cies, if we wish to study the whole work of Instinct.
Individuality is lost in the machinery of the com-
munity. And so far does this system prevail among
some species, that a single male and female cannot
possibly care for their young. In more than one
case the species could not possibly exist without the
aid of individuals from other species. In such cases,
the dependent species have an Instinct to secure
the services of other laborers and thus supplement
their own defects.

In the case of the Cow-bird, already referred to,
the species would perish were it not for the work
of other birds in hatching and feeding the young
Cow-bird. But so far as we can judge, this defect-
ive care of the Cow-bird for her offspring arises en-
tirely from the action of its Instinct, — defective ac-
tion when taken by itself, but effective when we
consider its relation to the Instinct of other birds
whose work it secures. We see nothing in the or-
ganization of the bird to prevent it from nesting
and rearing its brood like other birds. But lower
in the scale of being, we find three kinds of animals
belonging to the same species — the males, females
and neuters — all needful for carrying on the work

Flocks, 139

of life. And in some communities of Ants, the in
dividuals of another species are needed to make the
system perfect. That is, the first species could not
exist at all were it not that their Instinct enables
them to supplement their own defects by making
slaves of individuals from other species able to do
their work for them. We announced in the begin-
ning of these lectures that we should make no at-
tempt to collect and rehearse the wonders of In-
stinct. Our object is to bring up for consideration
those examples of instinctive action known to every
Naturalist, or such as all persons may see if they
choose to. We are therefore compelled to refer
briefly to points that might be illustrated by many
examples.

There are among animals certain instincts that
either grow out of the relation of the sexes or are
indirectly connected with it. Thus we have the
flock or brood for a single season, or so long as the
young need the parents' care. This Instinct is an
entirely different thing from that which prevails in
the community proper, which ministers to the good
both of the individual and of the species, not
through any relation of the sexes or of parents to
their young necessarily, but by the organization of
a complex community of adults that may have no
relationship to each other except that they belong
to the same species. The simplest form of such
communities is found among common birds and
beasts that associate in flocks. These, as Sheep,
Antelopes, Crows and Pigeons, might do very well
as individuals ; and a single pair can, not only, care

140 Instinct,

for their young without aid from others, but at the
time of rearing young, the flock is generally broken
up, each pair caring for its own. It is after the
breeding season is over and the young are able to
shift for themselves, that flocks and herds are form-
ed among many of the social birds and beasts.
This may, in some cases, be done simply from love
of society. Here the work of Instinct seems to be
simply to increase enjoyment. But in very many
cases, perhaps ultimately in all, there is a certain
organization of the flock ; and that organization
is made in some way subservient to the welfare of
the individuals, as such. The most simple case of
united action, is in following a leader. There seems
to be, in flocks of animals of various kinds, some in-
dividual that leads either in migration or in de-
fence. This leader is generally the most powerful
male of the flock. But another advantage to the
individual, from the flock organization, is seen in
the selection of sentinels, that are posted to give
warning, while the others feed. Among common
fowls, each one is ready to give warning of danger ;
but among many wild animals there is often coop-
eration according to a system, and a very excellent
system too. Crows and Pigeons may be seen watch-
ing upon the trees, while their fellows feed in the
meadow. At the approach of danger, these senti-
nels raise the alarm which is the signal understood
by every one of their mates. Those that watch in
the beginning, are from time to time relieved, while
others mount guard in their places. It is impossi-
ble to tell how it is arranged, that the distribution

Care of Young, 141

of labor shall be just ; but a careful watching of the
flocks, shows that there is a regular system for
change of sentinels.

Major Stansbury* gives us an account of the
young Pelicans at Utah Lake being watched over
by one old Pelican, while the others v/ere engaged
in fishing. Each sentinel or guard, was regularly
relieved, in turn, by another taking her place.
Here the community system was introduced among
these birds for the purpose of caring for their young.
But as he found one old Pelican, though blind and
unable to fish for himself, still sleek and apparently
well cared for by his fellows, it is fair to infer that
the community system, among these birds, secures
to some extent, mutual aid among adults.

I have myself seen something of this communi-
ty of action, in the care of young, among the Arctic
Tern on the coast of Greenland. One little grassy
island, that I had the opportunity of watching for
eight days, was entirely occupied by Tern. They
made no nests, but deposited their eggs among the
grass. The island fairly swarmed with their young,
from those just out of the shell to those of full size,
ready to fly. The old birds made common cause
against any intruder ; and it was settled by obser-
vation, that they did not always feed their own
young. Three different adults were seen feeding
the same young bird that had been placed upon a
rock by himself. All the young seemed to be well
cared for ; but how the favors of the old birds were

* Ex. Doc, No. 3 Senate, Sp. Sess. 1851.

142 Instinct.

properly distributed, among such a scrambling mul-
titude of young, is a mystery.

As a farther illustration of the advantage to the
individual, from the community, we have animals
that build together and enter upon extensive works
for the common good. The Beaver is generally con-
sidered as the best example of animals of this kind,
— at least among the vertebrates. There is hardly
an animal on the globe that offers more curious
instinctive habits for study ; and hardly one that
has been more misrepresented in our popular works.
The wonderful instincts of the Beaver, make up an
interesting part of those story books where fact and
fiction are mingled together ; though the facts, if
fully stated, would be more wonderful than any
fiction.

The world is indebted to Mr. Lewis H. Morgan,
of New York, for a work on the Beaver, that is a
model for all to study, who would investigate the
habits of any animal. He has swept away a mass
of rubbish that we used to be taught ; and has sub-
stituted in its place the plain facts gathered by
years of personal observation among Beaver-dams
and lodges. He not only describes what he has
seen, but he brings before us copies of Beavers'
works, by photographing them as they are found.

His facts are reliable — his speculations based
upon those facts may, of course, be accepted or re-
jected by any one, according to his estimate of the
proof presented to establish each point.

Mr. Morgan grants that the Beaver is a social
animal, but he denies that Beavers work as organ-

The Beaver, 143

ized colonies, as it has generally been supposed
they do. He seems to think that they work as
families ; but that each family is quite distinct in all
its works from every other family around the pond.
He supposes that a Beaver-dam Is generally begun
by a single pair, and that it grows by the labors of
all the Beavers inhabiting the pond in after years ;
but that each Beaver works by himself, in making
the additions or repairs, except where a great inju-
ry calls many to work at the same time. Then
they do not come as an organization under leaders,
but each does the best he can. He certainly
makes out a very clear case of the community sys-
tem, so far as the inmates of a single lodge are con-
cerned ; — and the impression is left on some minds
that there is something like concerted action on
the part of all the families, inhabiting a pond, for
the preservation of the dam. Certain It Is, that
members of each lodge do their part of the work,
whether they do it in concert with the others or
not ; and they do it in such a manner that the re-
sult is the same as that of organized action. We
find dams, and lodges, and burrows for escape.
There is a straight entrance to the lodge for the in-
troducing of wood, and an abrupt entrance with
winding channels, for the- escape of the occupants,
in case of danger. There is the cutting of timber,
sometimes of trees two feet in diameter. Wood Is
stored up beneath the waters for winter food ; but
how it is kept under the water, no one can yet tell
with certainty. The refuse wood, after the bark Is
removed, is preserved for repairing the lodges and

£44 Instinct,

dams. In fact, the whole social economy of a Bea-
ver colony, is as perfect as though they worked by
an organization like that of the hive-bee ; and the
facts as detailed by Mr. Morgan, are certainly as
wonderful as any fictitious story of Beaver sagacity
ever printed. When we read the book we wish
that every animal had such a historian ; that we
might know something more of this world of ours
than we do, and have reliable materials when we
wish to investigate any question respecting the
habits of the beings around us.

' But when our author begins to speculate in re-
gard to the mental powers of the Beaver, we feel
called upon to dissent from many of his conclusions,
while accepting the facts that he uses, as estab-
lished.

After acknowledging that the Beaver stands very
low in his physical organization, he ranks him very
high in Intelligence, on account of the complexity
of his works and their adaptation to his wants.
And by intelligence here is meant simply the pow-
er in the actor, of comprehending means as securing
an end desirable and good for himself, in all his re-
lations; in distinction from that voluntary action
that secures the same kind of good for the actor,
where comprehension on his part, is plainly out of
the question. The same course of reasoning, by
which the power of comprehension is ascribed to
the Beaver, on account of the complexity of his
works and their adaptation to his wants, would
place the Honey-bee high in the scale of free intel-
ligence. There is, indeed, more variation in the

Uniformity of the work. 145

work of the Beaver to meet different conditions of
life, than the Honey-bee is called upon to exhibit.
But the uniformity, with which Beavers do their
work in any given place, and their uniform change
of method under different conditions, seem to point
to that variation of the instinctive principle, to
v/hich we have already referred, rather than to free
intelligence, — a variation no greater than is found
even in the growth of plants, to adapt them to dif-
ferent conditions of Hfe, but which, because in ani-
mals it is connected with volition, is very likely to
be regarded as a sufficient proof of comprehension in
the actor.

The Muskrat, which is nearly allied to the Bea-
ver, has the same sort of variation in his habits to
meet the conditions where he is placed. But the
variation is so uniform that the animal is plainly
under some guiding power which is to him a law of
action. Muskrats, whose ancestors have for gener-
ations burrowed in the banks of the stream, will at
once begin to build houses, if a dam is raised so
that they can no longer burrow. And those houses
will be built like all other Muskrat houses, the world
over. That is, there will be that generic likeness
which shows that the lodge is built under the im-
pulse and guidance of some principle entirely dif-
ferent from the power of comprehension and con-
trivance, seen among men. Since it is impossible
that all animals of the same species should find
places exactly alike to build in, the impulse and
guidance, which for a better name we call Instinct,
would be folly itself, if it did not vary sufficiently
7

146 Instijict.

to meet the conditions of the case, under all ordi-
nary circumstances. Therefore on the theory that
Beavers are guided by an Instinct that directs with-
out intelligent comprehension,on their part,of means
and ends, it is not strange that their houses grow
thicker and larger as they grow older ; and that
repairs and changes are made as the number of occu-
pants increase. The uniformity in the character
of their work, under similar conditions, is certainly
in favor of the theory of guidance by Instinct.
And the ver}'- complexity of the works, upon which
Mr. Morgan bases his argument for the high rank
of the beaver in free, self-conscious Intelligence, we
regard as an argument against it, because we have
complexity with such uniformity. In proving In-
telligence to be the controlling agency in contriving
and carrying out all these complex works, he
seems to prove too much. For if we refer all the
works of the Beaver to Intelligence, of the same
kind as man possesses, we must concede to him
abilities very nearly, if not quite equal to those of
man, for planning such works. For he would be a
wise man that, having only the Beaver's instruments
to work with, could do his work. In fact all his
works, that we do understand, we approve of as the
best that could be done, even by us, to reach the
same ends ; and he does some things that the wisest
man does not yet know how to do. There is com-
plexity and uniformity under similar conditions,
— variation in the work of the whole species when
the circumstances demand it, and yet under all these
conditions, a uniform method of adapting means to

Question of Origin. 147

ends in the best manner. If all this comes from
Intelligence in the actor, he is certainly of high
rank.

Among all the animals thus far mentioned, the
community might be considered an entirely acci-
dental thing; though in this case, the organization
of the community, manifested in the appointment
of sentinels and the notes of alarm, must be consid-
ered the complicated mechanism of Instinct in
many, working together for the good of the indi-
viduals composing the community; or, if the or-
ganization be regarded as the outgrowth of expe-
rience and the result of contrivance to meet the
exigencies of the community, we must be ready to
concede to all these animals as well as to the Bea-
ver, a high degree of Intelligence and the power of
adapting means to ends as perfectly as is ever done
among men for such purposes ; and we must also grant
them high powers of generalization and induction
and as plain principles of prudence, as men ordina-
rily manifest. Nor does it change the question to
say that this provision made by flocks is now me-
chanical, but the result of habits acquired gradual-
ly long ago under conditions of danger and need.
If there is found among any species of social ani-
mals an organization by which, as a community,
they are provided for or guarded against danger by
sentinels and signals, which can be referred to their
Intelligence at all, as a system marked out by them
from the comprehension and adoption of a plan,
then that plan was worked out by the flock which
we see before us, or it was worked out by some in-

148 Insthict.

dividual of that flock and impressed upon the oth*
ers by a system of instruction, or it was worked out
at some time, by some ancestors of the present flock,
and continued till it became a habit of the whole
species to operate according to this plan. A thing
must be done for the first time before it can become
a habit ; and it must be often repeated, before it
can become a habit for the individual even ; and
much longer before the habit could become heredi-
tary, if at all. So that the doctrine that Instinct
is formed through the influence of the experiences
and habits of ancestors, only removes the difficulty
one step farther back. Nor does it change the
matter to say that the result we now see is the ef-
fect of minute changes brought about through
great cycles. Each change was a step, and when
the process was complete through many steps, it
represented the same powers in the species as
though the steps had been taken in a generation.
A cotton-mill is the result of great experience con-
tinued through many generations of men ; and it
also represents the contrivance of hosts of men in
the present and past ages to meet the wants which
experience suggested. But the cotton-mill to day,
is as truly a product of human thought, as though
the present generation had built one now for the
first time. And the first machine invented showed
the same kind of power in the inventor as the last
and most complicated. So we say that these
manifestations of Instinct among social animals,
taken as a whole, or divided into the greatest num-
ber of steps possible, must be the result of impulse

Commufiities. 149

and guidance given to animals just as we now see
them manifested, or they show the same high pow-
ers in kind, in the animal, as the man possesses who
studies them and approves of them as the perfec-
tion of wisdom for the individual animal and the
flock.

But we now come to consider certain social ani-
mals that cannot exist, except as communities.
There is, in some species, such difference in struc-
ture and function and Instinct in individuals of the
same communities, that there is a division of labor
marked out and made necessary by the very nature
of these individuals. The peculiarities found in
some species that make the organization of the com-
munity most efficient, are destructive to isolated
individual life.

Of such animals, the Honey-bee is a good ex-
ample and the best known. We have in this spe-
cies, the Queen-mother, the drones or males, and
the workers; in the latter of which there is no
power of reproduction. Without the Queen-moth-
er there could be no continuance of the species, as
she alone produces all the eggs for the swarming
hive. The Queen and the drone, it would seem,
would alone be sufficient to secure the continuance
of the species. But not so ; for they do not even
collect honey for themselves, to say nothing of
their numerous progeny. To complete the organ-
ization of the hive, there must be another class, the
workers, which shall collect food and do all the
work of building for themselves, the Queen and
young. The conditions for an organized commu-

1 50 Ifistifut.

nity are now complete. The great mass of individ-
uals in the hive, gain their reputation for industry
by working for the common good, — for Queen and
drone and young, — as well as for themselves. And
to this complicated organization, the instincts of
each individual are adjusted, so that each performs
its part, as each organ of the body performs its of-
fice, or each official would perform his part in a per-
fectly organized kingdom.

Among Bumble-bees and Wasps we find differ-
ent kinds of individuals in the same community
as in the Honey-bee hive, but these communities
continue only a single season. The fertile females
alone survive the rigors of winter, while the multi-
tude die and the old nests are deserted never again
to be inhabited. These mothers, that are to preserve
the species, hide away in secure resting-places, till
spring calls them forth to commence alone the
founding of new colonies.

Different species of the common Ant, as well
as the so called White Ant, afford marked illustra-
tions of this diversity of structure, function and In-
stinct in members of the same species, for the good
of the community.

It has been known since the time of Huber the
younger, that some species of Ants make slaves of
the neuters of other species. The Red Ants of
Europe {Forjuica rufescens) not only make slaves
of the Brown Ants {Formica fused) ^ but are entirely
dependent upon them, being utterly unable to take
care of themselves. We here see a need so imper-
ative that this whole species of Ants would die in

Darzvins Theory. 151

a single year without the Instinct of making slaves
and what would their slaves be worth if they had
not the Instinct to do the work ? And yet they
are always fresh importations and, being neuters,
have no power to reproduce their kind and trans-
mit the habit of being a slave, as an Instinct.

Darwin has acknowledged all these facts in his
work on the origin of species."^ With his accus-
tomed thoroughness, he set himself to verify the
statements of other Entomologists by his own ob-
servations. After satisfying himself of the facts, he
goes resolutely at work to make this state of things
appear consistent with his theory ; though he con-
fesses that at first it seemed fatal to it. After a
careful examination of his arguments to show that
all these differences might have been secured by Nat-
ural Selection, we are compelled to say that not only
does he seem to fail in fairly meeting the objections
that he himself acknowledges to lie against his
theory, in these phenomena of social insects, but
many more objections and more perplexing, must
arise in the mind of every naturalist who has so far
studied the facts in the case, as to be able to fairly
bring them to the test of Mr. Darwin's theory ; or
rather to test the theory by them.

Mr. Darwin thinks the wonderful Instinct of the
Honey-bee, by which it builds cells that he ac-
knowledges could not be improved upon, might be
accounted for in this way.f The making of wax
takes a great deal of honey ; and so it would come

* " Origin of Species," 5tli Am. Ed., pp. 325-332.
\ Ibid., pp. 333, 324.

152 Instinct,

to pass that those swarms of bees which build with
the least wax, would have most honey left for win-
ter, and so be most likely to live. The best build-
ers would in this way, be preserved, while all the
poor builders would, in time, die off.

Here it will be observed that the theory does
not go back far enough to account for the whole
case. At most, it simply offers an explanation
of the preservation of those swarms made up of
the best builders. But we want to know how
the bee became a builder at all? and how the In-
stinct to build cells and the function of secreting
wax fitted for the work, began together ; and how
the Honey-bee got along before it had either the
function or the Instinct, both of which now seem
essential to its very existence ? Then we have also
to observe that it is the neuter bees that secrete
the wax and build the cells ; and since these neuter
bees are sterile, the characteristics they possess and
the skill they acquire, cannot be transmitted. All
the bees that build cells and gather honey, have de-
scended for thousands of years, at least, from pa-
rents that never did any thing of the kind.

Now this, Mr. Darwin would probably say, is a
case of correlation.* That is, it is true the parents
do not do these things, but these powers of the
neuters are so correlated to the needs of the com-
munity, that the whole species become good builders
by Natural Selection, because those swarms alone
are preserved where such neuters are produced as get
along with little wax and consequently with little

* " Origin of Species," 5th Am. Ed., pp. 227, 228.

Selection Theory applied, 153

loss of honey. He makes his explanation of the
existence of the Instinct that constructs hexagonal
cells, all turn on the fact that the bees must live
over the winter.

But let us consider the work of the Wasps in
the light of this theory. They do not use up honey
in making their cells, and they do not live over the
winter, so that Natural Selection has no chance to
preserve the best builders through any such means
as might be urged in the case of the Honey-bee.
The Wasps perish every fall, excepting a few fertile
females that desert the nest and live in some hiding-
place, as we have before explained, to commence
the new colonies the next year; and yet several
species of Wasps and Hornets build six-sided cells,
like the Honey-bee.

There is nothing here that aids at all, in the
selection theory, even as Mr. Darwin has attempted
to apply it to the Honey-bee.* Both of the means
through which he attempts to show that Natural
Selection acts in saving skilful builders, — the saving
of honey in making cells of the best pattern and
the necessity of the honey so saved, for winter use,
— are here wanting ; and yet the Wasps are as skil-
ful mathematicians as though the existence of the
species depended upon the angle of the cell !

The plain truth is, we .have Bees and Wasps
building in many different ways. Each method is
connected with a peculiar structure and a whole
train of Instincts. Besides, the whole doctrine of
correlation, that seems to be solely relied upon to
* " Origin of Species," 5tli Am. Ed., pp. 323, 224.

154 Instinct.

explain the perfection of the different kinds of in-
sects found in such communities as we have described,
has no sort of application to the slave Ants. They
do their work perfectly, supplementing the defect-
ive organization and Instincts of their masters ; but
they are neuters, and never reproduce their kind !
and the communities from which they are stolen can-
not be affected in any way by the stealing of their
young, so as to cause them to produce this remark-
able set of slaves just fitted in structure and Instinct
to do the work which their captors must have done
for them, in order to live.

While acknowledging the powerful influence of
Natural Selection in preserving the fittest, if we
were called upon to work out a problem in creation
that should make the belief in the origin of species
by Natural Selection impossible, we should be un-
able to suggest a single change in the relation of
the social insects as a whole, that would make a
stronger case against such an origin of the species
than we have in the relations now existing in many
of the communities already considered. These re-
lations seem to us more opposed to the theory of
origin of species through selection, than any thing
found in the physical organization of man even ;
and in reference to the human species, Mr. Wallace,
one of the originators of the theory, acknowledges
that it fails to satisfy him fuUy."^

There is no dispute about the facts — no dispute
about the fact of variation, no dispute about the
important influence of Natural Selection. But that
* " Natural Selection," pp. 33^350.

Accidental Variation. 155

any given result in animal life, such as is seen in
the complex societies of social insects, can be accom-
plished by these agencies working even for untold
ages, does not follow. Some results may follow,
but they must be such as these agencies have some
competency to produce ; and we must have some
reasonable account of the origin of certain elements
of the animal economy, as well as of their modifi-
cation. But it is asked at once, If you grant "acci-
dental variation" *and indefinite periods of time for
the work of selection, have you not the elements
of working out any supposable result ? We answer,
No. We can understand that a painter by throw-
ing his sponge, in anger or desperation, upon his
picture, might accidentally paint the foam upon the
mouth of the dog with a naturalness that his pencil
had failed to give. We can believe that this has
been done. But now if we were told that a picture,
like one of Landseer's or Rosa Bonheur's, could be
made by throwing paint sponges against a canvas
an indefinite number of times, we should not be-
lieve it ; even if the experiment could be tried every
day for millions of years. And although we can

* We use the words " accidental variation," to signify any
change that may occur in an organic being under new condi-
tions— any change not specially provided for in his plan of de-
velopment— any change by which individuals depart from the
normal type of the species. It is in this way that we under-
stood Mr. Darwin to use the words, and in the same way, we
understand Mr, Wright to use them, in his defence of Darwin,
written since these Lectures were delivered. (North Am, Rev.,
July 1871.) No one who understands Mr. Darwin, would accuse
him of using the word " accidental " in any such sense as to
imply any denial of causality.

156 Instinct.

readily believe that type might be so thrown by
accident as to form a word, we could not on that
account believe that a single page could be printed
in that way, making an intelligent story, even if the
experiment could be tried every day for a geolog-
ic age. If it is said we ought to believe in such
results, from the elements of variation and indefi-
nite time, we cannot help it. We are satisfied that
with the same data to rely upon, all men will not
reach the same conclusions. It is possible that this
may be partly the result of training, and it may
arise from a constitutional difference among men
in weighing proof. Probably we shall have to wait
a long time for Natural Selection to give us a race
of men, who shall have powers of observation and
reasoning so nearly alike, that they shall all reach
the same results on such subjects. In the mean
time, it becomes every one, who treats of such sub-
jects at all, to make sure of his facts, to meekly fol-
low any theory sustained by the facts, and resolute-
ly oppose any, that seems to him inconsistent with
them.

LECTURE VII.

INSTINCT CONNECTED WITH THE PARENTAL RELA-
TION.—AS DEMANDING CERTAIN CHANGES IN
OTHER ANIMALS AND PLANTS.— AS A LAW FOR
THE ANIMAL.— AS SUBJECT TO VARIATION.

Effect of Parental Instinct.— Completes its course.— Disturbed by
Domesticatio7t.— Answering Instinct of the young.— Correlation
of the three kingdoms of Nature.— Hibernation.— Gall-flies.— Ich-
neumon-flies. — Bot-fly. — Tent-moth. — Oak-pruners. — Borer.—
Preservation of the fittest.— Instinct as a Law.— Uniformity
among Animals.— Periodicity and Self -regulating power of the
Appetites.— Instinct can be deceived.— Follows the impression of the
senses.— Variation of Instinct.— Production of varieties.— Defini-
tion of an Instinct, and of Instinct as a general term.

We have already referred, incidentally, to some of
the manifestations of Instinct connected with the
parental relation. But there is in this relation, so
much of antagonism to common instincts, as to
make it worthy of separate consideration.

In many cases, the character of the animal,
while it has young, seems to be entirely changed.
Often the most timid animals become brave in de-
fence of their offspring, and the welfare of the indi-
vidual is sacrificed for the good of the species. We
may announce it as the general law of all the in-
stincts connected with the reproduction of young,
that they are exercised at the expense of the indi-

158 Instinct,

vidual. In the case of some of the lower animals,
as insects, this effect is so marked that death almost
immediately follows, after provision has been made
for the continuance of the species. And among
mammals of every grade, not only is the production
of young a draft upon the animal pOAvers, but the
maintenance and defence ofthe young, lead animals
to encounter many dangers, to which they would
not otherwise be exposed. The instinctive love of
life, even, is often held in abeyance, by the instinct-
ive love of offspring ; so that animals expose them-
selves to death, in defence of their young.

This instinct, that leads to the care ofthe young,
continues in full force while they need the care.
But in the case of some animals, that have been
carefully observed, it has been found that there
comes a time, when this instinct is reversed, so to
speak, — when the mother will drive from her the
young, which, a few days before, she would have
risked her life in defence of. It is interesting to
see the entire change that takes place, sometimes,
in a single day. As long as the hen appears with
ruffled feathers and an angry sounding cluck, she
is ready to fight for her chickens ; but all of a sud-
den, her feathers are smooth, her voice changes
from the cluck to a musical note ; and then she
fiercely drives her young from her. Her Instinct
has now completed its round. Every peculiar in-
stinct of motherhood appeared, as the production
of young and their protection required it. Each
one appeared in connection with certain bodily
functions, over which she had no control. When

Influence of Domestication. 159

the functions ceased, the special Instincts ceased
with them. Her Instinct Is, henceforth, exercised
in the constant labor of self-protection and self-sup-
port, till a new round of duties begin, with the mak-
ing of a new nest.

In the unnatural conditions under which many
of our domestic animals are kept, this Instinct, that
leads to the production and care of young, is appar-
ently modified, or kept in abeyance, by some
stronger instinct or change of function, that we do
not understand. Certain animals, as Elephants and
Eagles, never produce young while under the con-
trol of man ; and in other cases, certain instincts,
that continue to act to some extent, are weakened
and rendered Irregular In their action ; as in the
case of fowls, which produce eggs, but never brood ;
and sheep that will not own their young.

When we consider how dependent Instinct is
upon function, and know how domestication inter-
feres with the natural habits of animals, and also
that the selection exercised by man, often comes
in to secure conditions of life that never would oc-
cur under the Influence of Natural Selection, we
shall be prepared to find many seeming anomalies
of Instinct among our domestic animals. These
anomalies may give us important information, as
to the original habits of these animals, or as to the
plasticity of their natures in the hand of man.
There is now, in Natural History, no more Inter-
esting field of observation than that offered by our
domestic animals, — no one, that promises more ad-
vantage to science, or to the money interests of the

i6o Instinct.

community. But of the variation of Instinct un-
der domestication and its relation to man, we shall
have occasion to speak again.

All Instinct, on the part of many animals, would
be useless in providing for their young, were there
not an answering Instinct on the part of the young,
that brings them into proper relation to their pa-
rents, or to the world, in those cases where paren-
tal care cannot avail for them.

The cry of danger, from the hen or partridge,
would be of no avail to save her scattered brood,
were there not an answering Instinct in the young,
that instantly recognizes the note of warning, and
impels them to seek cover. They fly from the
mother and hide themselves ; as though conscious
that she cannot protect them from the bird of prey,
without exposing herself to death.

Among our highest domestic animals, the mam-
mals, the care of the dam would fail to provide for
the young, were there not an Instinct which leads
the young to seek the udder. Here is the milk se-
creted ; and it is the food, and the only proper
food, for the young. And they seek it for them-
selves ; for not one of these hoof-bearing mammals,
could feed its own young ; or, in any direct way,
aid the young in feeding ; and the same is true of
wild animals, that have the same structure. The
young of such animals, must feed themselves, with-
out aid or instruction. They must feed themselves
at once, or die. There never was a time when
those animals could care better for their young than

Prompt Action Required, i6i

now. Their very existence is proof of Instinct as
a gift, and not as the result of experience, — an In-
stinct, as perfect in the beginning as now ; for an
experience, without the Instinct first given as a
condition, is impossible, from the very structure of
those hoof-bearing tribes, which can give their
young no aid whatever, in securing food.

Among birds, as we have noticed in another
connection, we have beautiful examples of the in-
stinct of the young responsive to the instinct of the
mother. Many birds are hatched in a very imma-
ture state. They can neither fly, nor walk, nor see.
All they have strength to do, is to raise the head
and open the bill ; and this they all do every time
the mother lights upon the nest. They do it at
once ; it is all they need to do ; but this they must
do, or die. There is no time for them to learn by
experience, — they must be ready to do the right
thing at once, of their own accord. And there was
no better chance for any ancestor to learn by expe-
rience. This habit, common to all kinds of young
birds hatched in an immature state, could not be
an acquired habit ; but must be something given
as independently of any agency of ancestors, as the
growth of bone or the arrangement of muscles.

A marvellous thing it is, that the mother bird,
when the brood is numerous, should be able rightly
to divide her favors. If she is guided by sight at
all, there must be wonderful acuteness of vision,
that enables Woodpeckers and Wrens, in their cov-
ered nests, and Kingfishers and Bank-swallows, in
their deep holes in the earth, to discern one of theif
young from the other.

1 62 Instijict.

Although there is much connected with this
subject that we cannot understand, there are cer-
tain facts, such as we have referred to, plain to ev-
ery observer, showing a wonderful correlation of
instinctive action between the parent and its young.

This correlation commences immediately on the
hatching of the young bird, and it is common to
thousands of kinds of birds, under a variety of con-
ditions.

Many illustrations of the same principle can be
found among the invertebrate animals ; and with
some of them, this principle of correlation of In-
stinct is of wider application, — a third element often
comes in to act, as will appear in considering the
following topics :

1. Instinct of anunals requiring certain changes
in other kinds of animals^ or in plants^ for the com-
pletion of its work.

2. The peculiar instijict of one stage of being as
preparatory to another^ in which that instinct is en-
tirely lost ; as in the case of many insects.

Every plant has certain relations to the inorgan-
ic world, as we have pointed out in a previous lec-
ture. There is a correlation of its changes and
developments, both as to time and conditions re-
quired for them, with the changes in the inor-
ganic world.

The animal kingdom, as a whole, not only de-
pends upon the vegetable, but it is fitted to the vege-
table kingdom, in many respects, as that is related
to the inorganic world. Important physiological
changes in animals, as well as change of instinct, or

Chayigcs zviiJi the Season. 163

rather quickening of instinct in special directions,
correspond with certain changes in the vegetable
kingdom ; without which, these changes in the an-
imals would be meaningless, useless, or even de-
structive to them.

The animals that hibernate, find food, such as
they use, most abundant in the fall ; and at the
same time, there seems to be a physiological change,
by which the animal lays up an extra store of fat
in its tissues, to keep the lamp of life burning dur-
ing winter. If this change is not provided for in
the animal's system, by physiological action, then he
has the Instinct to hoard food, and has activity
enough in winter to live upon it. The instincts of
migratory birds, change with the season ; some of
them returning while snow and ice are abundant ;
so that they are evidently driven north by a quick-
ened instinct, rather than enticed by green fields
and sunny skies.

All the birds bring forth their young at that
season when their food is abundant, and when there
will be time for the young brood to mature, before
the change of season can make its demand upon
them. The wild goose must make her way to the
lakes of the far north, in season to rear her brood,
and have them full fledged and strong of wing
to join in that grand procession towards the south,
m autumn.

All these adjustments, by which the animal
kingdom struggles successfully for existence, de-
pend upon the fact that the quickening of func-
tions, and of special instincts needful to carry on

164 Instinct,

the work to completion, correspond with the changes
in the inorganic world and vegetable kingdom.

These general adaptations of living things to
the changes of the earth, and the correlation of the
changes among the different orders of living things
are much more common and marked than is gener-
ally supposed. Every change seems to be a part
of a series of machinery adjusted and set in motion
according to a plan ; and such a plan, that every
wheel must move with a given velocity, and start
and stop at a given time, or loss and ruin follow.

But in addition to these general adaptations, by
which all beings in the world seem to be more or
less dependent upon others, there are certain spe-
cial relations of animals to plants and of animals
to each other, secured by Instinct, that strike
us in the same manner, as special structure in
animals and plants themselves. There is a whole
tribe of insects, to which we have before referred,
that make galls upon plants, or check the growth
of the axis of plants in some peculiar manner. The
Gall-fly deposits an &gg upon the leaf or twig, ac-
cording to her habit ; and then her work ceases.
Now the tree takes up the work — forms a house for
the young insect and provides it with food ; until,
at last, the perfect insect makes its way through
the walls of the house, into the open air. This is
an entirely different thing from those many cases,
where the ^g% is simply deposited so that the young
can find proper food ; as in the case of the Tent-
moth, that deposits eggs upon Apple or Cherry
twigs ; or of the Carrion-fly, which deposits her eggs

Plants as Foster-parents. 165

upon flesh or fish. The action of securing food, in
both of the latter cases, is entirely on the part of
the young insects ; that is, they simply eat the sub-
stance as they find it, though not specially prepared
for them, as the Oak-gall is, for its inhabitant. The
Apple-trees are sufferers only in the loss of leaves
destroyed, before they have done their work for the
trees. There is no evidence of any relation of the
tree to the insect, except as being its appropriate
food, and in putting out its leaves at the right time ;
that is, before the eggs of the insect hatch. But in
the case of the Oaks, the Roses, the Spruces and
Golden-rods, and many other plants, there is a posi-
tive marshalling of the powers of the plants to pro-
vide both food and lodging for the young insect.
And they do this work in as regular a manner as they
form leaves or flowers.

These plants act as foster-parents ; and in sup-
plementing the work of the parent insect, they per-
form the exact office of working bees in the Hon-
ey-bee hive.

There are ichneumon insects, and parasitic flies,
that sting the caterpillars of certain moths, but do
it in such a way that the caterpillar lives and eats,
until his enemies have come to maturity at the
expense of his life ; or, at least, of his power to rise
into a higher life. It is no uncommon thing for a
collector to find a caterpillar bearing numerous
small cocoons ; — the work of his enemies, that have
wasted his life, — or to open a cocoon, and in place
of the chrysalis, to find very many smaller objects :
the young of insects, which have been provided for

1 66 Instinct,

by the joint products of the body and instinct of
the cocoon-builder. The parasites fed upon the
chrysalis of the insect, and they were protected, dur-
ing their transformation, by the cocoon which he
had prepared for his own transformation.

The common Bot-fly is another example of the
dependence of one animal upon another, for the
completion of the work, which its Instinct has be-
gun. This fly deposits her ^g% upon the hair of the
horse, where it is held by a glue that instantly hard-
ens. If the work were left where the mother leaves
it, there would soon be an end of the species. But
she deposits her eggs, instinctively, on such parts
of the body of the horse that he will swallow more
or less of them. When the eggs or larvce have
reached the horse's stomach, they have found the
proper place for development, — a place which the in-
sect mother cannot reach, and having no connec-
tion with the parts where the eggs are deposited.
But the fly, as though understanding the whole
process and the calculation of chances, puts her
eggs in such a position, that enough of them shall
reach their place of development, to keep the spe-
cies good.

The wonderful processes by which the entozoa
find their appropriate place of development, in all
their stages of growth, are analogous to this ; but are
too intricate for use here as illustrations.

We have in the Bot-fly, another manifestation
of Instinct, that is difficult to be reconciled with
that theory which resolves it into fixed habits form-
ed by the experience of past generations ; or to

Experience not its Origin. 167

tendencies inherited through any means. The ^^^
is deposited by the mother, and she soon dies. It
is then removed to the stomach of the horse, where
it wakes to hfe and spends the first stage of its ex-
istence. It has never had any connection with the
leg of a horse, except as an ^^^. Before it comes
into the world, to act as a fly, all the former race
of Bot-flies are dead. It must begin its work for
itself; and it goes, not where it began life, for that
is Impossible ; but, to the place where it was depos-
ited as an ^^^. So if we refer Instinct, in this case,
to experience in the present race or past races, the
experience begun and treasured up, must have be-
gun in the o^^g !

We have a multitude of examples, of Instinct
of this kind, which moves on changing, as the young
changes from the ^gg to maturity ; with no paren-
tal care to aid it, and no parental example for imi-
tation.

The eggs of the Tent-moth are its only repre-
sentatives in the spring of the year. But the thou-
sands of young Insects from these eggs, all start off
in the work of feeding and web-weaving and migra-
ting from the web, and cocoon building, just as all
others of the same kind have done every year be-
fore. And yet, no parent has ever seen its young,
and no young has ever seen a parent, or any of its
works.

The Oak-pruners deposit their eggs on the
branches of the oak ; and the young insect grows
and cares for itself until the proper time comes for
its transformation. Then it cuts the limb between

1 6S Instinct,

itself and the tree, so that its branch may fall to the
earth, where it goes through its transformations.
All the thousands do exactly the same things, as
all previous generations have done before them.

The Apple-tree Borer deposits her ^g^ in the
bark and there leaves it. The Borer mines in the
wood, feeding and growing for months. But be-
fore the time of transformation, it prepares its hole,
so that it can easily escape into a world, where it
has never been, and from which, up to that time,
it has tried to escape. It has never seen the outer
world nor known a parent's care, nor one of its
kind ; but it comes forth fitted for its work, not only
by structure but by Instinct to guide, — to guide it
perfectly, in entirely new relations to the world, and
in the use of organs it never before possessed.
The being bursts into life with nothing to learn,
fully prepared to act its part, — and it is absolutely
necessary that it should be thus provided for ; be-
cause it has neither the time nor the conditions for
obtaining its needful knowledge, as intelligent be-
ings must obtain theirs.

It is plain, from these cases and the hundreds
like them, which might be cited, that animals come
into the world with all their instinctive capacities
ready for action, the instant they are needed. And
this instinctive outfit, being essential at once to the
continuance of life, could not have been acquired by
any changes resulting from experience or observa-
tion, by themselves or their ancestors.

The instinct of the young is supplemented, in
many cases, it is true, by the instinct of the parent.

Preservation of the Fittest, 169

But in those species, where the young is thrown
upon the world without a parent's care, its Instinct
is sufficient to guide it, the instant it is hatched.
And the Instinct develops as a guide to the ani-
mal, just as his organs become fitted for action.
The Instinct, in every case, changes as the condi-
tions of life change by development ; whether the
changes are gradual or sudden, — so that the most
complex and wonderful manifestations of these orig-
inal principles of action, are found among the
lower tribes of the animal kingdom. Multitudes
of insects commence life in the earth and in the
water. Some of them spend years, mining in the
ground, or hiding among the rocks and mud of
brooks and lakes. They have organs and instincts
that fit them for such life. But the day comes,
when they suddenly pass to a higher life of the air.
There is oftentimes as complete change of instincts,
as of organs, — but both are just fitted for the new
life of their possessor ; each supplementing the other.
The machine and guiding power are ready at the
same time.

When, now, appeal is made to the ^'preservation
of the fittest^'' amidst infinite variation of forms, as
accounting for the present perfection of relation
among all these beings, to each other, and to the
world, in which they live, we reply, as in a former
lecture, that we are in want of some fitness to
begin with ; before there can be variation, and the
" fittest " be preserved. Preservation is one thing, —
the production of something to be preserved, is an-
8

I/O Instinct.

other, — especially, where the thing preserved can
be preserved only by means of its own characteris-
tics— through its own struggle for existence.

We are now prepared to see in what respect
histinct is a law for the animal.

We have seen from our discussions thus far, that
something must be given to every animal as its out-
fit in starting in the world. There must be not
only impulse, but there must be a certain amount
of knowledge and skill possessed by the animal,
when it comes into the world, just as necessarily
as it must have a stomach and lungs. If any object
to the terms, knowledge and skill, because the ca-
pabilities are not acquired, they cannot deny the ex-
istence in animals of these capabilities, that take
the place of acquired knowledge and skill among
men.

I conceive that the knowledge and skill, which
the young animal comes into the world with, differ
no more from that which he gains in after life, from
experience, than his stomach and lungs at the first
moment of life differ from the same organs after
they have grown by the process of taking food.
The young animal comes into the world with organs
all fitted for a certain work, and with knowledge
and skill to fit him for that work, — that is, to main-
tain his place in the world. Nature seems to give
him, at birth, as little as possible of both bodily and
mental powers ; using the word mental as including
all the activities involving volition. But she acts
wisely, and gives the animal bodily and mental
powers sufficient for the conditions in which it

Uniformity among Animals. 171

first wakes to life. If It Is to have a parent's care,
then It has powers of body and mind just sufficient
to supplement the parent's labors. If it is one of a
race which never see their parents, then it has
greater gifts to begin with ; and fights its own bat-
tles, from the first moment of conscious existence.
It knows how to meet any emergency and perform
every needful work, as well as though instructed in
the best polytechnic schools, and aided by a centu-
ry of experience.

When we consider the whole history of animals,
one of the first things that strikes us, is the great
uniformity that appears among those of the same
kind, when left to themselves under favoring condi-
tions. When we compare animals with the human
species, we see a uniformity in all the manifesta-
tions of being, on the one side, that could be secured
only by a controlling force, uniform in its nature
and operations in each species ; and on the other,
a diversity, that seems to originate from a force
having some peculiarity in every individual case.
It is a matter of great Interest to trace the cause
of this uniformity on the one hand, and of this di-
versity, on the other ; and to this investigation the
remaining lectures will be chiefly devoted.

But for the present we wish to consider briefly
the uniformity of individuals in the same species of
animals ; and leave the question of diversity among
men, even of the same family, for future considera-
tion, when we have more materials bearing upon
the subject.

We have already seen that Instinct, in its sim-

172 Instinct,

plest form, supplements structure and function ;
and that Instinct varies in every animal, as the
structure and function of his organs change. These
three elements then being the same in thousand?
of individuals of the same species, we shall have a
constant resultant in each one of them, unless ex-
ternal circumstances come in as a disturbing ele-
ment. These three elements are so strong in their
combined action, in every animal, that they shape
his life, — experience is not able to turn him from
the course along which they impel him. Experi-
ence may do much for the higher animals, — it may
keep them from danger, add to their enjoyment of
life and improve them in many ways ; but it can
never turn them from that course, along which the
functions of organs and the original impulse and
guidance of Instinct, carry them.

We see nothing in animals of the same species,
that renders them unlike each other in followino-
the impulses arising from the function of their or-
gans.— The animal seems, in this respect, to be pas-
sive in the formation of its controlling impulses ;
and he follows the great impulses of his nature,
freely, and without consideration of the remote
consequences. That nature of the animal, which
leads him to take into consideration only the pres-
ent, the surrounding circumstances for the moment,
will secure a uniformity not to be expected in man,
who brings in to modify every activity, the memo-
ry of the past, the accumulated experience of men
in all ages, and the expectation of the future, with
all its uncertainties, which never can affect an ani-

Influence of Experience » 173

mal, since they cannot be comprehended by him
Just in proportion as we find men leaving out of
consideration the experience of the past and the
prospects of the future, do we find almost a brute-
like uniformity of action among them ; as is seen
in the lowest savage tribes; and just in proportion
as we see among animals, any mingling of the mem-
ories of the past with their present impressions, do
we see a want of uniform action among members
of the same species. All that we can then say is,
that in animals, structure, function, and that part
of Instinct which supplements them, are so strong
that they move on together, giving the same re-
sults in all animals of the same species ; or so near-
ly the same results, that the changes produced in
instinctive life by experience, as peculiar to each
animal, are as the perturbations of the planets in
their course, so small that they do not interfere
with the general result ; and unless the perturba-
tion occurs in the same quarter and is often repeat-
ed, it never accumulates to a sum sufficient to at-
tract attention, except by the most careful inspec-
tion. We speak now of animals in their free state ;
and not of that abnormal condition to which the
influence of man may reduce them.

The result is uniform, because all the influences
of experience are, with animals, mainly subordinate
to that high wisdom, which we call Instinct ; a wis-
dom given to the animal for his guidance, doing
the work which the human race can do only by
hard experience and patient thought. When will
man reach like uniform and happy results for him

174 Instinct,

self, through that free Intelligence, by which he
must guide himself, or fall below the brutes ?

As a means of rendering results almost mechan-
ically uniform among animals, even when they fol-
low their impulses, we find the most important
functions only periodically active ; and so far as we
know, no harm comes to one animal more than to an-
other, while in his natural state, from following the
impulse of his appetites to the full extent of their
demand. He can be deceived, as we shall show ;
but he is injured by being deceived, thus gratifying
his appetite on the wrong substance, and not be-
cause he indulged his appetite to too great an ex-
tent.

In man, the appetites have but a slight self-reg-
ulating power, — they need control and restraint from
their possessor, — while among animals they are per-
fectly self-regulating by the periodicity and strength
of the functions that originate them. And as in-
stinctive action, so far as the appetites are concern-
ed, simply supplements function, of course it never
goes beyond the proper bound ; because the appe-
tite gives it no occasion for going beyond that
bound.

What we mean then when we say that Instinct
is a law for the animal is, that those original princi-
ples of action in him, which were given as his first
outfit in life, always control him in the main ; expe-
rience doing but little in directing the course of life,
though it may do much in conducting it to a suc-
cessful issue in that course. The instinctive prin-
ciples guide the animal in its action, to that which

Impulses Independent of Organization. 175

is in harmony with his physical constitution, — to
the true end of his being, — or if they lead the indi-
vidual to injury, it is for the benefit of the species.

But although Instinct gives great uniformity of
results, it is not perfect ; that is, it is not infallible.
It may. be deceived, and so deceived as to cause
the destruction of its possessor. The impression
often prevails, that Instinct is, in some cases at least,
an impulse that leads to the right action directly ;
without the secondary aid of the senses. The im-
pulses that lead animals to perform certain opera-
tions, as migrating, and the storing of food for winter,
are perhaps of this nature ; though a more careful
examination of the subject may enable us to trace,
even here, some direct relation between changes in
nature and the act of the animal. But so far as
our present knowledge goes, the action of birds in
migration, and, especially, the action of fishes, like
the Salmon, that pass from the ocean to fresh water
to spawn ; and also the action of animals which lay up
stores of food for winter, — all these, and like action
of animals, seem to originate from some impulse
arising from their organization, independently of
the senses. And if we say that the impulse is pro-
duced by some relation of the external world to the
animal's organism, still, we have this fact remaining,
— his always doing a specific thing involving con-
trivance,— to be accounted for. Even if we grant
that the Salmon remember that they were hatched
in the river, we have still to account for their going
back there to deposit their eggs ; and for their de-

1 76 Instinct.

positing them in their proper places, caring for them
as all other Salmon have done before ; although not
one of them ever saw the work done, as must be
the case when a stream is stocked, for the first time,
by eggs carried there from some other place. But
in general, we can trace the direct relation between
the instinctive act and the impression made upon
some sense. In all cases, where the acts depend
upon the impressions made upon the senses, the
act is performed when the impression is made ; and
in accordance with the impression, although the
impression maybe made in such away as to entire-
ly deceive the animal. There is in most animals,
certainly in some of them, very great power of dis-
cerning through the senses those characteristics
that are desirable or undesirable in an object ;
but when you imitate, in any way, those character-
istics, they act. Hence arise many cases of appar-
ent reasoning, that are nothing more than the vari-
ation of the action of Instinct to secure a given re-
lation of the animal to the world around him.

Flies lay eggs upon the Carrion-plant,* because
its odor has the same relation to their sense of smell,
as the odor of putid flesh, upon which theiryoung can
feed ; but they make a mistake, because their young
cannot live upon the flower. Very young birds,
when any sound is made upon the edge of the nest,
open their bills, — as readily to the boy that comes
to rob the nest, as to the mother that comes to feed
them . The instinctive act, essential to life, is li7tked to
the sensation of sound. The hen is cheated by the
* Kirby. Bridg. Treat.

Mistakes of Instifict. I'/y

crystal of salt which is poison to her, and eats it,
mistaking it for the grain of quartz, that is neces-
sary to her, for the process of digestion. Here the
Instinct of eating gravel, which is very curious in
itself, is linked to a certain impression upon the
sense of sight.

The whole process of cheating animals to cap-
ture them, depends upon the fact that the purely,
instinctive notions of the animal, arise from a certain
relation of external objects to its senses ; as truly
as those notions that may come to it in conse-
quence of experience. The sense of smell is the
occasion of mistake by the fly ; the sense of sight,
of mistake by the fowl, when she swallows salt in-
stead of gravel ; and she is deceived by the sense
of hearing, when she hides at the cry, like that of
the hawk, though the sound may be made by a
mocking-bird, or by man. These are only exam-
ples ; many of which will occur to every observer.
Those given are enough to show that Instinct does
not correct the senses, or render them more acute ;
but that instinctive acts, such as we have mention-
ed, always have a certain relation to the impres-
sions made upon the senses. Many of the mis-
takes of Instinct, so called, are the indications that
we have in many acts, especially among the higher
animals, something more than Instinct, — at least, a
limited range of that principle of Intelligence be-
longing peculiarly to man, which works out the
noblest results, but is liable to mistakes, until ren-
dered safe in its action by long experience.

If Instinct is the controller of animal activity,
8*

178 Instinct.

the question naturally arises, How far, and under
what conditions is it subject to variation ?

There is a tendency in almost all plants and an-
imals, if not in all, to vary from one exact type,
giving rise to varieties. The extent to which this
variation may go, is at present one of the disputed
points among naturalists, and one which it is very
difficult to settle. All readily acknowledge that
species vary so as to give a multitude of varie-
ties ; as in the case of the common apple and oth-
er cultivated fruits; while some hold to the dis-
tinct origin of species themselves, and others re-
gard them as simply permanent, well marked va-
rieties.

Without entering into this discussion fully,
which our present purpose does not require, there
are certain things in regard to this variation of
species, upon which most naturalists seem to be
agreed.

1. Variation may take place in any plant or an-
imal in a manner and from causes quite beyond
our comprehension ; that is, apparently from some
original constitution of the being.

2. Rapid variation is in general, most common
among the higher groups of plants and animals;
especially among those most useful to man.

3. When the process of variation has com-
menced in any kind, we naturally expect from our
observation, that instances of variation in that kind
will become increasingly common.

This may explain the reason for our finding so
much variation among our best cultivated plants

Qualities of Instinct. 179

and domestic animals. They have been under the
influence of man so long, and so many new forms
have been preserved, that permanent characteristics
are not to be expected ; as in nature, where only
those types are preserved, which can fight their
own battles in the world.

4. There is a tendency for any characteristic,
brought out by variation, to be propagated and
finally to become fixed, so that it is sure to appear
in the young of the parent possessing that charac-
teristic.

The tendency to exhibit peculiar characteris-
tics, is, perhaps, most marked, or, at least, most
noticeable, in respect to size and color. But there
are great variations in the super-sensuous nature of
animals. Docility, viciousness, stupidity, and most
other characteristics, that we see in different de-
grees among men, we also see in different degrees,
among animals of the same species. And these
characteristics are as likely to be transmitted, as is
peculiarity of form or color.

But docility, viciousness and stupidity are not
instincts at all. They simply mark qualities of the
instincts, or their degree of perfection ; if they can
be referred to Instinct at all. We believe that
those qualities belong chiefly, if not wholly, to In-
telligence, or the capacity of the animal to under-
stand the relation of his acts as means to ends.
Certain it is, that by training and care in selection,
we can secure habits or tendencies in breeds of an-
imals, as well as we can secure difference of form.
In this respect, we see no difference between men

i8o Instinct.

and animals. Men vary in the powers of mind, —
even members of the same family are often quite
unlike in temper, taste and ability. But we do not
speak of this difference among men, as any proof
that one possesses powers, in kind, that the other
does not possess ; but that one possesses a degree
of power and quality of temper which the other
does not have.

There has been much confusion in reasoning,
in regard to the super-sensuous nature of animals,
because so many have decided, at the outset, that
they are here in a field entirely different from that
found in the study of man ; and because qualities
of powers or faculties, have been treated as new
powers, or as something having a tendency to pro-
duce new powers. Qualities may give the being
new pozver, but not new powers or factilties. The
new power comes from the better use and greater
strength of old powers.

But in addition to these qualities that make a
difference between individuals of the same species,
and which vary in the same individual, in different
periods of life, we have taught in these lectures,
that Instinct varies in its manifestations in the same
individual to meet the different conditions of hfe ;
as plants vary by the law of their growth, for the
same purpose. That original impulse, knowledge
and skill, which are possessed by the animal with-
out experience, and which we have called INSTINCT,
are excited to action by the circumstances in which
the animal is placed. It often happens, that an
animal is so situated that it lives easily by the ex-

Variation of Instinct, i8l

ercise of only a part of this original gift ; while a
change of circumstances will instantly call the rest
of the knowledge and skill into play. Those who
see the change for the first time, wonder at what
seems to them manifestations of wisdom on the
part of the actor. Mistakes have been made in
the study of animals, from want of careful observa-
tion in regard to the nature and conditions of such
changes in instinctive action.

It is probable that instincts may be strength-
ened in certain directions, and weakened in others,
and changed in quality. If this cannot be done di-
rectly, it certainly can be done indirectly, by affect-
ing the functions of the body, which are the chief
agencies in bringing the instincts into play, and af-
fecting their strength and quality.

There is great plasticity in the organic and su-
per-sensuous part of the lower tribes even ; sufficient
to give them a fair chance in the world ; and when
we come to the higher animals, we have a still
greater plasticity of nature ; so that qualities and
habits can be secured and transmitted, as tenden-
cies at least, from one generation to another.

This is so well understood by breeders that they
will, in time, secure almost any form or color which
they desire, — not because they have any power to
change these directly, but because they take advan-
tage of the tendency in all animals to vary and to
inherit the peculiarities of parents. In like man-
ner, any peculiar manifestation of an instinct can be
fixed by selection in breeding. The breeder is at-
tracted by some habit of an animal, which would

1 82 Instinct.

be desirable. That is to him a hint. That ani-
mal is preserved ; and the chances are that some
of its young will manifest the same characteristics,
perhaps in an increased degree. The selection
goes on in this direction for generations, — every
thing in other directions being rejected and every
thing in that direction being preserved, — until the
peculiar characteristic is fixed ; sure to appear in
every one of the variety or breed. This may ex-
plain the difference between Shepherd-dogs, Point-
ers, Bull-dogs and other breeds. It is not certain
however, that all our dogs came from the same
original stock.

It is to be noticed that this variation in Instinct,
is according to a definite plan. Change of Instinct
in strength or quality, seems to be accompanied
with a corresponding change of structure. The two
move on together, by some inscrutable law. The
savage temper of the Bull-dog is accompanied with
a ponderous jaw and enormou<s strength of muscle.
The keen scent of the Blood-hound and the struc-
ture for running all harmonize with his instinct for
following the prey. The Spaniel and Newfound-
land dog readily take to the water ; and their web-
feet fit them for this element.

The Instinct, which leads the fowl to sit upon
her eggs, is always connected with a peculiar phys-
iological change in the body. That change seems
first to awaken the instinct and bring it into play.
There is an unnatural heat of the body, — a change
in the temper of the fowl, and a disregard of dan-
ger In fact, the whole nature of the animal seems

Co7inection with Function. 183

to be changed by some law of its being, as its feath-
ers grow or drop off, at particular seasons. This
physiological change and the manifestation of the
instinct to brood, come after a certain number of
eggs are laid, called a '■''nestr But it has been found
that these ^'nests " vary in number ; and by continued
selections, breeds have been secured that never
brood. The valuable characteristic of constantly
producing eggs, is secured ; but there would be the
loss of the breed, were it not for the care of man.

In consequence of the abnormal conditions, to
which domestic animals are subjected, we must ex-
pect great confusion in the manifestations of their
natural habits. There are great modifications of
Instinct, as we find among dogs, modifications of
the original Instinct, in particular directions, inten-
sified by habit and rendered constant by careful
breeding. There is no more difference in the In-
stinct of the different kinds of dogs, then there is in
their structure. And as all the different forms of
dogs are seen to be modifications of one type, so
their instincts appear to be modifications of the nor-
mal instincts seen among those dogs which are sup-
posed to be near the original type.

The relation of function to Instinct is much more
intimate than is generally supposed, so that the ac-
tion of one may be mistaken for that of the other.
The wonderful instinct of the hound is often refer-
red to as enabling him to track his prey, even upon
the dry earth. It is not Instinct, at all, that enables
him to do this. It is function, — the delicacy of the
organ of smelling. He has the Instinct to follow his

1 84 Instinct,

prey, as the common dogs have, but he is able to
follow his prey when they are baffled, only by a
more delicate function of one special sense. In-
stinct leads the common dog to hunt for his mas-
ter's track ; but it is function that enables him to
find it.

All the reciprocal influences of structure, fu-nc-
tion and Instinct on the being, under the varied
conditions to which our domestic animals are sub-
jected, W'iH never be understood until they have
been studied long, with great care. It is in this
field of observation, that we look for the most in-
teresting results, in determining the limits ofvaria-
tion in the whole structure and nature of the ani-
mal. Conceding the great changes that have taken
place in the modifying of forms and Instincts, we
see nothing yet that indicates the production of a
new Instinct ; and we can never be sure that an in-
stinct is lost simply because it does not act. An
instinct may lie dormant for generations because
there is no occasion for its activity ; but sheep warn
their fellows of danger, and cows hide their calves
when the occasion comes for calling the old instincts
into play. And the calf, stupid as he is, knows his
part of the performance in hiding, as well as though
trained in the best schools !

We have thus seen the wide application of these
spontaneous activities. They increase in number
and complexity according to the nature of the be-
ings in which they appear. They appear when
they are needed, and they pass away when there is
no longer use for them. They save the individual

Definitions. 185

and the species ; and this they do by working won-
ders ; but if they did not perform these wonders ;
the species could not exist, as they are.

Each step makes it plainer to us, that we have
not here a distinct principle or an agent, as Hamil-
ton calls it ; ^* but that an Instinct is simply an im-
pulse to a particular kind of voluntary action which
the being needs to perform as an individual or represen-
tative of a species ; but which he could not possibly
learn to perform before he 7ieeds to act. And the gen-
eral term, INSTINCT, includes all the original hnpulses,
— excepting the Appetites^ — and that knowledge and
skilly with which animals are endowed — which experi-
ence may call into exercise, but which it does not give.

All of these are given to an animal in proportion
to his need — according to the conditions under
which he is to start in life ; and not at all in pro-
portion to his rank in the scale of being. And all
attempts to fix the rank of an animal by means of
the number and perfection of those principles of
action, utterly fail. It is just as logical to argue
that a Sea-urchin is nearly allied to man in structure,
because his spines have ball and socket joints, like
the limbs of man, as to argue that an animal is near
man in Intelligence, because his instinctive acts
imitate the intelligent acts of man.

If we accept the account thus far given of the
nature of instinctive acts, we must be prepared to
recognize Intelligence as reaching much lower in
the scale of being than it has generally been sup-
posed that it does. And by intelligence, we mean
* Metapliysi(;s, Bowen's Ed., p. 505.

1 86 Instinct,

here, simply, the power in the actor of comprehend-
ing ends as desirable, and his own acts as means
to secure those ends. Intelligence carries on the
work by experience which was begun by Instinct.
An intelligent act can be distinguished from an in-
stinctive act only by the conditions under which it
is performed. They may both be exactly the same
in form and in their relation to ends.

LECTURE VIII.

HIGHER CHARACTER OF ANIMALS. — ANIMALS COM-
PARED WITH MAN.

Knowledge from Experience.— Do animals thiitk?— Definition of
thinking.— Conditions of the act to be studied.— Diffictdty of tJie
work.— Condition of the animal.— Physical structure and growth
in Men and Animals.— The Senses in both.— Physiological like-
ness.— Capacity of Atiimals for Pain and Enjoyment.— Psycho-
logical effects of sensations in Animals.— Fear, Anger, Joy, Grief
Shame.— The Desires.— Esthetic nature of Animals.— Anhnals
learn by expeHence.— Their actions compared with those of man.—
Ta?jiing and trapping Animals.— Memory of Animals.— Drea?n-
ing.— Summary of the Argument.— Instinct the controlling pow-
er.-The Rights of Animals.

Animals are plainly guided by some principle of
voluntary action, which secures comphcated results
necessary for their well-being, before they can have
experience, or instruction. These voluntary activ-
ities, rising above the functional activities, but
working in harmony with them, without experience,
or instruction, on the part of their possessor, secure
the welfare of the individual, and the continuance
of the species. These activities, taken together,
constitute INSTINCT ; as that word is generally un-
derstood. And Instinct, as thus defined, is un-
doubtedly the sole guide of many of the lower
tribes. We judge so, because they do not appear
to have the conditions for an experience ; and yet

1 88 Instinct

they accomplish their work perfectly, and in the
same manner, wherever found. But so far as expe-
rience is possible, the animal seems to be as de-
pendent upon that, as is the human race itself.

The self-directive, voluntary activities seem to
be confined, in every species, to the narrowest
sphere of action possible, consistent with the wel-
fare of each species, under its ordinary conditions
of Hfe.

In addition to those actions which are plainly
instinctive, — because performed at once, in the same
manner, by all members of any given species, — we
see animals performing other acts, in the same line,
or connected with them, that seem plainly to de-
pend upon acquired knowledge.

We perform the same kinds of acts, as many an-
imals perform, not only because we have been
taught by others, who have also been taught or
aided by experience, but we do them understand-
ingly : comprehending the relations of means to
ends ; knowing, feeling, willing. We form plans,
and execute them for our pleasure. The mistakes
of inexperience, we correct by observation ; and we
daily become more skilful in any work we do. All
these acts and results mark us as " thinking beings,"
as this phrase is generally understood. Within
certain limits, the higher animals appear to learn
by the same process as we do, and to act with the
same comprehension of means and ends. The
question then naturally arises, Do any animals pos-
sess a mental, or super-sensuous, organization like
that of a man, in kind ; so that any of their acts, are

Thinki?ig. 189

the result of choice, as related to some end compre-
hended by them as desirable ? In other words, do
animals comprehend relations, and then act for the
purpose of securing pleasure, by adapting means to
ends ; or are they impelled to all acts, for their pres-
ervation and productive of pleasure to them, by a
blindly working force, that gives law to their vol-
untary acts, with no aid from any of those powers,
that are the chief distinction of man ? Are animals,
in any proper sense, thinking beings ? The answer
to this question can be given, not by considering
the nature of any act alone, but the conditions, un-
der which the act is performed. For purely in-
stinctive acts manifest as much wisdom, as any in-
telligent act possibly can, in aiming at the same re-
sult. We must also agree as to what is meant by
thinking; or else, while we agree as to the mental
status of animals, we may continue our war of
words, simply in defence of our definitions.

We have had of late, the question proposed ;
What is it to think? And we have had answers
given, that all thought involves processes beyond
the powers of animals, and therefore that they do
not think. This is a short way of disposing of the
matter ; and most questions can be disposed of in
the same manner. If a man starts with a given
definition of thinking, declaring that it always in-
volves certain elements, and then denies that ani-
mals ever have those elements, because he accounts
for all apparent manifestation of these elements
in them, by some low form of association of ideas,
the argument, with him, is ended, of course. We

190 Instinct.

believe that animals have elements of thought
which some have denied to them. We know, cer
tainly, that animals act as though they had notions
of time, space and causality. But it can never be
conclusively proved that they have them, we readi-
ly admit.

To be explicit, let us define " thinking," as we
now intend to use the word. If any object to the
definition, they will understand our meaning.
When any being performs an act, to secure pleas-
ure or avoid pain, because he comprehends his act
as a means to secure the end, we consider that think-
ing is involved, — of course, it often rises into high-
er planes than this, as philosophical thinking ; but
we consider that it begins, wherever beings act
from any comprehejision of means and ends.

That animals perform acts, which seem to imply
thought, no one will deny ; purely instinctive acts,
and even the movements of plants, seem to imply
thought, where there is no sensation even. If we
detect Intellect in animals at all then, it will not be,
because they perform certain acts ; but it will be,
because they perform these acts under the same
conditions, and by the same means, or methods, as
men perform them. We must direct our attention
then, mainly to the conditions under which the
acts of the higher animals are performed.

We are now called upon to enter one of the
most difficult of all fields of observation, and to com-
pare objects that elude the grasp of every sense.
Those who have attempted to compare their own
sensations and conceptions with those of others,

Sensations Compared. 191

know how difficult the work is. Even In regard to
our sensations, or sense-perceptions, we can never
be sure that ours correspond with those of another
person, under the same conditions. You and your
friend look at a flower, and agree that it is yellow ;
but it does not follow that you both have the same
color-sensation. It simply follows, that each of you
has the same sensation, that has been produced in
him, by all objects which he has been taught to call,
yellow. But, as a matter of fact, when your friend
says he perceives a yellow color, he may have just
the same sensation, as you have, when you call the
color, blue. It is not probable that it is so, but it
is not possible for the best physicist, or metaphy-
sician in the world, to so make the comparison, as
to be sure that two persons have sensations alike,
when they give the same name to the sensations.
There is, indeed, one strong argument against the
likenessof sensations, which bear the same name, in
different individuals ; that is, the different effect of
these sensations upon the sensibilities. Two per-
sons agree as to a color ; but one likes it, another
dislikes it. They agree as to the name of an odor
or taste ; but they disagree, as to the effect of that
odor or taste, upon themselves. It is certainly a
fair question ; Does not the different effect of a
taste, or odor, or color, on different individuals, im-
ply that each produces a different sensation upon
one person from what it does upon another ? These
inquiries are started here, to show the inherent dif-
ficulty of comparing the sensations and mental oper-
ations of different individuals, if one is disposed to

192 Instinct.

be sceptical, or to Insist upon absolute proof of their
agreement or likeness, in any given case.

The proof of identity of sensations and sense-
perceptions, can be only inferential, strengthened,
indeed, by our belief in the uniformity, which we
see running throughout our physical structures, so
far as the examination can be made, by the aid of
the senses.

Because animals cannot speak, it seems, at first
thought, a more difficult thing to compare man
with an animal, than it is to compare man with
man. And so it is, in some respects ; as the men-
tal operations can best be revealed through lan-
guage, and some of them, only in this way. But
the difference, in the two cases, is by no means so
great as it, at first, appears. We must in both cases,
infer the correspondence of sensations and men-
tal states, by certain effects. Man can aid us by
language ; but, on the other hand, an animal has
no metaphysical theory that comes in to disturb
his sensations, or his acts, as consequent upon those
sensations. So it may fairly be assumed that the
honesty of an animal, in acting free from all theo-
ries, and all knowledge that he is under examina-
tion, may be a fair offset against the gift of speech,
as an aid in investigating the sensations and con-
ceptions of our fellow-men.

As our object now is, to make a fair comparison
of man with the highest and best known, of the
lower animals, we begin with their bodies.

The structure of all vertebrates is essentially
the same, and varied, only in accordance with the

Animals and Man Compared, 193

conditions of life, in each species. There is, also,
likeness of substance. If we take a human bone
and one from a dog, and analyze them, we find them,
throughout of the same chemical composition.
The bones grow, and the tissues are combined, in es-
sentially the same manner in both. The differences
are merely specific, but the generic character of
bone is constant. If we compare the muscles of
both, the' same is true. Not only are the muscle of
a dog and that of a man alike in their general
structure, action and use, but they are composed of
the same materials, and they grow in the same man-
ner. The nervous systems of both have essential-
ly the same composition, as they have the same
structure and the same use. So, throughout, our
comparison will hold, until we satisfy ourselves
that, in any one of the higher vertebrate animals,
we find the same kind of materials organized in the
same manner, and for the same uses, as in our own
bodies. Growth, decay, life and death are essen-
tially the same, in all the higher animals, as in man.

Now let us advance a step, and compare the
senses and sensations of both. We have no sense
which we do not find in some animal ; and the senses
of animals, so far as we can judge, are affected
in the same way as ours are, by the same objects.
They may have some of the senses more acute than
ours are, but they differ from ours, only in degree ;
as the senses of men differ in strength and delicacy.
So far as we know, no animal has a sense that dif-
fers from ours, in kind.

If we examine the phenomena of the senses in

194 Instinct.

detail, we shall find the animal affected by colors,
odors and sounds, as readily as men are. He may
like what a man dislikes ; as men may be affected,
in different ways, by the same odor or taste. If
we judge, as we do in every other case, it must be
plain to every observer, that animals have the same
kind of enjoyment and suffering, through the senses,
as men have. To heat and cold, hunger and thirst,
food and poison, sickness, pain and death, they
have the same bodily relations, in kind, as we our-
selves. So far as sensation has its recoil, in mus-
cular or physiological effects, there is great simi-
larity, if not identity, of effect.

Those, who deny that the lower animals suffer
as men do, bring forward no valid argument in fa-
vor of their doctrine. It is clear assumption, from
some notion of what they think ought to be, — a
method of procedure utterly unworthy of any
searcher for truth. Besides, they seem to forget
that the same arguments, which are used to show
that the dumb animals do not suffer, but only ap-
pear to suffer, — if accepted, would prove that these
animals have no enjoyment, when they seem to be
happy, but only manifest the appearance of happi-
ness. So far as the argument, for the benevolence
of Deity, is concerned, it seems quite as worthy of
His character, that He has created the lower ani-
mals with the capacity for suffering and enjoyment,
as that He has denied them both, and introduced a
dumb show, that means nothing, simply to keep
up appearances ! We doubt not, the verdict of
every thinking man, who takes time to study and

Enjoyment—Suffering— Fear, 19S

observe, will be, that animals have great capacity
for physical suffering and enjoyment ; and that this
capacity is greatest in those animals that are the
companions of man, depending upon him for much
of their enjoyment, and receiving from him, through
ill temper, thoughtlessness, or neglect, the cause of
almost the entire sum of their suffering. So per-
fectly adjusted do their powers seem to be, that,
were they treated as well as we know how to treat
them— though much remains to be learned of their
proper treatment, as well as of our own,— their
Uves would be almost uninterrupted scenes of en-
joyment ; and they would contribute far more to
the aid of man, than they now can. But let us now
consider what may be called the psychological ef-
fects of sensations, as manifested, or made known
to us, through the muscular and nervous systems.

An object known to man to be dangerous to
him, or supposed to be dangerous, causes fear ; and
the emotion of fear has its natural language, which
the whole body speaks. The emotion is manifest-
ed by a certain action of the muscles, producing a
peculiar movement or fixedness of the eye, trem-
bling, and unusual tones of voice. These same ef-
fects are all produced upon animals, by objects eith-
er dangerous to them, or to which they are unac-
customed. They are frightened, under exactly the
same conditions as men are frightened; in many
cases, by the same objects ; and the effect of the
fright upon them, as manifested by the muscular
and nervous systems, is precisely the same as upon
man,— and the actions of the animal, when he is

ig6 Instinct.

frightened, have the same relation to his ordinary
actions, as we observe in the case of men. We
have intimated that animals know certain enemies,
by a special instinct, such as men do not possess ;
but that question is not now under discussion.
The question is, as to the animal's having the emo-
tion of fear, from any cause ; and as to the Hkeness
of that emotion, to the emotion of fear in man.

Animals fear things that cannot injure them, —
they judge, and very often misjudge. A horse is
frightened at an old newspaper, fluttering in the
street, or at a sudden light or sound, when no dan-
ger is near. He, to all appearances, has weak judg-
ment. He, like man, tries to avoid danger ; but he
is deceived by the semblance of the thing, as chil-
dren, or timid and ignorant men are. Then a word
from his master re-assures him ; if he has one, in
whom he has confidence.

Consider, also, the emotion of anger. It is
manifested in animals, under the same conditions,
as in man. Take from a man, by force, that which
he desires to keep, and he is angry, — so is a dog.
The emotion of fear may be brought in to control
the natural effects of anger, in animals as well as in
men. Anger has the same effect upon the nervous
and muscular systems of each. The eyes glare, the
muscles become tense ; there is an eagerness to
fight, — to injure the aggressor, — and there seems
to be an insensibility to suffering, from wounds and
bruises. The tone of voice, in both men and ani-
mals, is changed by anger ; and the change in both
cases produces the same quality of voice. The emo-

Emotions, 197

tion of anger is, then, we may fairly infer, alike in
both, — in its cause, and in its effect on the motions
of the body, its position, the voice and the act.

If we consider the emotions of joy, grief and
shame, we shall find the similarity to hold. In the
dog, at least, the animal most easily studied, we
find them all manifested for like causes, and by like
motions of eye, head, limb and tone of voice, as in
man. A guilty dog drops the head and cannot
look his master in the eye, — he manifests a sense
of shame, when he is blamed, so that he thinks his
master judges him guilty, or worthy of punishment.
He watches the eye and voice of his master, for the
first indication of returning favor, and expresses his
delight as plainly as actions alone can express an
emotion. These higher animals even know how to
interpret the motions and tones of voice, that indi-
cate some of these emotions in men, when they
themselves are not directly concerned.

In the appetites and simple emotions, we can,
then, make no distinction, in kind, between an ani-
mal and a man. The more closely we press the ex-
amination, the more marked does the likeness
appear.

When we come to consider those instinctive im-
pulses called desires, as desire of life, of property,
of knowledge, of esteem and of power, the exami-
nation becomes more difficult. The animal seems
to fear a death, of which he could have no knowl-
edge ; and he fights for his own property, if it is only
a bone. He curiously tries to investigate the na-
ture of new objects, and unaccustomed sounds, if

198 Instinct.

they do not arouse his fear, so as to overcome his
curiosity. But all these actions are so constant,
and so essential to his well-being, that we might
expect they would be manifested by each animal
of the higher types, as a necessary condition of life.
In their operation, there is but little that simulates
love of hfe, love of property, and love of knowledge
in man ; the difference, however, seems to be in the
degree, or extent of these desires. But the desire
of esteem is as well marked in animals as in man.
Words of approbation seem as grateful to one as to
the other ; and both plainly do acts for the sake of
the praise, and then come to seek their reward.

The desire of power is as well marked, but may
perhaps be referred to those characteristics, which
are essential to the animal's well-being, so that it is
very difficult to point out its likeness to the desire
of power in man. When strange dogs, or cattle,
come together, the first thing that is to be settled,
if they are near the same size, is, which is the bet-
ter dog or ox of the two, with teeth or horns ? If
the weaker one plainly gives up, the larger will,
sometimes, be satisfied with his acknowledged supe-
riority. But generally, there must be a battle.
When two men come together, it is the same,
whether in the ring, in the senate chamber, or in
the parlor. They measure each other's strength,
and there is a constant struggle till one yields.
Among animals, and men of muscle, the battle can
be seen ; but, in many cases, among men, the bat-
tle is only known to the two combatants.

It is generally said of man, that he has the de-

Social Natures, 199

sire for society. Society is so essential to his high-
est development, that it has been called a condi^
tion of his being, rather than a desire. But proba-
bly there is to man an enjoyment in society which
is ultimate. He is a social being, — society is desired
for its own sake. The same thing is true, also
among animals. Horses, cattle, sheep and dogs,
appear to seek each other's company, not only for
the sake of defence, but simply for the sake of com-
pany. It may be said that dogs seek each other's
company, by a remnant of the old, wolf instinct,
that led them to hunt in packs. But this theory
will not account for their play and gambols togeth-
er, after they become acquainted. Nor will it ac-
count for the social nature of such herb-eating ani-
mals and seed-eating birds, as never hunted in com-
pany and never attempt defence in concert.

There is love of company, in one animal, as mani-
fested for another of the same kind, and also for
men, and for animals of different kinds, after the
emotion of fear is overcome.

Shall we deny to animals an Esthetic nature?
Here, most of all, we need language to aid us. Let
us be sure of our facts, and accept them as a basis
for sound inference, instead of trying to explain
them away under the influence of some favorite
theory.

To the sound of music, most of the higher ani-
mals seem attentive. They mark differences of
sound, that often escape the notice of many men.
The dog will distinguish the sound of his master's

2CX) Instinct.

sleigh-bell, as soon as its tinkle can be heard. The
horse keeps step to the music, and learns to obey
the bugle note. Singing birds accompany musical
instruments, and imitate their sound, and the songs
of other birds, to perfection. From this power of
accurately discerning sound and the accompanying
actions, we have fair ground for inferring that many
of the higher animals not only distinguish musical
sounds, but enjoy them. That wealth of melody,
which fills our fields and groves, is sweet to the ear
of man ; but the songsters do not wait his coming,
to begin their concert.

" Is it for thee, the linnet pours his throat ?
Loves of his own, and raptures, swell the note."

That animals are sensible of beauty of form and
color, it would be difficult to prove. It is, certainly,
some argument in its favor, that they are most
beautiful, in form and color, when they choose their
mates. That they admire the landscape, over
which they wander, or gaze from the giddy Alps,
with the emotion of awe, or wonder at their sublim-
ity, is something which we can never know. These
high emotions can be revealed only by the face and
tongue of man. But it is sometimes said that all
this enjoyment, which comes to animals through
the senses, arises from a low form of activity which
betokens no intelligence or thought. Do animals
reason ? After eliminating all instinctive acts,
which simulate the rational acts of men, do we find
that animals perform any acts, by the use of the
same powers, and in the same manner, as men do,

Learnmg from Experience, 201

under the guidance of Intelligence ? If they do not,
then we must acknowledge that there is introduced
into the works of nature, a false show, which is ut-
terly abhorrent to our notions of truthfulness, and
subversive of confidence in all our reasoning from
natural phenomena. Animals, certainly, learn by
experience, and often guide their lives as wisely by
it, as most men do. Birds fear hawks instinctively ;
but they learn, by experience, that man and many
other things are to be dreaded, and the conditions
under which they are most dangerous. The crow
learns that men walking alone, are apt to be dan-
gerous ; and that when riding, they are compara-
tively harmless. He soon allows the train of cars
to thunder by him, while he sits by the road side,
as unmoved by its roar, and fire, and smoke, and
engineers, as he is by the clouds that pass over him.
He has learned that locomotives, and the men on
them, are not dangerous to crows.

The elephant, that has broken through a bridge,
fears to trust himself upon another, until he has
satisfied himself that it is safe. Old animals learn
to fear dangerous things, which young animals may
be destroyed by, and to disregard other things, that
frighten the young. There is. In this respect, a very
wide range of experience for many animals. The
same kinds of animals vary in their knowledge, ac-
cording to their age and opportunity of learning,
as men do.

Probably there is no such thing as stupidity in
Instinct proper. It is a difficult question to settle;
but we judge so, on account of the great uniformity
9^^

202 histinct.

in the work of those animals, Hke bees and silk*
worms, the work of which must be entirely instinct-
ive. Natural selection would secure uniformity,
within certain limits ; and there probably is, as we
have before suggested, the same sort of variation
of Instinct, in the same species, as there is of or-
ganic structure ; but so far as we can judge, the dif-
ference, in the work of insects of the same kind,
seems to arise from some disease or trouble with
the functions of the body ; and not with the In-
stinct, as a guiding power.

But there certainly are intelligent, and stupid
animals, — animals without experience, and those
with an experience, which they turn to good ac-
count. Horses and dogs differ almost as much, in
their ability to learn from their own experience, or
to be taught by their masters, as men do.

But, it is said by some, that this apparent learn-
ing, from experience and observation, is only a low
form of association of remembered sensations and is
never connected with real thinking. As an asser-
tion, this statement can have but little weight ; and,
as a proposition, we have yet to see it sustained by
any satisfactory proof. We see the same effects
in animals, which we know come from thinking in us,
— we see that certain acts of theirs are the same as
we perform, and we find the conditions so entirely the
same in both cases, that we feel called upon, in all
honesty, to infer thinking in the animal, until we can
find an argument against it better than those that
consist in denial, or which start from premises that
beg the whole question.

Taming and Trapphig. 203

The whole process of taming and training ani-
mals depends upon the fact that they learn by ex-
perience. When a wild squirrel is first caught, he
trembles with fear, and his heart throbs, as your
own would, at the roar of a lion in the jungle, or the
war-whoop of the savage close at hand. He de-
fends himself instinctively, with all his power, and
with the weapons nature has given him. Now put
him in a cage, and daily feed him, and treat him
kindly, if that is possible while he is caged. By de-
grees, he trusts you more and more, until he is tame,
and trusts you implicitly. His instincts are not
changed. He still fears what he considers danger-
ous ; but he has learned, by experience, that you
are not dangerous, though he once judged you to
be so.

The whole art of trapping animals consists in
deceiving their judgment. This judgment is to a
certain degree, instinctive, as we have shown ; but
it certainly is not entirely so, in the case of the
higher animals. They become cunning as they are
hunted. No animal knows instinctively, that iron
is dangerous ; as may be readily proved. Rats will
run overall sorts of iron utensils, until one is caught
in a trap ; and after that, his fellows generally ^\yq
that particular piece of iron-mongery, a wide berth.
If it persistently remains at the rat-hole, and snaps
up a few, which have not learned the danger, that
hole will be deserted, as a dangerous place for rats.
A fox learns that a trap is dangerous only when
It is set ; and, sometimes, the trapper has to match
his wit against that of the fox, and often finds him-

204 histinct.

self outwitted in the end. The fox will dig out
his trap and spring it, and then take all the bait
Such old fellows have been caught by turning the
trap upside down, so that the fox was evidently
caught, as he dug under the trap, to spring it.
When an animal thus gives a trapper extra trouble,
he knows well before it is caught, that it is an old
one, — one which, in addition to the instinctive cun-
ning and knowledge common to the species, as
their necessary outfit in life, has a good fund of ex-
perience gained, as men gain theirs, by hardships
and dangers.

There is one fact connected with the fear of
enemies among animals, that is worthy of attention,
though we do not feel sure, at all, that we have any
satisfactory explanation for it.

That individual animals should become wild, by
being hunted, is easily accounted for ; but all the
animals of a particular district soon become wild
after men begin to hunt there. The character of
the whole species, in that place, seems to be changed.
This is observed to be true, even, of fishes. When
the western counties of Massachusetts were first
settled, the trout were easily taken in the streams ;
but now their whole character seems to be changed,
to a degree very difficult to be accounted for, on
the theory of individual experience ; so that we
are driven to the conclusion, either that there is a
method of communication among these low ani-
mals, or that the timidity of the parent, acquired
from danger, and a particular form of danger, is
very readily transmitted to the young. This latter

Difference m Habits. 20";

explanation seems the most plausible : and it will
probably be found that those low animals, to which
is denied the power of transmitting knowledge to
their descendants, by tradition, have given to them
a physical susceptibility, so that the benefits of ex-
perience are transmitted to the young, in regard to
those things needful for the preservation of the spe-
cies. This would be in harmony with the general
plan of creation, as manifested in other provisions
for the preservation of the species, by the plasticity
of their nature ; and it accounts for the observed
facts in domestication, and among the wild animals.
One has only to visit the coast of Iceland, where
the Eider-ducks are protected by the inhabitants,
and the coast of Greenland, where these birds are
hunted by the Esquimaux, to see the marked dif-
ference in their habits, in the two places. In Ice-
land, they are almost as tame as domestic fowls ;
while in those parts of Greenland, where they have
been hunted, they are among the most wary of
birds. We simply call attention to the subject,
and leave it for future observers to give us suffi-
cient data for determining, with certainty, the true
cause of that sudden change in all the animals of
a region, after a new form of danger appears among
them.

If animals learn by experience, this fact alone
would settle the question of memory. But facts
are abundant showing that animals remember faces
even, and that for years. They often remember
what happens but once ; nor does this process of
memory seem to be a mere bald association of

2o6 Instinct,

ideas, connecting persons and places with pleasure
and pain, only when those persons or places are
again perceived by the senses. There are some
facts which seem to show that there is, in the ani-
mal, a sphere in which mental reproduction is as
independent of sensible objects, and as perfect, as
in man. The hound, that has been hunting, often
dreams of the chase. His limbs move, and he
barks and pants for breath, in his eagerness. If
now he is suddenly awaked, it is amusing to see
him rapidly glance around him, as though looking to
see where the game has vanished. After, apparent-
ly, satisfying himself that it was only a dream, he
settles back, for a second sleep, with all the gravity
of a man.

From all these facts, we infer that through
the senses, men and the higher animals have the
same kind of sensations, — that pleasure and pain
are brought to both, through the nervous system,
under similar conditions. That they have the same
kind of emotions, is inferred, because the same
manifestations through the physical system, that
indicate fear, joy, anger, and shame in us, are seen
in them, under just such circumstances, as would
call forth those emotions in man.

In a word, then, the appetites and desires, so far
as we can trace them, in men and animals are alike.
Animals remember places, persons, and events.
They love and hate. Harsh words and blows repel
them, and often render them vicious. Kind words
and good treatment will secure their confidence,
good service, and affection. They learn much from

The Governing Principle, 207

their own experience ; and, especially, they are able
to come into such relations to man, as to com
prehend his desires and perform his commands.

All these operations certainly involve thinking,
as we have defined the word, and as it is generally
used. If we accept some different definition, — one
that eliminates all these elements, or which intro-
duces such elements as cannot be indicated by any
of these manifestations, of which dumb animals are
capable, let us know just what this definition is.
When we have the definition, it will be for the one
giving it to show, by something more than mere asser-
tion, that animals are excluded, even according to
his own definition, from the list of thinking beings.

What then, in the animal, is the governing prin-
ciple? We say, INSTINCT, or the spontaneous,
self-directing activities, in distinction from free In-
telligence, a degree of which animals possess. This
we attempted briefly to show in the last lecture ;
and shall more fully illustrate, when treating of man.
But at this point of the discussion we wish to say,
that while we concede Intelligence to the higher
animals, in distinction from Instinct, we find noth-
ing in them that can control Instinct, or any power
by which the animal may be said to control its own
destiny. One instinct may, from certain circum-
stances, control another; as when parental love
overcomes the fear of danger ; but when we consid-
er the acts oT animals, as a whole, we find them so
completely under the dominion of the instinctive
principles, that the results are almost precisely the
same in all the thousands of a given species. It is

2o8 Instinct,

this control of Instinct, making Intelligence a ser^
vant^ rather than accepting it as a master, which
gives the uniform plane to the life of animals, of the
same species, when left to themselves. This con-
trol of Instinct, as being the leading power in the
animal, is so apparent, that it probably accounts for
much of the reluctance, on the part of many, to rec-
ognize Intelligence in animals at all. It is natural
to think of Intelligence, wherever it is present, as
ruling Instinct ; because it thus rules in man. But
because Intelligence in animals, takes its place as a
servant, under the control of Instinct, it has, in
many cases, been entirely overlooked, or its exist-
ence denied. It has been taken for granted, that
Intelligence must rule, wherever it is present. In
water, there Is cohesion sufficient to form a liquid,
but gravitation rules ; and the current of water
moves on as this force determines. Cohesion plays
a subordinate part, and only enables gravitation to
give the water greater power, as It moves. When
cohesion Increases, by the fall of temperature, gravi-
tation still acts upon the particles, but It no longer
controls their movements. The icicle holds firmly
in Its place, the frozen river refuses to flow, and
crystals of ice shoot upward, in mockery of gravita-
tion. In water, cohesion is the servant of gravita-
tion ; in Ice, it becomes its master, though it can never
escape wholly from its power. So, Intelligence in
the animal, like cohesion in water, must bend all its
energies in obedience to the instinctive principles,
which control the actions of animals, as gravitation
does the particles of water. But in man, Intelli-

Rights of Anhnals, 209

gence has become like cohesion, in ice and in the
soHd rock, which keeps them in form, and gives
strength to the iron, and beauty of form to the crys-
tal, in spite of gravitation, though they never escape
wholly from its power.

From this capacity of animals for suffering and
enjoyment, we infer that they have rights, though
this is denied, on technical ground, as their power
of thinking has been denied.

Animals have the right to get all the good out
of life they can, in subordination to the higher be-
ings placed over them. It is said animals have no
conception of such rights, and therefore cannot
have them. That they have no such conception
remains to be proved ; but in the mean time, we
appeal to the sense of kindness implanted in their
masters, till that is blunted by brutality, or a phi-
losophy that has Httle to recommend it.

An invasion of their right to enjoyment, they
instinctively repel. And the natural feelings of
men, cry out against any wanton infliction of pain
upon dumb animals. Those who torment them, are
always cruel to men. The laws justly protect them
against cruel masters ; and in these laws, the com-
munity recognizes the rights of animals. Such laws
ought to be better enforced than they are. The
bodily suffering of animals may not be as keen, as
that of a man, — if it were, they could hardly endure,
as long as they do, all the cruelties practised upon
them, through thoughtlessness, pride, anger and
avarice.

210 Instinct,

It Is difficult to prove that there is, in the an-
imal, any sense of injustice, though there are man-
ifestations that look as though there might be. In
some cases, the punishment he inflicts, is not for
defence, but, plainly, on account of some long re-
membered abuse. But so helpless are animals,
against the cruel wrongs practised upon them, that
their sufferings, for the moment, make every honest
man indignant, almost every time he passes through
the streets. One would be glad to believe that an-
imals are spared suffering from a sense of injustice
— that keenest pang which man is called upon to
endure.

LECTURE IX.

INSTINCT IN MAN GROWING OUT OF HIS APPE-
TITES.— ANIMAL IN THEIR ORIGIN.

Man and Animals compared. — Observation and study a necessity for
Man. — The higher Ruling Principle. — Free Personality. — Com-
plexity of Mans Nature. — Origin and use of the Appetites. — Nar-
row range of Animal Instinct in the child. — Nursing. — Fear. —
Moral Instincts. — Animal Ijtstincts to be governed. — Marriage . —
The desires. — Desire of Life, of Knowledge, of Power, of Esteem,
of Society. — Revolutions and Reformations, — Summation of
Activities.

Man is called a rational being, in distinction from
the brutes. He is certainly entitled to this distinc-
tion, as a being in whom Reason ought to control
all the activities. Has he Instinct, — the same in
kind as we have found among the lower animals ?
We have attempted to show that animals have In-
telligence ; but Intelligence subordinated to their
Instinct, which always controls, so that almost uni-
form results are secured, among animals of the same
species, when left to themselves. It has so long
been taken for granted, by a large class of writers,
that animals possess nothing but Instinct, to account
for their actions, that the assertion, that they pos-
sess Intelligence, shocks many, as an attempt to
break down the distinction between man and brutes.

212 Instinct.

And the assertion, which we now make, that man
has a wider range of Instinct than any other animal
on the globe, may be regarded as another attempt
to break down the distinction, upon which we pride
ourselves. We make no attempt to break down
distinctions. We wish to find them, where nature
has placed them, — as we mark distinctions in a nat-
ural classification, — and not to invent distinctions,
or make them where they only seem to exist, on
account of some accidental characteristic, as is done
in artificial systems of classification.

If man has, in him, something higher than an
animal, it does not destroy his animal nature ; but
it is something added to that nature. This animal
nature of man, we are first to consider ; for it is an
essential part of us, while we remain in this world.
We have already shown that the bodies of the high-
er animals are essentially the same as those of men.
The bones, and muscles, and nerves, in both corre-
spond ; modified only according to the habits of
each. We are of the earth, as well as they. We
have no element, in our bodies, not found in theirs.
Our bodies are subject to the same laws as theirs,
in every respect, except as they have given to them
certain changes of activities, to fit them for special
modes of life, as in the case of hibernation. We
find in ourselves, no new law of physiology. Every
effort costs the waste of tissue, in the ox which
turns the furrow, and in the husbandman, who
holds the plough. Hunger, thirst, weariness and
sleep come to both alike. That the human body
is all animal, there can be no doubt. And, as an

Impulses. 2 1 3

animal, man has precisely the same instincts, in
kind, as other animals ; and to the number and de-
gree, that he needs them, according to the same
principle, which we have found to prevail among
the lower animals. We have found Instinct to be
simply a method of action, involving impulse to per-
form the act, and knowledge and skill enough, with-
out experience, to supplement a parent's care. We
have found that nature gives just as Httle Instinct
as possible everywhere; and leaves as much to ex-
perience as possible, without endangering the loss
of the species. If she gives more instinctive knowl-
edge to the young of any kind, it is because she
gives less to the parent ; giving most of all to those
young, which never know a parent's care. Now,
applying these principles rigidly to man, as an ani-
mal, we should expect him to possess animal in-
stincts, mainly as impulses. We should expect him
to have little of instinctive knowledge or skill, be-
cause the parent is able to supply both, and has
the natural affection, or instinctive love, to ensure
the proper action, or the best action according to
her judgment. She is guided mainly, by experi-
ence. Instinct never gives her perfect knowledge
and skill, as it sometimes does the lower animals.
The whole machinery of man's nature, is so ar-
ranged that observation and study have always been
demanded, and always will be demanded. While the
instincts of the child and parent commence in im-
pulses, just as they do in all other animals, the
knowledge and skill are left to be acquired. And
this knowledge can be increased, from generation

214 histinct.

to generation. Here, then, in what, at first sight,
might seem to be the imperfection of the animal
instincts in man, we find the intimation of his high
nature, — his capacity for improvement, and the ne-
cessity for it, — and also the intimation that IntelH-
gence must guide him, even as an animal ; for his
instincts, which are mainly impulses, only lead or
drive him to ruin, unless they are directed and con-
trolled. Intelligence here must be the master of
instinctive action, and not its servant, as among
the lower animals.

It is in the supersensuous part of our being alone
that we must look for something different in kind,
from what we find in animals. That we shall find
such a principle, we have no doubt ; because we
see in man results which mere animal powers show
no tendency to reach. This principle is that, in man,
which is highest in kind, and which ought to rule
his whole being. It should be autocrat among the
powers. It should, from its throne above in the
higher nature, rule all below, — making Intellect it-
self an instrument, — as bodily instincts rule in the
animal. The instincts of the animal grow out of
his bodily organization — and, so far as the animal
is concerned, they begin and end with that. The
higher power in us, which should rule the body,
sometimes demands of a man, that he rise above
every animal instinct, and give up even life itself,
although there may be none to admire or recount
his deeds. He may be so true to himself, as to de-
liberately accept of death — die for the truth.

With every man, is the choice between the rule

Mingling of Activities. 215

of his higher, and lower nature. Though walled
around by fate, or the laws of nature in the world
without, and the laws of nature in his own structure
and animal instincts, there is yet left to him, a
throne of sovereignty, — which he may mount, if he
choose, — from which, he declares what powers in
him shall be servants, and which masters, for the
time. He appoints the bounds of each, or he could
not be a responsible being. Here we come to the
mystery oi free personality.

The instinctive powers of the higher nature, are
ever present in man, and their agency is so intimate-
ly blended with the agency of the animal instincts,
— sometimes wisely controlling them and sometimes
basely yielding, while they run riot and defeat the
very ends for which they were given, — that it is al-
most as impossible to separate the activities of the
two natures in man, as to discern with the unaided
eye, the yellow red and blue, that are woven togeth-
er in the sunlight. We need a psychological prism,
which shall completely untangle the web, and show
the animal and the image of God, that together
make up this complex being, man. In the animal,
all is beautifully simple. Every impression, from
without, awakens impulses which he may follow to
the full demand of his nature, with profit either to
himself or his species. His simple nature is self-
poised. If harm comes to him, as an individual, it
is in following an instinct, which he was made to
follow, and which will, upon the whole, bring good
to his race, when followed to its full demand. But
every impression in man, that wakens the animal

2i6 Instinct,

instincts, wakes with them, a watchful guardian,
which was appointed to give them their bounds,
and tell them when to act, and when to remain in
quiet, though their strength may be that of Titans.

As we enumerate the animal instinctive princi-
ples in man, let it be understood then, that we re-
gard them as constantly modified by a higher con-
stitution, or principle of action, of which we shall
in the future speak.

As we compared animals with men, to show that
they have something of that Intelligence, which
appears full-orbed in man, so now we must compare
men with animals once more, to show that our life
begins on the same plane with theirs. The frog
and the fish both begin their lives as animals of the
same kind. The young frog is, to all appearances,
a fish ; but there is in him, from the beginning, a
principle of organization that will in the end, give
him lungs, and enable him to live in the upper air ;
while the fish must continue to breath by gills, dur-
ing his whole life. So man begins his life, to all
outward appearances, as the lower animals begin
theirs, — more helpless, indeed, because his helpless-
ness is supplemented by the enduring love and care
of the mother.

The occasion for most of the lower forms of
activity, in animals and men, are the appetites, as we
have shown. They arise as naturally, from the phys-
iological condition of the body, as hair grows upon
the head or nails upon the fingers. It is as difficult
to account for the origin of one of these, as for that
of the other, and no more so. There are connected

Relation of the Young to the Mother. 217

with the body still other forms of impulse and guid-
ance, that secure purely automatic, or reflex action.
But in the appetites, we find the first provision for
those constantly recurring activities, which lead to
definite, voluntary action, and are plainly provided
for the preservation of the individual and the spe-
cies— so powerful in their demands, that they can-
not be forgotten, nor be neglected without produ-
cing suffering and injury. When Appetite calls. In-
stinct answers by some voluntary act. The nature
of that first instinctive act varies as much as the de-
gree of perfection of organs, with which the animal
comes into the world, and for the same reason.
The bodily organs of the animal vary just in propor-
tion to the ability of the mother to take care of
him ; and the same is true of his instincts. Each
animal, from the lowest to man, has just enough
of organization and of Instinct, to supplement the
care which the mother is ready to bestow upon him ;
and this care of the mother, depends upon the struct-
ure and functions of her body and her instincts.
Among the fishes, or most of them, no parent's care
is needed. The organization and instincts of the
young fish are sufficient to preserve life from the be-
ginning. As soon as the material in the ^gg is con-
sumed, from which the fish was hatched, he is ready
to hunt food for himself. As the period arrives, when
other instincts are needed, they appear, as the dif-
ferent parts of his body appeared in the ^gg, at the
proper time.

Many insects come into their highest form, with
organs and instincts perfect, from the first moment
10

2 1 8 Instmct.

of that life. Birds that cannot fly, walk, or see when
they are hatched, have mothers, which build nests,
in anticipation of their coming, and have the in-
stinct to bring them the food they need. The
chickens and young partridges leave the nest at
once, pick the food which the mother finds, and
often find it for themselves. They gather under the
wings of the mother for warmth, and sometimes for
protection, but rush from her in such danger as she
cannot protect them from.

The Opossum and all the marsupial tribe, have
young more immature than other animals, but the
mother has a pouch, in which they are securely
carried. Their imperfect development, at birth,
is just supplemented by this curious special struct-
ure in the parent. These are instances for illus-
tration, but the result may be summed up thus :
The structure and Instinct of the yoiuig at birth, and
th£ structure and Instinct of the mother combi7ied,
are just sufficient to give the young a fair chance
in the world, so that the species may be preserved ; —
07ie of these elements supplements the other. If the
chances are still largely against the individual, so
that the species would seem to be in danger, then
the number of individuals from a single parent is
increased.

The same law holds in general, in the human
race. The child is one of the most helpless of all
beings, as it commences life ; and it is dependent
upon the care of others much longer than any other
animal with which we are acquainted. But its long
years of helplessness are provided for in the natural

Reflex A ctions, 2 1 9

love of parents, and the common feelings of hu-
manity and considerations of the public good.
These all become strengthened in man, just in pro-
portion as he rises above the condition of an ani-
mal.

But what of the child's animal instincts ? They
are brought within the narrowest limits, but appear
in regular order as he develops, as we have seen to
be true of all other animals. At the demand of
appetite, the child is as ready to nurse, as the young
bird is to raise its head for food. — This, we consider
a purely instinctive act. We know attempts have
been made, by very high authorities,"^ to show that
this act of the child is not instinctive, but simply a
reflex action, — in the beginning, entirely involun-
tary. We cannot believe this, at all. But if it
could be proved, it would only show that in the hu-
man species, a reflex action is provided for, which
simulates and takes the place of Instinct, in the lower
animals. If the act is not instinctive, it is certainly
lower ; as all reflex actions are lower than instinctive,
and supplementary to them, in both animals and
men.

As soon as the child can discern, it instinctively
fears danger, before it can possibly have learned, by
experience, that there is danger. It fears a strang-
er's face, and clings to its mother for protection, be-
fore it has any rational ground for fearing any one.
It has, like an animal, instinctive dread of danger,
but it has not yet learned what is dangerous. It
needs a mother's care ; but all her cautions in
* Maudsley, p. 63 ; and others.

220 Instinct.

childhood, would have little effect, were it not for
this instinctive fear. This supplements her care,
and instructions, — it is all that gives her warnings
any weight, until later, the child's instinctive love
for her, and love of approbation and reward, lend
their aid ; and finally, the high Instinct of his
moral nature, of which '' OUGHT " is the natural
expression, is ready to take the helm. Henceforth
his activities may be ruled by this higher nature, as
the animal's are from his lower. He will make mis-
takes, even while that rules; but he can grow in
knowledge evermore, while the animal, having
knowledge sufficient to secure life, given to him
without experience, can never make acquirements
higher than his bodily instincts can use, in their
narrow round.

When, later in life, the son seeks a wife, and the
daughter leaves her home, and goes forth to cast
her lot, for life, with a comparative stranger, we see
an exhibition of Instinct that is a marvel — one
that often defies all the dictates and controlling
power of boasted Reason. It is all very well and
right to talk of sensible marriages ; and of law, as
regulating marriage ; that is all right ; because man
is made to control his animal instincts — to bring
one into subordination to another. And his in-
stinct to form Society, and protect it, so as to
secure the good of the whole, leads him, through
the agency of his higher intellectual and moral na-
ture, to prescribe certain rules by which individual
instincts shall be governed. By prescribing rules
for the animal instincts, and by punishing the unre-

Control of Instincts, 221

strained action of those Instincts as a crime, man
shows at once, that his governing power is higher in
kind, than his animal nature. But if he is wise, he
never attempts to entirely check an instinct, but
he directs it into the right course and then favors
it, to its full activity, in subordination to Reason.
And the right course of the appetites and instincts
in man, can only be learned by experience. And
just in proportion as there is ability to learn by
experience, is there chance for loss before the ex-
perience comes. Liability to suffering from igno-
rance, and ability to improve by experience, are as
necessary polarities, in the same being, as capacity
for suffering and enjoyment are necessary polarities.
As much as one is diminished, so much is the other
weakened ; as by weakening the polarity of one
end of a magnet, you weaken the other at the same
time. As, in man, the ability to profit from expe-
rience is at its maximum, because he can avail him-
self of the experience of others in the past as Vv-ell
as present, so is the danger of loss from ignorance,
in following the instincts which in him, are simply
impulses, and never fully directive, as they are
among the lower animals. They are powerful —
must be heeded — but in general need instruction
and law to direct them ; both of which, to be of any
value, must be simply the echo of experience.
They never will be perfect, till they are the true
echoes of the best possible experience.

So then marriage, high and holy as it is, around
which all that is most lovely, and pure, and sacred
on earth, centres, has its origin in the instinctive

222 Instinct,

nature of the race — in the same instincts, that ap-
pear in all the higher animals, which even there are
so beautiful that the philosopher is made to say, —

" In parental care and nuptial love,
I learn my duties from the dove."

Those who think the instincts of humanity are
to be ignored, in the relation of the sexes, forget
that man has an animal nature ; and those who
think the instincts are a sufficient guide, forget
that he belongs to that noble class, who are permit-
ted to learn, and to become wiser by new experi-
ence in every generation. They both shoot wide
of the mark, — or, to use another figure, while they
are looking at the same shield, they are gazing upon
opposite sides ; and while they thus stand, there is
no chance for agreement as to all the devices and
inscriptions which the shield bears.

The DESIRES are generally regarded as distinct
from the Instincts. There is certainly no ground
for this distinction, if we consider their method of
action, and remember that some instincts involve
impulse as well as guidance. Some of the desires
have the same relation to the welfare of the being,
as the appetites have ; that is, — they are impulses
to action — instinctive impulses — the foundation of
both instinctive and intelligent acts. Their action
is often complex, and often intertwined with the
action of the acknowledged appetites and instincts
But the confusion has arisen, mainly, from regard-
ing Instinct as a distinct thing, rather than as a

Desires. 223

certain method of action common to all classes of
powers, in all beings with which we are acquainted,
either as the sole condition of their life, or the first
condition of their intelligent action. The desires
are thought to belong to the mind, rather than to
the body; and this is undoubtedly true of some
of them, for they neither originate from any func-
tion of the body, nor have special reference to its
welfare. It is their method of action, which we
now consider, and not the plane or sphere of their
activity. But then we find a certain similarity of
action running through every plane of being. The
tree must feed, digest and assimilate, — so must the
body of man, — so must his mind, — so must his
moral nature. There is a wonderful similarity run-
ning through the whole, in the substratum of each
new plane ; though something new may be added,
as we go up from plane to plane. Man is made up
of layers, like the geologic strata. As we come up
through the formations of the earth, new forms of
life appear, higher and better than those before ;
but they are cast according to the same types that
we found below. There is unity of plan, though
no necessary connection of actual relationship, of
one form with the other. So man, in his unity,
like the globe, appears in stratas, — vegetative life,
animal life, intellectual life, moral life, — all proceed-
ing with so much similarity of action, that it is not
strange, these stages are considered by some, as
simply different degrees of development of the
lowest ; as man himself is regarded by some, as the
offspring of some lower animal.

224 Instinct,

The desire of life, which is sometimes placed
above the instincts, as belonging to the mind, is
certainly one of the lowest of the instincts, in the
sense of being the broadest, and as being only an
impulse. It gives rise to a whole series of definite
instinctive acts among animals, and of rational acts,
Among men^ which tend to preserve life. This is
true, to some extent, of the remaining desires, —
desire of knowledge, desire of power, of property,
of esteem, and of society. These are the basis of
the social nature of man. The last leads him to
seek society, the others tend to regulate society, —
are impulses and hints for experience to build
upon. " Men," says Emerson,* " as naturally make
a state, or a church, as caterpillars a web ; " and
this is true ; because the impulses and the hints are
in them. But while the caterpillars have, for them-
selves, one best form of web, which appears as reg-
ularly, with each new, uninstructed and inexperi-
enced brood, as the number of rings in their bod-
ies, or the color of the hairs and spots that cover
them, man is left to work out the best form of
state-web or church-web, for himself; by entangling
himself and fellows, in all sorts of make-shifts,
which may be a curse to him, or may be well
enough, in one age or one part of the world, but
perhaps are no more fitted for him as he grows,
than the bark of the young sapling is fitted for
the trunk of the full grown tree. The bark of the
tree, and the web of both state and church, must

* " Conduct of Life/' p. 176.

Progress, 225

be rent and thrown off, while larger bark, and
more enlightened forms of government, in state and
church, take their place; unless they can all grow
in time to save the rending. They must all yield
to the demands of that expanding organism, which
they were made to serve ; be it the tree-trunk, or
society. Revolutions and reformations are the
rending of the old exuvice of state and church,
under the promptings of a higher life. This tran-
sition period, necessary for more perfect growth, is
the most critical time for animals and men.

The first impulse then, to every voluntary act
in man, that is necessary to preserve the hfe of the
individual, the continuance of the species and the
formation of society, seems to be as purely instinct-
ive, as any act of an animal. But the impulse, to
all these acts in man, must be limited, and, in most
cases, directed in him, by some higher principle,
which can act rightly only in the light of experi-
ence ; while in the animal. Instinct not only gives
the impulse, but is self-directive, and self-Hmiting,
or is limited in its action by the vegetative func-
tions of the body. The animal, in a state of na-
ture, finds his highest perfection in going just as
far as Instinct and function of organs will allow.
Man, giving himself up to such influences, without
the guidance and limitation, which his intellect-
ual nature affords, and which his moral nature
demands, sinks below the brutes, as a matter of
course.

We have thus far used the word INSTINCT for
10*

226 Instinct,

convenience, nearly in the sense given by Whately
as a blind tendency to some mode of action inde-
pendant of any consideration, on the part of the
agent, of the end to which the action leads. This
is as good a definition as any that has been given,
but it does not cover the whole ground of instinct-
ive action, as we have shown more than once, dur-
ing the course of these lectures. It is well for us
at this point, to enumerate all the powers or activ-
ities, which we have now found in the higher ani-
mals and man, which they have, to some degree,
in common. It is in this w^ay only, that we can
point out the true nature and sphere of Instinct in
both, and this we desire to do, whether we are able
to give a single definition which will be satisfactory
or not.

1. We find Physiological agencies, by which the
body is built up and repaired, and provision made
for the reproduction of the species. These agen-
cies belong to the vegetative life of the animal
and man ; volition has no direct control in any of
their operations. They supply the conditions for
voluntary action.

2. We find a sensitive nature, by which the ani-
mal is brought into relations to the world, by sen-
sation and sense — perception. This is the true an-
imal nature.

3. We find certain reflex actions, the result of
stimuli acting upon the vegetative and animal na-
ture. They are involuntary movements required
for the benefit of the body — as winking, coughing,
sneezing, and the like.

Products of Instmct. 227

4. We find the appetites, which arise from the
functions of organs, but are powerful stimuli to
action.

All these are conditions for voluntary activity ;
and upon these the instincts, including the desires,
begin to appear, — and they involve several distinct
things, as follows :

a. — Impulse, arising beyond the sphere of the ap-
petites, — as the impulse to migrate and to store
food for winter, — also the desires, so-called.

b. — Knowledge without instruction or experience^
for meeting the demands of the appetites and desires^
and for doing all those things essential to the con-
tinuance of the race,

c. — Knowledge arising independently of the ap-
petites, — as recognition of certain enemies without
instruction, or experience.

d. — Skill without instruction or practice, — to carry
out the plans necessary to meet the demands of the
appetites and other impulses required for the exist-
ence of the species.

These three distinct things are involved in the
manifestations of those activities, which are togeth-
er labelled INSTINCT, — Impulse, knowledge and skill,
— they are all given, as needed to begin life, — as or-
gans are given for the same purpose. These pro-
ducts of the animal's being determine nothing of
his rank. They simply say, " We are here, because
this atmnal must live — we are here to meet the condi-
tions of his life, till he has a chance for experience.
If he is 7iot to have that, we must go farther and do

228 Instinct,

the whole work; and do it so that the wisest being on
the globe cannot improve upon our workj though we
work through BEES a7id SPIDERS and WORMS — the
lowest forms that live.

Next above the instincts, we have found Intelli-
gence, which enables the actor to comprehend the
probable results of his own acts before they are put
forth. It may rise much higher than this, but here
its work begins. All these activities and powers
here enumerated, we find in man and in the high-
est of the lower animals. So far, certainly, the an-
imals differ from each other, and from man, only in
degree. But while all these activities take their
rise in the animal nature, they shoot up higher in
man, and so interweave themselves with every no-
bler power, that we shall find them constantly re-ap-
pearing, as we consider the higher nature of man.
So intimately blended are the natural affections
with the moral nature of man, that even the natu-
ral affections of animals, which give them a social
nature, have been referred to by some, as proof of
a moral nature in them. We hope to make plain
the distinction between these two natures, before
the close of these lectures.

LECTURE X.

RELATION OF THE INSTINCTIVE PRINCIPLES OF
ACTION TO THE RATIONAL AND MORAL NA-
TURE OF MAN.

Intuitions and Instincts. — Something must be given as a basis for
Reasoning and for acting. — Agricultural Ants. — Belief in the uni-
formity of Natural phenomena, from observation. — Instinct acts in
reference to contingent events. — Purposes for which Instinctive
Principles are needed by man. — The Desires. — The Affections. —
Love of Society. — Knowledge, Property, Power, Esteem. — Faith. —
Benevolence. — Need of guidance in man. — The Ruling Power. —
Conflict between the higher and lower Ifistincts. — The Comprehend-
hig Power. — Difference between man and the highest animals. —
" OUGHT." — Sense of obligation.

That man would have animal instincts, as an im-
pulse at least, we should expect, since his body has
essentially the same structure, and the same rela-
tions to the world, as have the bodies of all the
higher animals. It now comes in order for us to
inquire, if there is Instinct, or any principle of ac-
tion like Instinct, reaching into his rational nature ;
in virtue of which nature, he is wont to claim great
superiority over the lower animals, and difference
from them in kind. We are also called upon to
trace more fully than we have done, the connection
between the animal instincts and this higher nature
of man, that we may learn how far they are modi-

230 Instinct.

fied by it, and to reach, if possible, that guiding
and controlling power for all the activities, of which
we have spoken.

It is generally conceded by Psychologists, that
man, as a rational being, has certain intuitive no-
tions in regard to being, quantity, causality and
the like. It belongs to Mental and Moral Philos-
ophy to treat of these notions fully. But we are
here called upon to mark more clearly, than we
have done, the difference between hituition and an-
other principle in the higher nature of man, which
seems to be the same in its method of action as ac-
knowledged Instinct, hituitions belong to us as ra-
tional beings simply; Instmcts, as beings called
upon to act. We believe some things instinctively,
and some things intnitively. The words have been
often used interchangeably, though, in general, they
have been so used as to show that there ought to
be a difference between them. We will start with
a distinction, which we trust our past and future
discussions will, when taken together, show to be a
just one.

Instinct belongs to beings, as acting, and so
relates to the nature and possible combination of
things, and the order of events. Our knowledge
of these, and of our right relations to them, even
in the highest realm, is secured partly by instinct-
ive action ; and necessarily so, because Instinct
gives all that is necessary for action, which we can-
not learn by observation and experience, — all that
is necessary as a basis for experience, as well as the
impulse to perform certain acts.

hituition. 231

Intuition, on the other hand, relates to ab-
stract truth, to all that is necessary as a basis for
correct reasoning, and for conducting the process,
— whether in the field of pure intellect or morals.
What we know intuitively, will always be true.
What we know instinctively, Is true only because
this order of things is what it is. What we know
intuitively, we cannot believe to be different from
what it is, — it is in this sense, necessary truth.
What we believe instinctively, might be different
from what it is — it is continge7it.

Instinct, then, has the same relation to action
that Intuition has to thought, or the logical pro-
cess. In all reasoning, something must be given as
known. If this were not done, no reasoning would
be possible. In acting, something must be given as
an impulse and as an initial directing power , or knowl-
edge from experience would be impossible, — there
would, in our actions, be no relation to the universe
in which we are placed.

The use of Instinct to animals and men, is to
give them impulses to action, and guidance in
spheres where the appetites, as functional, cannot
reach, to start them in the right direction, and to
add impulses on the way, at the same time giving
such knowledge and skill as could not be gained
by experience, — or perhaps better, to secure from
them such action as could not otherwise be secured,
without such an experience as would be destruc-
tive to such beings, and thus be constantly defeat-
ing the end for which they were made. We can
best illustrate this principle by referring once more

232 Ltstinct.

to examples in the animal kingdom already men-
tioned. The fowl has an instinctive fear of death,
of which it knows nothing as yet. Fear is given
to secure the requisite action, without experience,
because the experience of death would be final, —
there would be, after that, no chance left to profit
by the experience. Therefore a fear is given to
act instinctively, just as though the animal had
learned all the terrors of death, by experience.
Certain animals, also, are thrown upon the world
without any parental protection. All such animals
act, from the beginning, in securing food and car-
ing for themselves, as though they had already
learned many things by experience. The young
Salmon wakes to Hfe far up in the cold waters of
the mountain streams, perhaps. There is no pa-
rent, and no fish of experience there to guide
him, or from which he can learn. At least, if he
learned from the fishes in the river at all, it would
be to remain there. But when the proper time
comes, all the thousands of young Salmon start for
the sea as their appropriate home, although they
have never seen it. They act exactly as though
they had had experience of the provisions of the
sea for their use ; and it is necessary for their well-
being that they should so act. So much of im-
pulse and direction must be given to them, if the
species is to exist at all. The fow4, also, has not
only the generic fear of death, instinctively, which
is common to all animals, but it has an instinctive
fear of certain things which might produce death.
The fowl, that has never seen a hawk, and can

Uniformity of Nature, 233

know nothing of his nature from experience, Is
convulsed with terror at the sight of him. This
enemy is known instinctively, because it is so dead-
ly an enemy that knowledge by experience would
be impossible to the fowl ; or, at least, destructive
to the species. It is necessary for the preservation
of the species, that a fowl should fear a hawk in-
stinctively, as well as that it should fear death in-
stinctively ; and so it has the fear of both, as an
original outfit.

The abstract notion of cause and effect, and of
their necessary relation to each other. Is intuitive.
This notion is necessary for some of the highest
processes of reasoning known to man, if. Indeed, we
could have any notion of such processes without
the gift to us of this primary knowledge. But
that belief in the uniformity of nature which In-
fluences action, is not intuitive — it Is partly instinct-
ive and partly from experience, in both man and
animals. Instinctive knowledge or belief, as a ba-
sis of action, is given to both, just as far as It is
needful for commencing the work which experience
can complete, without involving the absurdity of
destroying the species in gaining the experience.
And therefore Instinct gives m.uch more impulse
and guidance in regard to nature, to animals, than
it does to man, and much more to some species of
animals than to others. Facts illustrative of this
statement will occur to every observer ; but it may
not be amiss to discuss still farther the relation of
instinctive knowledge to that learned from expe-
rience, in regard to operations in nature.

234 Instinct.

Belief in the connection of cause and effect is,
as we have said, intuitive ; and we can never tell
with certainty, that an animal has such a notion.
It is the general opinion that he has not. But
he comes, at once, into a world that makes an im-
pression upon his senses, and he acts instinctively
as though he believed that there is something
without him which causes the sensations. He be-
lieves instinctively in an external world, if we can
judge any thing by his acts. But all that we are
sure of is that his acts are correlated to the world.

Undoubtedly, it is true of man, that he has an
instinctive belief in the uniformity of nature's laws.
But the belief that any particular event, the ris-
ing of the sun, for instance, will continue to occur,
as it has in nature, is an entirely different thing.
Probably, in man, such belief always comes from
experience. It may be given to an animal without
experience, when it is needful for him, or rather,
for the species. Men plant in spring, expecting a
harvest in autumn. The harvest may fail, and a
particular experience is needed in each new place,
and with each new kind of seed, to learn the best
time of planting, and the best methods of culture,
to secure a crop. Probably the use of seed, by
men, for planting, is entirely the result of observa-
tion. Give any man a new seed, and he may be
unable to secure its germination even ; or, if it ger-
minates, it may fail to produce fruit, because he
does not understand its nature. It is plain that
man has no instinctive knowledge to guide him in
securing a crop. In the only case known in which

Uniformity of Nature. 235

animals, the ^^ Agricultural Ants''' "^ of Texas, raise,
as well as harvest, a crop, the entire process is so
complex, and yet uniform in all places, that it
seems wholly the work of Instinct, as does also the
care of other species of Ants for their herds of Apli-
ides.-\ The expectation that there will be rain or
snow in their season, probably every one will believe
to be founded on observation and experience.
More persons would differ as to our belief in the
uniform order of the seasons, and the stated return
of day and night. But little thought will convince
us that these are as truly contingent, as is the com-
ing of rain and snow. The cycles are so great,
that we do not note the irregularity of their return ;
but we see agencies at work that might change
them all, and probably are changing them all. Our
intuitive belief in the relation of cause and effect,
remains ; but we learn by experience alone, the
results which the causes now acting in nature pro-
duce. What has been always uniform in our ex-
perience, we expect will continue so.

Now it is necessary for some animals, that they
should act, not only as though they possessed this
generic belief in causation, but that they should also
act in reference to contingent events, of which they
have had no experience. This is also a very impor-
tant point in the argument. The Squirrel, that has
never seen a winter, lays up food in autumn when,
from its abundance everywhere, it would seem that

* "Homes Without Hands," (Wood), pp. 370-373.
f Kirby and Spence, 7tli. Ed., pp. 335, 336.

2;^6 Instmct.

lie had least need of doing it. Something Hke this
is seen in all the provisions the animal makes for
the change of seasons, and in the provisions which
Nature makes for him. Physiological action pre-
pares his body with a warm coat, as winter ap-
proaches. And if his food must fail in winter, and
it is of such a kind that he cannot store it up, then
Nature brings upon him a sleep, which saves food,
and lasts till her table is spread for him again, in
spring time.

The physical systems of animals and their in-
stincts then, do have relation to the periodicity of
these common, contingent events in the order of
nature. They are adjusted to the length of the
year, and even to the angle of the ecliptic with the
equator. Such a relation is necessary for the very
existence of many animals.

There is no proof that Nature makes any special
provision in man for the change of seasons. But
she has given to his system a wonderful power of
self-adjustment, in meeting changes of climate at
all times, with great rapidity. Man was made to
have continuous summer or winter, as he might
choose, or part of each ; and to learn, by experience,
the kind and amount of clothing fitted for him.
Mr. Wallace speaks of it as a strong argument
against the theory that man originated from the
lower animals, by natural selection, that no hair
is ever found upon his back, where the longest and
most vigorous hair is found upon the lower animals.'^

* " Natural Selection," p. 345.

Purposes of Instincts. 237

It is also true, that there is no more hair upon
northern than upon southern races. As Nature
makes no provision, in the system of man, for change
of seasons, but leaves him entirely to experience as
a guide, so, probably, she denies to him any pro-
phetic instinct, such as she gives to certain animals,
by which they provide for the winter, that they
have never seen the like of.

We have now come to a point in the discussion,
where we shall best be able to trace the instinctive
principles in the whole nature of man, by enumer-
ating the purposes for which these principles are
needed by him. They will, on examination, we
think, be found to be the necessary conditions : —

1. For life — that is, the continuance of the in-
dividual and the species.

2. For progress, of the individual and race — that
is, as the basis or condition of experience.

3. For benevolence — including under this term
all disinterested labor for individuals and for society,
as a whole, from natural or moral impulses.

4. For worship — including all specific acts, that
acknowledge God and duties towards Him, or rela-
tions to Him, distinct from all other relations.

The instinctive principles, which secure these
purposes, may be simply conditions, or occasions
of specific actions ; or they may be self-directive
and self-controlling in the performance of specific
acts, as manifested in some animals ; or they may
be mainly impulsive and directive, but needing con-
trol and Hmitation in their action, by some higher
principle, that uses them as servants. And some

238 Instinct.

of them may serve more than one of these pur-
poses.

The instincts of the animal, so far as they seem to
relate to his own welfare, appear to be confined main-
ly, if not entirely, to the first class, — those that pre-
serve life, — securing to him, of course, so much enjoy-
ment as comes by the normal activity of his powers
which never secure progress through the agency ot
their possessor alone. There the animal stops ; but
these instincts of the first class, in man, are but the
stepping-stone to a higher nature, to the very sum-
mit of which, like principles of action, seem to be
needed, and to exist. Certain it is, that man has
the power to throw down over these instincts,
which he has in common with the brutes, so much
of his higher nature, that they become dignified,
lovely, and the source of happiness, reacting upon,
and aiding all that is above them ; or he may aban-
don these instincts to their own uncontrolled ac-
tion, so that they shall work out a degradation im-
possible among the brutes.

We have spoken of the appetites as the first
condition, of the exercise of those instincts, which
tend to preserve life. There may be certain reflex-
ive acts which have been mistaken for instinctive,
but probably all will agree that a truly instinctive
act involves volition in some stage of its history.
Every voluntary act that aims at some relation with
the external world, would seem to involve some
notion of the existence of such a world. We re-
gard this notion of the existence of an external
world as given, as the instincts are, — the essential

Primary Beliefs, 239

outfit of every man and of every animal in which
there is truly voluntary action, seeking relations to
the world. Not that we suppose that animals or
infants ever enunciate this truth of the existence
of an external world to themselves, or have any
theories or ideas respecting it, except that the
belief is always present, as an element in the im-
pulse to every voluntary act seeking an end in the
world without the actor. Belief in the uniformity
of Nature's laws, that is, that gravitation, or cohe-
sion, or a specific kind of matter, under the same
conditions, will always produce the same results, wc
are inclined, also, to regard as an original gift.

It may be found that the idea of causality is all
that is constant, and that the rest of this belief is
partly instinctive and partly inductive, the propor-
tion that is instinctive varying according to the im-
perative demands of the animal, as we have al-
ready seen is the case, in reference to those events
in Nature that are contingent, depending upon the
condition of the causes necessary to produce them.
At least we are compelled to treat all men, and all
animals that we desire to make useful to us, as
though they had either instinctively, or as an in-
duction, a belief both in the existence of an exter-
nal world and also in the principle of causality, in
all the operations of nature. So much for the con-
ditions of all voluntary action from the lowest to
the highest. Experience, as a guide, rests upon
them and would be useless without them.

But such conditions of action are not impulses
to action ; and these we want. The Appetites we

240 Instinct.

have, but they are not ahvays broad enough for all
the wants of the being, and therefore instinctive
impulses are found, which have no direct connec-
tion with the Appetites, though they may work in
the same direction with them, or supplement their
work. And among these instinctive impulses, we
reckon the Desires, so called. It has been well said
by President HOPKINS that the desire of happiness
is generic. It is interwoven with all other desires.
It is, in this respect, like the desire of life, which in-
volves the fear of death — though probably the de-
sire of happiness, in mxan, is broader than the desire
of life, even. The desire of life may be lost, but
the desire for happiness cannot be. Perhaps how-
ever, that a strict analysis would show that the de-
sire of life is only lost, so far as it is judged to be a
condition of suffering, rather than of enjoyment.
And that the prospect of happiness, through life?
must be lost, before life can be given up, without
some higher purpose than the suicide has. The
desire of life and the desire of happiness are the
two great under-lying instincts into which all others
seem to strike ; or rather, all other instincts are the
special methods of securing the demands of these,
to the individual or the species. The relations to
life and happiness, of the things instinctively aimed
at by any being, are by no means always perceived
by that being. This we have illustrated by many
examples during this discussion, showing it to be
an essential characteristic of an instinct, that it
shall act promptly, and as though directed by In-
telligence, where the good of the being absolutely

Demands of Civilization. 241

demands it, though the being, in which it acts, even
man himself, may be as ignorant of any reason for
its acting, as he is of any reason for sleep or hunger,
except that they come in consequence of a certain
constitution that he has, he knows not how.

Of the instincts which belong to the first class,
that have the Appetites as their basis, which are
common to animals and men, we have already
treated very fully, so far as they act by themselves.

We propose here only to call attention to the.
peculiar action of these instincts in the human spe-
cies, as needing direction and limitation, from some
principle distinct from themselves, and higher.
The appetite for food is given to man, as to all
other animals ; but the choice of food, its produc-
tion, preservation and preparation, are, with man,
things to be learned by observation and experiment.
Here he stands upon entirely different ground from
any of the lower animals. Great advances have
been made within a century, in our ability to prop-
erly administer to the demands of the appetite for
food. Millions of acres of our domain, have been
devoted to these experiments, and we have but just
begun to learn what is best for men to eat, to meet
the demands that are made upon them, and to
ward off the diseases to which they are exposed.
While man lives like an animal, this is a simple
matter ; but under a high civilization, it is complex
and demands for its treatment, powers entirely dif-
ferent from any thing that we can call instinctive.
And civilization is the true state of man, so that
II

242 Instinct.

the appetite for food, which, in the animal, will
take care of itself, — in man, becomes the occasion
of study, of experiment, and of discussion. It not
only aids in building up the body, but it calls upon
the mind for counsel, as to how it may best perform
its work.

In all that relates to the sexes, we recognize
strong impulses from Appetite and Instinct, but in
every direction see the need of control and restraint
from some power entirely distinct from the appe-
tite, or the instincts connected with it.

To say nothing of the mistakes of marriage,
where even Reason and Pride are not strong enough
to prevent wretchedness, we often see the instinct-
ive love of parents ruining their children, in its
blind efforts to secure their good. Conjugal, pa-
rental, and filial affections are as purely instinctive
in men as in the brutes, and belong primarily to the
animal nature — have their first impulses from that.
But in man, they may be the source of suffering and
degradation, defeating the end for which they were
given, or they may extend much farther than it is
possible for them to, among animals, and be lifted
up into a sphere of beauty and permanence, un-
known to animal life ; mingling with all the in-
stincts and powers of that higher nature, by which
they must be controlled, if at all.

Husbands and wives, parents and children !
We have but to look abroad in the world to see
that the relations which these words suggest, pro-
duce the greatest blessings and the greatest suffer-
ings which this world knows, — and that all the suf-

Need of Law, 243

fering, which we most deplore, comes from ignorance
and want of control of those appetites, passions,
and impulses which in animals are self-directive,
but in man must be put under restraint and guid-
ance from something entirely beyond their own
sphere.

We hear much about civil laws as regulating
these matters. And here we see the need of it ;
because these instincts are not self-regulative in
man. They are to be governed by Reason and Con-
science ; and because these are too weak in many
individuals, there must be law, which is the expres-
sion of the public reason and conscience, called into
requisition to secure the best interests of all. And
the only hope for proper laws, is in an enlightened
conscience in the majority.

But to untangle this snarl of the past genera-
tions, will require much time and patience ; and we
fear it will not be made straight till much more
mischief has been done, and men learn from a long,
sad experience, what the true bounds of these in-
stinctive principles in man are, and have wisdom
and moral strength to give these principles that
guidance and limitation, which they have no power
to give themselves.

Distinct from the instincts, that secure the fam-
ily relation, we have also considered the desire for
society, which may be called an instinct. It is to
some extent ultimate in its action, as securing en-
joyment to men and animals, in virtue of their very
constitution. But in man, this desire secures the
conditions for the operation of those instincts of the

244 Instinct.

second class, by which the progress of the race is
mainly secured. Society is, certainly, a necessary
condition for the exercise of some of the instincts
of this class, as will be readily seen, when they are
mentioned.

Prominent among the desires which belong to
this second class, that secure progress, are the de-
sire of knowledge, the desire of property, of power
and of esteem. The desire of knowledge, of prop-
erty, and of power, in a certain degree, may be ne-
cessary for securing life, or the best conditions of liv-
ing. But in man, the impulse in each of these de-
sires, certainly, goes beyond what the preservation
of life demands ; and plainly points to progress of
the individual and the race, as its final cause. That
desire of knowledge w^hich leads to study and in-
vestigation for its own sake, prepares the way by
years and ages of toil, observation and experiment,
for those grand discoveries in science and practical
applications of science, that now make the globe
and all its forces, the servant of man. The steam-
boats, telegraphs, and other marvels of our age,
come to us as the fruit of study, that had no prom-
ise of reward when the work was done. Love of
knowledge led men in the past, and is still leading
them, where there is no prospect of gain. But on
the other hand, the desire of property obeyed in
other individuals, has given that accumulation of
capital which makes these grand enterprises of our
day possible. Love of esteem in man, seems main-
ly for the benefit of society in securing from each

Faith, 245

one, those acts towards society and each member
of it, which shall be best for both. These desires
differ greatly in their strength, as a whole, or in
their comparative strength, even in members of the
same family. They may be strengthened by exer-
cise, but are never weakened by it. One of them
may be brought to the aid of the other, or be made
subservient to it, as when knowledge is sought for
the sake of the power it will give ; or knowledge,
property, and power are all sought for the sake of
the esteem they will secure. Either of these in-
stincts may become the master, and all the others
ready servants ; but the one that is master has no
power of rightly controlling or limiting its own ac-
tion even. The controlling and limiting power is
still beyond.

Very different in its action from the Desires, but
standing high, as an instinctive principle of progress,
is Faith, or confidence in persons. It may be
shaken, or directed in its action by experience, but
it does not come from experience. So strong is it,
that no amount of suffering from lying and deceit,
will destroy a man's trust in the words of all his fel-
low-men. It is natural for him to believe them,
and to trust them, as soon as the time comes when
it is necessary that he should trust them. In child-
hood the trust is mainly centred on the parent, or
the one in the parent's place, as it is best for the
welfare of the child it should be.

Although we may say, in our haste, that all men
are liars, we naturally trust men, till we have been
often deceived; and then we distrust them only

246 Instinct.

when we think they have some motive for deceiv-
ing us.

We find also another principle of action that
secures progress, though the impulse to the action,
in some cases at least, seems to be Benevolence, —
the object of which is to secure happiness. We re-
fer to the disposition of men to do what they can
for the generations that are to come after them,
without any reference to direct relationship. We
are disposed to think the impulse is an instinctive
one, which becomes strengthened and directed by
specific, benevolent, social instincts. All such ac-
tion is so opposed to selfishness that we must look
to see it constantly repressed, and warped from its
free exercise. Its existence, as a distinct principle,
may be doubted ; for the instinct, if it be one, is
complex in its action, and in many cases, may be so
intertwined with, or obscured by, the action of
other instincts, as to be lost sight of.

Man desires to be remembered ; and it may be
said this desire leads him to do what shall be bene-
ficial to the coming generations. Undoubtedly
this is so, but in addition to this mode of gratify-
ing the love of esteem, there is, probably, an in-
stinct that leads him to do work for those whom he
has never seen, and who will never hear of his
name. " The old man plants trees, the fruit of
which he never expects to pluck." And he does
this without any necessary relation to family connec-
tions, though these may come in with their influ-
ences, to strengthen and direct this impulse.

Self-Regulation, 247

We recognize thfs principle in our building, and
public enterprises, and in our laws, which secure
property for generations, and make permanent cor-
porations.

This instinct might be reckoned as belonging to
the third class, which are benevolent in their action,
as we have already intimated, as well as to the sec-
ond ; for the division we have made cannot be
sharply defined, as many of the desires and prin-
ciples of action have several relations ; and any
one of them can be made the servant of another,
as has been shown. But among the instinctive
principles, which are strictly benevolent, are pity
and mercy.

In our investigations thus far, we have found, in
animals, all that they need for working out the
best results, which it seems possible for such beings
to reach. They have impulse, guidance, and limita-
tion oi action secured in the very nature of their ap-
petites and instincts. Each one of these 's so far
self-regulative, as to make it best for the individ-
ual or the species, that it shall have activity un-
controlled by any power beyond its own sphere.
The best condition which we can conceive of for
an animal, when free from the disturbing influences
of domestication, is to let him have an abundance
of every thing needful to him, and then let him
have entire liberty to follow every impulse.

Not so with man. We have found in him
strong impulses, — impulses and instinctive prin-

248 Instmct.

ciples of action of as wide a range as any animal
has, — and more still remain to be considered. We
find, as yet, nothing to direct and limit these
impulses, to secure the highest good of man. We
can hardly think of a worse condition for man, than
to supply him with every thing needful for him,
and then for him to give himself up, as animals
may, to every impulse. The voice of the whole
thinking world is, that there must be in man a
power of self-control, — something outside of these
activities, of which we have been speaking, — some-
thing that experiments w^ith them, observes their
action and determines their proper sphere of ac-
tion, allowing one to act, and keeping another in
abeyance, in spite of its clamors ; in fact, ruling
them, and making them its servants. This higher
power seeks for, and determines the Law of Lim-
itation, so fully explained by President HOPKINS.
This law is, that every power in man miLst be used so
far, and only so far, as it is a condition of activity
for the next higher power. This limit of action for
each power, the man must himself determine. And
when that has once been determined, the high, rid-
ing pozver within him, confines each of these ser-
vants to its own place, and exacts of it the la-
bor required for the good of the whole. — It may
learn much from these servants skilled in their own
departments of labor, but it never should lose con-
trol of them. In that man, where this ruler is
well informed, and uses the power which rightful-
ly belongs to him, there is the order, harmony,
happiness and progress of a well-ordered king-

The Higher Nature, 249

dom. But where the ruler is misled by ignorance,
or fails through weakness or negligence, to control
his subordinates, there is riot, waste, rebellion and
ruin.

We speak of this higher nature, which rules in
man as one, and so it is one, as something added to
the animal nature ; but it involves distinct methods
of activity, which our present purpose does not re-
quire us to fully analyze. We shall only speak of
this higher nature in man as ruling the lower ac-
tivities, and trace instinctive impulses into it, and
beyond it, into the strictly religious nature ; in
both of which, these principles appear abundantly,
thus giving a whole field of instinctive activities
in man, which either never exist in the lower ani-
mals ; or, if they exist in them, they are beyond
our power of discovery.

The instincts of the higher and lower nature
of man are in constant conflict, because the lower
are not limited, but are constantly pushing beyond
their proper bounds, as they never do in animals.
If the higher gain the day, man is worthy of the
place he was made to fill, as the image of God and
ruler of the globe, — having dominion over all its
creatures, aj^d over his own animal nature. But if
the animal instincts take the control, there is no
limit to his possible degradation.

The animal powers of man must be governed,
then, because they are not self-regulative. They
must be limited, and directed in their action, by
some power or set of powers above them. This
power the man has ; or more strictly, he has a com-

250 Instinct.

binatlon of powers, which makes him a ruler of him-
self, through the sovereign act of a free personality.
The very fact that his lower propensities, — the
Appetites and histincts, — are not self-regulative as
in animals, but are capable of terrific power, even
destructive power, when left to themselves, shows
them to be admirably adapted for service. No
matter how powerful any agency is, if it be directed
and controlled. The more powerful it is the bet-
ter. Steam, and gunpowder, and gravitation are
powerful. How destructive they are in their un-
controlled action ! How they crush and rend and
kill ! But the steam, when controlled, bridges the
ocean, brings distant cities together, and, in the
workshop, does the labor of millions of men. Gun-
powder levels the mountains, and opens the riches
of the mines. Gravitation crowds the waters
through the wheel, and gives us a power that needs
no fire nor fuel for its continued strength. What
these powerful agencies are as servants, when con-
trolled and directed by bands of iron, the animal
instincts are when under control of that power in
man, appointed to give them law. What, now, are
the powers which this ruling principle in man must
have, or rather, that the man must have, in order
to rule himself? We will not attempt an enumer-
ation of them singly, for that would carry us on
to the ground of the Mental and Moral Philoso-
pher, where contests are always raging in regard to
definitions and the classification of the powers. We
shall speak of these powers, singly or in groups, ac-
cording to their office in this governing work.

Power of Comprehension* 25 1

And first of all, as a means of rightly performing
this work, there must be Comprehension. The man
must, by some power or set of powers, be as capable
of understanding all his own powers, from the low-
est to the highest, in their capabilities, and uses, as
he is of comprehending any thing in the world with-
out him, upon which he can experiment to advan-
tage.

This comprehending power must, also, be able
to give to the man an understanding of his relations
to the world, — to make him a progressive being,
this power must furnish the means of constantly
adding to his knowledge — of widening its own
sphere, and improving its own action.

The full comprehension of all the powers, activ-
ities and impulses, and of the relations of the man
possessing these to the world, is the highest intel-
lectual act possible, so far as the well-being of the
man himself. In this world, is concerned. It is a
thing so seldom done, that It is no wonder that,
*' Know Thyself," should, for so many ages, have
been considered one of the wisest of all sayings ;
and that the practice of the precept, should be con-
sidered wisdom itself. This precept has, perhaps,
never been perfectly obeyed, either in the knowing
of one's self or in the action, which seems to be
necessarily implied, as the result of knowing. And
as society becomes more complex in its organiza-
tion, and the relations of every man become more
widely extended, this knowledge of self as related
to the world, becomes more difficult. Perhaps the
difficulty of the problem increases as fast as the

252 Instinct,

means are provided to aid in its solution. It can
only be approximately solved, at mature age, and af-
ter careful education, for its solution requires trained
powers and knowledge acquired by the experience
and observation of ourselves and others. On this
account, it is a natural thing for man to remain
under parental control, till this condition of acting
is reached. Nothing but a felt necessity for this,
would justify the long minorit}^ of young men.
They must be controlled by others, and be fur-
nished with knowledge by experience, and observa-
tion and instruction, because they have neither suf-
ficient knowledge nor self-control, instinctively, as
animals have, to enable them to reach the best re-
sults, when left to follow every natural impulse.

This power of comprehension is generally exer-
cised in a very imperfect manner, in the act of
establishing those relations with the world, which
naturally determine the direction of a man's activ-
ities for life. Even under the best conditions of
society, the impulses are often followed bHndly for
awhile ; and then comprehension comes in, and find-
ing the work well begun, completes it, — or, finding
it wrongly commenced, abandons it and begins
anew ; or makes the best of a bad case, too far gone
to be rectified. In other cases, it never does its
appropriate work ; and the man floats through the
world like a stick of drift-timber. In other cases
still, where there is clear comprehension of rela-
tions and powers, and of desirable results, there
seems to be too little ability to restrain or con-
trol the lower powers, and make them servants ;

Prudence. 253

and the man is driven in this direction or in that
according to the subordinate impulse that has usurp-
ed supreme power. The man is made a curse to
the world, and a ruin, by being under the control
of some appetite or instinct, which he knows he
ought to control, or which the common judgment
of the world declares he ought. We begin at this
point to see what a wide difference there is be-
tween man, — when we consider his whole nature, —
and the highest even, of the lower animals. For
the perfection of animals, no such power of com-
prehension, as we have described, is needed. Their
relations to the world are simple, and are fixed in
the best manner by impulse. The relations of man,
on the other hand, are of the most complex nature,
so that it may be said, that each man has a mission,
something to do in the world different from what
every other one has to do.

New spheres of activity open before him, and as
he enters each, there has often to be an entire new
use of some lower activity, or an entire new adjust-
ment of all the lower activities, — some being re-
pressed which were formerly stimulated, and others
brought intO/ activity that were formerly kept in
abeyance.

Now we can conceive of a being having all the
lower activities, and the comprehension, that be-
longs to man, simply as a rational being, and these
powers alone, with will. Such a being, with the
capacity of enjoyment and suffering, through the
sensibility connected with all these lower activities,
would become, in his highest estate, a prudent be-

254 histinct.

ing. Every act would be from his judgment of
expediency in promoting pleasure or avoiding suf-
fering. Everything would be reduced to the level
of that action, by which a man cuts his wood in
season to have it«dry in winter, or puts his kindling
in better shape and provides it in larger quantities,
as the clouds and winds betoken increased cold.
If he acted for children or friends, it would be from
a natural impulse alone, as animals act in caring
for their kind. With such beings the word ex-
pedient would be the highest in enforcing action ;
but, OUGHT, with the signification it now has, would
be unknown.

Now, in man, we find another wonderful im-
pulse to action making a part of his higher nature,
and by which all the lower instincts and powers
maybe intensified in action, or be kept in abeyance.
This is Obligation^ or the Sense of Obligation. It is
not only ultimate, like the impulses of the lower
nature, but it is the highest impulse — ultimate in
our analysis of man, as a moral being. As it be-
longs to man to comprehend the action of all his
lower powers, and the use and proper limit of each
one of them, this higher impulse grapples on to
everyone of them to restrain or quicken them. If,
now, the knowledge of man were perfect, this Sense
of Obligation would be a sure guide, and every act
in accordance with its impulse would be the best
possible. If the will were strong enough to secure
every act that Obligation demands, man would
be a perfect being. Mistake in action would be im-
possible. Perfect comprehension of the best rela-

Law of Mans Being, 255,

tions, a sense of obligation to act in accordance with
these relations, and strength of will to carry out the
demands of Obligation, would be as perfect an outfit
for man as we find in the animals, in their self-limit-
ing and self-directing instincts. This outfit would be
perfect in its action, but occupying a field where un-
limited progress would not only be possible, but
the natural result. It is the belief of many that
man was created in this state. However that may
be, he is in no such condition now. He makes sad
mistakes, when he does the best he knows ; and he
w^eakly, or perversely, gives up to impulses which
he knows ought to be restrained. If we were to
judge by the results of human life alone, we should
conclude that there is no law of man's being. For
nothing can be greater than the differences of char-
acter between men of the same city and, oftentimes,
of the same family. Searching for a law among so
many discordant elements, to one compelled to
judge of man's nature only from these results which
he daily sees, would seem, at first, to be a hopeless
task. Is man then without a law of his being which
may guide him in his higher life ? While animals
have a law within them, which is like gravitation
to the planets that guides them forever in their or-
bits, has man no impulse which will tend to direct
his course? Are the best specimens of humanity,
after all, only accidents? We think not. And
we think that law and guide of action within man
will be found in THE SENSE OF OBLIGATION, when
considered in all its demands, and in relation to all
the other provisions made for him.

LECTURE XI.

THE MORAL INSTINCTS — OBLIGATION.

Law of Being defined. — Relatione/ Men and animals to this law. —
Co'nditions under which Obligation arises. — Man's Freedom. — Self-
denial. — Effects of Ignorance. — Relation of Obligation to the ytidg-
ment. — Double action of Obligation. — Doing right because it ts
Right. — Obligation to do justly. — Four Manifestations of Obliga-
tion.— Its action compared with the Instincts. — Its relation to Pro-
gress,— Moral Conflicts. — Choice. — Free Personality. — Accountabil-
ity.— Remorse. — Man compared with an atti?nal. — Moral powers
always found in him. — The perfection and sphere of the Animal. —
The sphere of Man's Action.

We have traced the instinctive principles, in man's
animal nature, to find their method of action, and
the means by which they are controlled. We have
found these principles in him, capable of terrific
power, and fitted by this power for efficient service,
if they can be rightly directed. To find a control-
ling power for them, we are compelled to pass be-
yond the animal instincts themselves, to a higher
nature. As the agency to enable man himself to
guide and limit the action of his animal instincts,
he needs a Comprehending power., to show him the
relation of all his acts to results, and the relation
of all subordinate results, to his highest good. He
v\.^Qdi'=>\.\v^ power of Choice, — when different ends are
comprehended, — in addition to that executive vo-

Law of Being Defined, 257

lition, which he has, in common with the brutes, —
and, last of all, he needs the Sense of Obligation^ as
the highest possible impulse to action.

It was suggested, in the last lecture, that' we
should find in the sense of obligation, considering
all its demands and relations, the true law of human
action, as we find in the lower instincts, the law of
animal activity. And by the law of action, for any
being, we mean that within him, which guides, or
tends to guide him, to that end for zvhich he was made.
So men, as well as animals, have within them an
impulse urging them to seek the end for which they
were made, only men are left to learn what that
end is, from the study of the impulse, and to guide
themselves towards it, by the use of all their high-
er powers, — while the guidance to the animal comes
from his organic development, and is towards an end,
of which he knows nothing. We see, on every hand,
the sufficiency of the instincts, as a guide to ani-
mals ; while in man, these same instincts need con-
trol from some power beyond them. If we find
Obligation to be such a controlling power, either
alone or with the aid of other powers, we shall be
satisfied.

It is not with us a question, now, how animals
or man came by any of these powers. It is a ques-
tion of possession, and of the nature and value of
the possession.

Let us now try to find the facts in the case,
without being bound by any preconceived notion
or favorite definition.

In the first place, when two courses of action are

258 Instinct.

open before us, so that we can contemplate them
and their results, there may arise a sense of obhga-
tion, for us to enter upon one course rather than the
other.

This sense of obHgation may be entirely dis-
tinct from any notion of expediency or pleasure to
ourselves. It is undoubtedly true that the highest
expediency and pleasure will ultimately be found in
the line of obligation ; but a conviction of this, is not
necessary as a condition for the impulse of obliga-
tion. But it is also to be said that obligation al-
ways demands the good of the higher nature, when
that is discerned, and the good of the higher nature
never conflicts with the good of any other being.

The impulses of the animal nature impel us
where present pleasure or animal enjoyment can be
secured, — oftentimes against the good of others, —
but obligation may demand that every good of our
lower nature, even life itself, be sacrificed for the
good of our higher. That is, the sense of obliga-
tion, so far as it acts from our contemplation of
good, always demands that the animal in us be the
servant of the human.

This sense of obligation is ever urging man on
to discover the true end of his being and to attain
it. But he has the power of going against this im-
pulse, and of yielding himself to any one of the
lower impulses of his nature, or we should not have
true freedom ; and he often goes against it, through
ignorance or perverseness, in various ways, or we
should have as uniform results in human life as
among animals. Animal life reaches its end by a

Obligation. 259

self-adjusting machinery so powerful as to control
the animal. It is left to man alone to discover what
the end of his being is, and then to act in conform-
ity with the law that guides him towards that end,
or against that law.

Man is under obligation to promote the great-
est good of all beings, himself included. To yield
obedience to this demand of obligation is one of the
great acts of life, and one demanding what is called
great self-denial ; for it involves a constant struggle
with all the lower propensities of our nature. Wise
self-denial — all that is ever demanded and all that
it is right for a man to make — is the control of any
appetite or impulse when it conflicts with a higher
good. This, even, may be like cutting off a right
hand or plucking out a right eye.

But another great difficulty arises here, which
follows every man through life, — the want of knowl-
edge, which shall enable him to act in conformity
to that high law of his being, which he knows to be
good, and to which he may desire to conform.

The same thing is illustrated in the case of his
body. He is compelled to suffer many things, —
pain and sorrow and early death, — because, per-
chance, he ignorantly builds his house where poi-
sons exhale from the earth. He may know that
there is a law of health, but in attempting to follow
it, his ignorance leads him into all sorts of pitfalls.

Has man then no guide towards the end of his
being, before that end is comprehended as one se-
curing the greatest good ? We believe that the
sense of obligation not only gives impulse to action,

26o Instinct.

but that its tendency is to secure right action, even
amidst the most disastrous mistakes of ignorance.
This we think will appear before we close the dis-
cussion. And we now proceed to consider this
sense of obligation still farther, in its subordinate
operations to secure conformity to what would be
its first great command, if man had wisdom enough
to discover his true end from the beginning.

In the first place, the sense of obligation always
arises to do a specific act, when that act is judged by
us, to promote any end, the seeking of which obliga-
tion commands. It is no proof that the act will aid
in securing the end, because the sense of obligation
arises to perform it. If it were, man would need no
aid from knowledge to guide his conduct in seek-
ing any end that he knows to be good, — he would
guide himself perfectly by the sense of obligation
alone. All mistakes in seeking such an end would
be impossible ; and growth in knowledge would be
useless as an aid in guiding moral action. There
are those who make this fatal blunder in Hfe. They
satisfy " conscience^' and through ignorance of re-
lations commit hideous wrong, and call it God's ser-
vice. Men may feel under obligation to do most
wicked things, when they are ignorant, because the
sense of obligation was never given to take the
place of knowledge, or to be any excuse for igno-
rance.

The sense of obligation, as securing specific acts,
has a certain fixed relation, then, to the comprehend-
ing power, or the judgments formed through the
agency of that power. Let the judgment decide

Obligation. 261

%:>

that a specific act will promote the great end,
which it is the law of man's being to seek, and the
sense of obligation to perform that act arises at
once. The action of obligation is, in this sense, an-
alogous to the action of the lower instinctive im-
pulses. We have shown that they have a certain
relation to the impression made upon the senses.
Make a certain impression upon the senses of an
animal, and the instinctive act follows, though its
results may be the worst possible for the being.
Animal Instinct was made to depend upon the
senses for its light, or condition of acting, where it
has any relation to the senses at all. In like man-
ner, when the relation of a certain act, to the great
end of our being, is judged to be direct, by the com-
prehending power of man, the sense of obligation to
perform that act, arises at once, though the per-
formance of it may, through ignorance of relations,
involve the worst possible consequences. From
this, it is plain that the impulse of obligation has
the same relation to the comprehending power of
man, that ordinary instinctive impulse has to sim-
ple sense-perception in animals.

Obligation then, we may regard as the great
moral, instinctive impulse, that drives us to act in
securing the greatest moral good at which man can
aim, as the lower instinctive impulses drive animals
and men to act to secure physical life, which to them,
as mere animals, is the greatest good, as it is the
condition of all good to them.

Both animal Instinct and the Sense of Obliga-
tion depend for their light, ,pr condition of action,

262 Instinct,

upon other powers. If it is instinct that preserves
an animal, it is also true that it is through his in-
stincts that we most easily destroy him. Deceive
his senses, and he will destroy himself, by his own
instinctive act. That which was made to preserve
him, becomes the surest means of his destruction.

So the worst acts the world has ever witnessed,
have been performed under the stimulus of Obliga-
tion, arising from mistaken views of relations. The
persecutions, the burnings and stonings, — the mar-
tyrdoms in all ages, — are the horrid work of this
highest instinct, guided by ignorance. It is hke the
power that drives the engine safely on its way, when
the road is in perfect order, but which brings ruin
and death, when the rails are broken or misplaced.
Obligation demands results in accordance with
the great end of man's being, which it constantly en-
forces, and ever keeps potentially present as the
basis of every act ; as the love of life is present as
the basis of every lower instinctive act. But it has, of
itself, no power to comprehend the relations which
will secure the best results. For this light, or con-
dition of right action, it must depend upon the com-
prehending power, whether that be INTELLECT,
REASON or MORAL REASON, or all of these combined,
But this action of Obligation alone would plain-
ly be defective as an aid in reaching the great end
which it commands us to seek. It can go with safe-
ty, only as the comprehending power furnishes the
conditions, and this furnishes the conditions by in-
vestigating all agencies, and the tendencies of all
courses of action ; that is, the great work of the

Double Work of Obligation. 263

comprehending power, is to gather knowledge from
every source open to it, to enable it to furnish the
right conditions, so that every act, which Obligation
demands shall be towards the great end which it
constantly impels us to seek. If knowledge were
perfect, so that the exact relation of every act to the
great end of life, were fully understood, the machin-
ery would be perfect, as we have said. But there
is great ignorance of the relation of acts to results,
and of results to the chief end of life. If the whole
work of obligation, as a means to this end, were
simply to impel to acts in view of perceived rela-
tions, it is evident that a man might remain in ig-
norance, and still obey the voice of Obligation,
while constantly working against the supreme end
which she commands him to seek. Obligation
might be constantly commanding him to do specific
acts, contrary to her original and generic command,
as though a father who had commanded his son to
raise wheat, should then command him to sow the
seed on ground unfit for that kind of grain, or to
sow in midsummer, or to parch the seed before
sowing.

" Plainly, if man were left with a constitution like
this, the worst consequences would follow practical-
ly, and 'Reason would never justify the Creator in
giving such a constitution to any being.

But now we find Obligation doing another work,
which has a tendency to correct this defect, so that
its work can be justified by Reason. While it acts,
in view of relations discovered by the comprehend-
ing power, and of results which that power declares

264 Instirict.

to be in the direction of the great end first com-
manded, it also demands of the comprehending
power that it do its work in the most faithful man-
ner. While Obligation must have light from the
comprehending power, it does not wait for that
light to come or not, as some lower impulse may
determine, but with royal voice, it demands more
light every instant of time, — it demands all the light
the comprehending power can give, — it will be sat-
isfied with nothing less, and it increases its demands,
as the capacity of the comprehending power in-
creases, when used in the best manner possible.
Can any thing be more beautiful than this double
action of obligation in the system of means ? It
does not make man a perfect being, as to knowl-
edge, but it is beautiful, as the means of constant
progress towards perfection. There is resting upon
man, evermore, the obligation to do right, and to
secure knowledge, that he may know what right is.
But are we done with Obligation yet? We
think not. In its action just referred to, we have
taken it for granted that the action was based upon
the decision of the comprehending power, — wheth-
er correct or not, — that the result aimed at was in
the direction of the great end of life, the end for
which man was made. But it must be plain to ev-
ery one, that we are not compelled either to make
broad generalizations, to understand the great end
of life, or the relation of every act to the greatest
good of all men, or the glory of God, before we
have the impulse of Obligation to act, this fact has
been clearly seen by moral philosophers, and it has

Doing Right because it is Right. 265

been fully considered by them. Obligation is found
enforcing certain subordinate acts, as those of jus-
tice, mercy and truth, even when the good secured
by them is not taken into account ; and we even
find it enforcing certain acts, as those of justice or
honesty, when the act cannot be justified to Reason,
at the time, as producing or tending to produce,
the greatest good. And, undoubtedly, on this ac-
count, has arisen much controversy about "■ doijig
right because it is rights It means, we suppose,
that the sense of Obligation impels us to perform
certain acts, that may seem at the time opposed to
the greatest good, if we mean by that the greatest
happiness of all. That it does this, we suppose all
will admit. A single illustration will show the prin-
ciple. If I have property in my hands belonging
to a rich man, who can never need it — who already
has more than is needed by him, so that my judg-
ment and the judgment of others, himself included,
is that he would be happier if he had less, and I am
in want so that the property would add to my hap-
piness, there is yet a sense of justice, which prevents
my appropriating the property. I feel under obli-
gation to restore that property to him, though I
need it for my comfort, and he does not need it for
his. That sense of obligation to return him his own,
does not yield to any prospect of advantage to me
in retaining it, until a new principle comes in — the
saving of life. I feel under obligation to save that,
at the expense of all property that I can use, wheth-
er my own or another's.

Now that sense of justice, and the accompany-
12

266 Instinct.

ing sense of obligation to do justly, are so essential
to the welfare of such a being as man is, and so es-
sential as a part of the means for carrying out that
social and moral system which the highest Reason
justifies, that they seem to be both given to man
to secure the action which is right in reference to
his highest end, even when there is no conception
of the good which they were intended to produce,
— as the instincts were given to the lower animals,
to secure certain actions essential to the life of the
individual or species, though the animal could have
no conception of the relation of the act to the ulti-
mate end to be attained.

It is this kind of impulse, from a sense of obliga-
tion to perform certain acts, the good of which we
do not see, and which the judgment, at the time,
even pronounces against as a means of producing
the greatest happiness, that probably gives rise to
the notion that we feel under obligation to "do
right because it is right." It is plain that we feel
wider obligation to do certain acts, for the doing of
which we can give no reason except that zve feel the
obligation. And we shall find all such acts to be of
so fundamental a character, that it would be ruinous
to any system of moral government, if not destruc-
tive to the race, to leave them to arouse the sense
of obligation only when the production of good is
asserted of them by the judgment. But the acts
that follow this sense of obligation thus originating,
are, in their relation to a moral system, and the
highest end of man as connected with that system,
like those instinctive acts in the lower animals,

Manifest at io7is of Obligation. 267

without which the species could not exist, and the
necessity of which it would be impossible for them
to learn from experience. It is difficult to see how
acts thus performed, are higher in their nature than
those that are preceded by Obligation founded on
comprehension of relations and rational choice.

We thus have these four possible manifestations
of obligation.

First, — As requiring man to choose the end for
which he was made, when that is comprehended.

Second, — As impelling him to every act that is
judged to be a means of securing that end.

Third, — Impelling to certain acts when no re-
lation is, at the time, perceived between them and
that ultimate end which, when comprehended, obli-
gation commands us to seek.

Fourth, — As laying its constant and ever in-
creasing demands upon the comprehending power to
furnish the best conditions for its action.

In all these respects its analogy to animal In-
stinct is very striking and beautiful, — Obligation
having for its aim the spiritual, or higher life of
man, as the instincts of animals relate to the phys-
ical life.

First, — The leading instinctive impulses of an-
imals, are those which demand the preservation of
life — the life of the individual and the continuance
of the species.

Second, — There is an instinctive impulse to do
all things that are seen to be connected with the
preservation of the individual or the species.

268 Instinct.

Third, — There is an impulse to do certain acts
which, as the animal performs them, have no per-
ceived relation to the end to be secured by them.

Fourth, — These instinctive impulses make con-
stant demands upon the senses to furnish the light,
or condition which they need for their best action.

It may aid us in making the comparisons, to
bring the different points together.

1. Obligation is given to secure the perfection
of the higher life of the individual and the race,
which is the highest good to both.

Instinct of animals, is to secure the preserva-
tion of physical life, which is the greatest good to
them, and the condition of all good.

2. Obligation impels to every act that se-
cures, or is judged to secure, the highest good of the
individual or race.

Instinct impels to every act that tends to se-
cure the life of the individual, or species.

3. Obligation impels to certain acts, though
they may not be seen by us at the time, to lead to
the greatest good.

Instinct impels to certain acts not seen by the
animal, at the time, to have any relation to the con-
tinuance of life.

4. Obligation depends upon the comprehend-
ing power for its light, or condition for right action.

Instinct depends upon the senses for the con-
ditions of its action.

This is another of those marked instances
where the method of action continues the same in

Obligation and Animal Instijict. 269

different planes of activity, even when the powers
acting in one plane are entirely distinct, in kind,
from those acting in the other.

Obligation and animal Instinct differ, especially
in this, that obligation depending for its conditions
on the comprehending power, is fitted for an unlim-
ited range of progress ; or the being possessing it
has progressive capacity constantly increasing in
the individual and gaining new light from genera-
tion to generation, and from the observation and
experience of thousands, at the same time, — while
animal Instinct, having its condition from the bodi-
ly senses, has but limited range in the individual,
and the individual can gain nothing from those
that have gone before him, and but little from
those associated with him. There is connected
with animal Instinct, no such system of progress
as is connected with Obligation, if there is any at
all. We have, thus far, spoken of the impulse of
Obligation, as though men follow it as certainly as
animals follow the impulses of their Instinct. But
this is far from being the case. If they did, there
would be a uniformity of moral action, and of re-
sults in the higher life of man, that would approach
the uniformity of animal life secured by Instinct.
The moral acts of men would differ only as their
knowledge differed. They might make mistakes
but intentional wrong-doing would be impossible.

Man has a truly animal nature with all the im-
pulses of animal appetites and instincts. He has,
also, this higher nature, in which the sense of Ob-
ligation is the great impulse. As this higher na-

270 Instinct.

ture in man is the natural ruler of the other in him,
there is often conflict between them. The lower
impulses draw in one direction, while Obligation
forbids the advance, or even demands an entirely
different line of action. If this were not so, man
would know nothing of those moral conflicts which
he now finds going on within him. An animal
may, by its nature, be impelled or compelled, to
fight another ; but as a moral being, a man's se-
verest battles are with himself, — between his high-
er and lower nature.

When the lower impulses are in one direction,
and the impulse of Obligation in another, the con-
dition of CHOICE is presented. And rational choice
is involved, in every act which follows the Sense of
Obligation, when that arises from a comprehension
of results. As the first demand of Obligation is
that the highest end of man should be chosen,
when that end is comprehended, so the first ration-
al, generi'c choice is the choice of that end, as the
goal towards which every power must press. That
act of choice declares that the lower nature shall,
henceforth, be the servant of the higher, — it shall
be well used, that it may be a good servant,
but the doom of its servitude is pronounced, once
for all. The man henceforth rules himself, — all the
animal nature within him is in subjection. Such a
choice is the act of Free Personality. It cannot
be illustrated, because there is nothing else like it.
It is the only point of true freedom. It is known
by consciousness alone. Every act of choice, both
generic and specific, may be in the line that Obli-

Ground of Acco^intability, 271

gation requires, or it may be opposed to it. Every
choice involving Obligation, or subsequent to the
impulse of Obligation, whether in accordance with
it or against it, is a decision between the higher
and lower nature, and determines which of them
shall, for the time, rule. It is in the power of this
intelligent choice, that we discover the highest free-
dom, the only true freedom, and it is here that we
see the ground of maiis accountability.

The impulse of Obligation being given to se-
cure the right, or most effective, use of all our pow-
ers, it may extend to every act towards ourselves,
our fellow-men and God. As it is ultimate, in the
sense of having no impulse to action higher than
itself, it has connected with it a fearful power, by
which it enforces its commands. It has nothing
above it to restrain its action ; and it never needs
restraint, but only light, that it may act in the right
direction. Then the best results come from the
full measure of its activity. In this respect, it is,
in its action, analogous to the instincts of animals,
which unconstrained work out the best results for
them, provided the senses furnish the proper con-
dition of action.

As there is nothing above Obligation to restrain
it, so there is nothing to aid it as an impulse. It
secures its own effective action only by its own
constitution, if at all. Remorse is the recoil of
this great impulse to action, in the higher nature
of man, when its action is thwarted by the power
of the lower instincts, which were not made to rule.

If any act is contrary to the demands of Obliga-

2'J2 Instinct,

tion, the punishment that follows is quick and in-
tense. If the act is as Obhgation demands, there is,
at the time, no recoil, although the act, through ig-
norance, may produce the worst results. There
may be sorrow for the unfortunate results, but no
remorse. But if the judgment, afterwards, decides
that the ignorance which caused the evil was un-
necessary, then remorse follows, as though the Sense
of Obligation had been violated at the time of per-
forming the act. For it is a part of the office of
Obligation, as we have shown, to secure from the
comprehending power all the light it can give.

There must be an apprehension of one's rela-
tion to an act, before Obligation can arise. Then
there must be consciousness of the Obligation.
Conscience then, or moral consciousness^ grasps by
an intuitive comprehension every relation of man
to every act involving choice between the im-
pulses of the higher and lower nature ; and in con-
nection with every such act contrary to the sense
of Obligation, there comes the punishment of re-
morse, which we conceive to be the dreadful recoil
of this highest moral impulse. Obligation, when it
is defied and thwarted in its legitimate work. It is
Conscience or moral consciousness, that makes the
torments of remorse possible ; and if one chooses
to regard obligation and remorse both as the work
of Conscience, we do not object, as we are seeking
for facts, and not for theoretical divisions or defini-
tions.

We are now prepared to state the difference be-
tween a man and an animal, as we have found them

Characteristics of Man. 273

in our analysis, up to this point. It consists in
three things.

In man we find —

First, — A comprehending power, that surveys
the universe, and all the capacities of its possessor,
in relation to that universe.

Second, — A sense of Obligation to do certain
acts, and to refrain from others, — this sense arising
spontaneously, in view of certain relations or re-
sults, and being distinct from those impulses of the
affections or desires, which may belong to an ani-
mal.

Third, — The power of choice, that gives, by
its generic action, individuality of aim for a life-
time ; and, in specific acts, determines whether the
higher or lower nature of man shall rule. These
three powers, with executive volition, make man
the ruler of the world and the shaper of his own
destiny, so far as choice and attempts are con-
cerned.

These three powers are all that we have yet
found distinctive in the higher nature of man. If
animals have either of them, we look in vain for the
proof of it in the whole range of the animal kingdom.
It is claimed by some that animals have these powers,
but the proof offered is not satisfactory. The beauti-
ful action of the natural instincts, as the social in-
stincts, and parental instincts, — is often triumphantly
referred to as proof of the moral nature of animals ;
but a full analysis of these instincts shows that they
occupy an entirely different sphere from the three
powers we have mentioned. In man these natural in-
12*

2/4 histmct.

stincts call the moral nature into action, it is true ;
but in the animals, they need neither guidance nor
restraint from obHgation or any thing above them,
as we have shown.

But an animal may have, and probably does
have, other emotions which are so intimately related
to the moral nature, as instruments, as to be readi-
ly mistaken for its essential powers, or character-
istics. An animal may have the emotion of pity,
and also an impulse that secures justice, so far as it is
essential to animal Hfe. They, certainly, instinctive-
ly act as though they had such emotions. It may
be that they have only a simple impulse, that secures
the proper action, while in man, there may precede
every one of his acts, comprehension, the sense of
of Obligation, and choice. If we say that Obliga-
tion can only follow comprehension of ends, then
we must allow that the simple impulses, which se-
cure justice, truth and the like, are in the same
line as Obligation would require, were there compre-
hension of the results, and so like it in every re-
spect as to be distinguished from it with great
difficulty.

If animals have a comprehension of moral rela-
tions, with the accompanying sense of Obligation,
and that consciousness of the comprehension of
relations and sense of obligation, which is Conscience
itself, or the product of Conscience, we see no
proof of it. We can account for all their actions,
perfectly, by referring to some lower principle of
instinctive impulse, which in them is self-directive.

Cause of Wretchedness, 275

All men give evidence that they have all these ele-
ments, which can be reckoned as belonging to con-
science. They may be in a wretched state of ac-
tivity, through ignorance ; or the scale of humanity
may be so low that animal impulses seem to have
the entire sway, and thus moral distinctions may
have made no impression on the language of de-
graded tribes. But this no more proves that these
moral powers are not present, than the absence of
algebraic language and methods, among ignorant
men, is proof that such men have no power to
generalize in numbers. Whenever search has been
made for the elements of conscience in man, they
have been found. They are at least potentially
present, as the blade is present in the grain of corn.
The work of missionaries in all parts of the world
abundantly proves this.

We see, then, that the moral nature of man is
all that it could be, and leave him a free and pro-
gressive being.

All the wretchedness of the world comes from
two things, /r^w ignorance of the relations of acts to
the great end of life, a7id that strange perverseness
which leads men to choose against the sense of Obli-
gation. If both of these evils were remedied, man
would still be a free, progressive being, as new re-
lations and conditions of activity opened before him ;
but his choices always being according to Obliga-
tion, and his comprehension of all new relations
being perfect, his course would be like that of a
ship, when it moves in a direct hne from port to port ;
while now he is at best, like a ship that makes its

2^6 Instinct. ,

way midst fogs, and darkness, and adverse winds.
And, too often, the pilot deserts the helm, leaving
the ship to float, as the winds and currents chance
to move. This condition of the race, all see and ac-
knowledge. As to the final result of this condition,
and as to the remedy for it, there is great disagree-
ment. It does not come within our province to
seek for a remedy, or to declare that none is need-
ed. It was our business in making this survey of
the instinctive principles, to find their position in
man, as a being able to guide himself, through his
higher nature, — to contrast his condition with that
of animals, which are guided by those appetites
and instincts which man is called upon to guide
and limit in himself.

Here, then, we close our discussion in relation
to man, as belonging to this world alone. He has
a physical system, with senses and reflexive move-
ments, as the animals have. He has appetites and
instincts like theirs in kind, but differing from theirs
in degree, as theirs differ among the various species.
He has instincts also, — such as we see no trace of in
them, — which relate to the progress of society.
He has a comprehending power capable of under-
standing his relations to the universe, and the pow-
er of choice in selecting his line of action, in the
world. He has, with this power, the Sense of Ob-
ligation, which impels him to act, and punishes him
if he does not ; and at the same time it impels him
to obtain the knowledge necessary for reaching the
results that secure the highest good. He suffers

Man and Animals Coinpared. 277

from ignorance ; and this shows that he is not a
perfect being now, even in the agencies which se-
cure progress. His nobleness is seen in the outfit
given him, which forbids him to remain in ignorance,
and enables him to improve by the experience and
labors of all the generations before him.

The perfection of the animal will appear in ev-
ery one of the species, if his activities have full play.
That there shall be such uniformity of excellence,
among members of the human race, if not impossi-
ble, is something for many generations yet to come
to aim at. There have, thus far, in every age, been
those whose higher nature ruled. They might be
wanting in some kinds of knowledge, but they had
reached the highest plane of action which it is pos-
sible for man to reach. There have been others,
who have given themselves up to their bodily appe-
tites and instincts. This is the lowest plane of ac-
tion to which man can sink. He is then vastly
lower, in his actions, than the brutes can be, be-
cause his animal propensities have no such limita-
tion and self-guidance, as theirs have.

The works of an animal are for himself and
those associated with him, or to spring from him.
The works of man are for generations to come, and
often for those of foreign and even hostile nations.
The animal acts best when he acts as his appetites
and instincts impel. Man feels all these impulses,
and has, in addition, the Sense of Obligation, as an
impulse, that may work with them or against them ;
and which he must obey, in all its commands, or
suffer its immediate and terrible punishment.

278 Instinct.

When we have considered the religious instincts
of man, we can mark other differences between him
and the highest of the lower animals, as we shall
then have other elements of character that belong
only to him.

LECTURE XII.

RELIGIOUS INSTINCTS. — SUMMARY AND CONCLU-
SION.

Summary of principles. — Their existence denied. — Maybe dormant —
Assert their sway .—Knozvledge of God.— Instinct of a child,—
Natural Religion.— Revelation.— Instinct of Prayer.— Of Wor-
ship.—Analogous to A?iimal Institicts.-Individual Accountability.

Diagram of Powers. — Explanation of Activities. — Choice of an

Ultimate E7id. — Provisions for every Appetite and Desire. — Sum-
vtary of Lectures.— Defects of our Education.— Maris power over
the Universe.— His relationship to it.— Prepare the way for Pro-
gress.—The Laborers needed.— Influertce of names.— Transition
Period. — Final results of the study and control of all the Powers.

We have considered man in his animal nature, as
possessing appetites and instincts which act with-
out a guiding power in them or among them. We
have also shown the relation of this animal nature
to a higher nature, which is fitted to control it, and
has, as its own possession, the means — by automat-
ic powers and free-personality— of controlling itself.
All of these powers thus balanced, would justify
themselves to Reason, if this world and the physi-
cal life of man were their only sphere of action, and
the Hmit of their duration in each individual. But
there is a whole group of emotions, aspirations and
impulses, which seem to be meaningless, if man's
conscious activity is limited to the duration of his

28o Instinct,

physical life, and there is no Intelligent Being above
him who has personal relations to him.

It is in order now for us to enumerate these act-
ive principles, of what may be called the Religious
nature of man, in distinction from his Morale and to
point out their analogy to the lower instinctive
principles. It is the work of the Natural Theolo-
gian, to interpret these principles fully and to pro-
nounce upon their value or worthlessness to man.

These instinctive principles are —

1. Belief in some supernatural being — or beings.

2. Belief in accountability, or relationship to
that being in such measure as for good or evil to
come from it.

3. BeHef in immortality, and the continuance of
this relation after death.

4. The Instinct of prayer, as a means of estab-
lishing relations with this being.

5. The Instinct of worship, including the emo-
tion of veneration and its expression.

The existence of these beliefs and impulses as
something essential to humanity, has been denied,
and they are in some cases so dormant or weak
through the degradation of the man, that like some
of the lower instinctive principles, they do not make
themselves known to observers till the proper con-
ditions are applied for bringing them into special
activity. In proof of their universality, we can only
appeal to the present condition of the race.*

These principles assert their sway over those
who, as speculative philosophers, have denied their
* See Appendix — Note A.

Existence of God. 281

existence, and they appear in some form in every
religion from the highest to the lowest. And when
men wonder at the number of religions and the ab-
surd notions connected with religious practices, they
would do well to remember that all these are man-
ifestations of the instincts or impulses of a religious
nature. They prove that man has such impulses.
And that is all we wish now to show. We are not
called upon to show that these impulses are either
useless or of the highest importance, though we are
permitted to state our belief that they are the high-
est instinctive impulses of our nature, — that Obli-
gation enters this field to strengthen every impulse
to action— and that one of the most reasonable of
all things, from the analogy of nature, is to expect
that the means of satisfying these instincts will be
provided for man.

This instinctive belief in the existence of a God,
has never of itself proved to be directive, so as to
give a knowledge of God directly, that Reason could
approve of. The knowledge of God, so far as man
has gained it for himself, has come from the com-
prehending power, — either from that portion of it
called Pure Reason, evolving necessary notions of
an absolute, perfect being ; or it has come as a ne-
cessary induction from the contemplation of the
works of nature, including the constitution of man.
From this intellectual notion of God, there would
be gradually gained by the study of God's works, a
knowledge of his character ; and from that charac-
ter, inferences could be rationally drawn as to his
relations to man and what he would do for him.

2S2 histinct.

The probability of a Revelation in words, would be
settled, and the proper tests of such a Revelation
would be determined. So that, in the end, man's
Reason would be satisfied as to the existence of
God, His character, and relations to man, and the
nature and extent of His Communications to him.
All such knowledge would be of slow growth,
and it is evident that if religion depended solely
upon such knowledge, it could only be in the later
and more perfect forms of society that an adequate
knowledge of God could be reached, or that a Rev--
elation could be so tested by Reason as to be ac- \
cepted on rational grounds.

But in distinction from all this, there is in man
the Instinct of a child, or of a dependent towards
some Unseen Power. This instinct manifests itself
as a power in all races of men, so that religion does
not begin as a product of Reason, or as a result
of induction from the study of the works of nature.
This impulse, or this instinctive belief, has been so
strong as to give rise to the numberless gods of the
heathen, and to belief in oracles, auguries, signs
and visions, for the guidance of man. They have
all been believed in, because they are such mani-
festations in kind as this instinct leads man to ex-
pect. They have been accepted in all their crudi-
ties, because the comprehending Power of man
has not done its appropriate work in giving the
hght and guidance to this instinct, which it ought
to furnish. It plainly has but two methods of giv-
ing light on this subject. The first is through the

Prayer — Worship. 283

study of nature, — or Natural Religioit ; and the
second through Revelation, which it can test, as to
its source, and consequent validity. It would lead
us too far from our subject to follow the baffled
strivings of this instinct, in seeking by itself alone
the satisfaction of its own yearnings. But there
are certain beliefs joined with this instinct that are
hke special instinctive impulses. The first is the
belief in accountability to this unseen Being ; and
the second is belief in immortality, which carries
the accountability beyond this life.

The third manifestation of instinct correlated
with the belief in God, and accountability,— or of His
personal relation to us, — is Prayer. The instinct
of prayer is the most manifest of all the religious in-
stincts, and is more nearly self-directive than any
other of them ; and it is so strong, that, at times,
it breaks through every philosophical theory of ne-
cessity, or pantheism, or atheism itself.

But in the addition to the impulse of prayer, is that
of adoration, — of worship. There is in this no ser-
vile fear ; but there may be awe. There may be no
desire of favor, but a pouring out of the soul, in
adoration and praise, which has no end beyond what
is found in the act itself, as meeting a demand of our
nature. It is the gratification of an instinct, which
forms a part of the original constitution of man.

In all these things, — belief in God, in immortal-
ity, in accountability, and in having the instinctive
impulses of prayer and praise towards art tmseen Be-
^^g, — man stands alone, so far as we can judge.

284 Instinct,

These instinctive beliefs and the instinctive actions
are strongly analogous to some found in the lower
animals, and almost a perfect type of the instincts
of a child towards a parent. But having reference
to an unsee7i Being and reaching towards another
life, they are peculiar. They are, however, in this,
analogous to the instincts of such animals as pro-
vide for the future, of which they can know noth-
ing by inference, either from their own past exper-
ience, or from any knowledge gained from those of
their kind. The analogy holds in regard to action
respecting an unknown future, but these principles
and the instincts, in other respects, are entirely un-
like. The latter relate to the continuance of the
species, or the comfort of the individual, while the
former relate to accountability, — ijidividnal account-
ability to God, — which Webster said was the greatest
thought he ever had. We have reached, then, in
the instincts of the religious nature, the origin of
the highest thoughts, and the most powerful im-
pulses to action through love or fear. And as un-
derstanding gives direction to these impulses, by
itself or through revelation, we find the authority
of obligation joined with them to secure them from
defeat by the lower nature.

We are now prepared to give a diagram that
shall aid in showing the comparative condition of
all the powers possessed in common by men and ani-
mals— it being understood that the word " IN-
STINCT " only marks the beginni7ig of that kind of
activity which is continued in some form among all
the higher powers.

Diagram of Powers.

285

Will -

Revealing
Free Personality.

' Religious Nature.
(for another life.)

Moral Nature.
^ (governing all below.)

I :

(simple /
volition.) /

/will

W
^

?

/ (simple
/volition.)

s :

/

Sensibilities. /sensibilities.

g

Intellect. j Intellect.

/ (subordinate
/ to Instinct.)

Impulses
Conditiona'i

for
Experience.

Instincts. / Instincts,
(supersensuous) / (supersensuous)
/ -
Appetites. / Appetites
(functional) / (functional)

' i

is

Conditional
for

C Reflex Action.
Animal Life \

\ Sensation.

Instirctive
Action.

r Reproduction.
Vegetative Life -|

[_ Nutrition.

Common
to Man

and
Animals.

286 histinct.

It is impossible for any diagram to adequately
represent the complex powers of man or of ani-
mals in all their relations, — for the lowest powers
are often united in action with the highest, — but it
may do something to aid us in gaining a connected
view of the activities which we have investigated, so
far as our purpose required that we should investi-
gate them.

We find at the basis of all activity, in animals
and men, the vegetative life, by which the body is
sustained and the species continued. Next to this,
comes the truly animal nature, as the condition for
sensation, reflex action, and sense-perceptions.
All these must be common to men and animals, as
the condition for instinctive action. In addition
to this machinery, we want impulse to action. And
as the first impulse to instinctive action, or one of
the first, we have the appetites which arise from the
functional activity of organs. They belong to the
vegetative life, but involve sensations and have no di-
rect dependence upon the will. Next in order we have
certain Instincts, which minister to these appetites,
or in other words, the animal has, as an original gift,
the knowledge and skill needed to enable him to
properly satisfy his appetites ; and this original
knowledge and skill constitute animal Instinct, —
Instinct in its lowest plane of action.

We have regarded Instinct when used as a gen-
eral term, as simply a name for the peculiar action
of various powers ; and have shown that so far as
any animal is wanting in any instinct or power, in
the beginning of life, to care for himself, the lack
is suppHed by the Instinct of the parent.

Intellect — Sensibility. 287

But since the Appetites are not sufficiently
broad to furnish impulses for all the action needed
for animals of high rank, we have the Desires, so
called, which do not rise from any function of the
body. These give rise to whole series of instinctive
activities, of special kinds. And so here we find in-
stinctive action rising into a higher plane than the
mere satisfying of Appetite.

The Appetites and histinctive impulses, and
the Instincts which guide action specifically, are the
necessary provision made for every being that is to
have an experience. Sometimes the instincts take
the place of experience entirely, — they always must
involve so much of original knowledge and skill
as are needful for carrying on the work of life, until
experience can be gained to aid in the work.

Above these instincts is Intellect, by which the
being comprehends relations and the results of its
own acts. In the animal, this is so low, or rather
so weak, as to be subordinated to the instincts of
the body. In man it is the servant of a higher na-
ture, which by the aid of the intellect subordinates
and controls the instincts of the body.

In both animals and men are found Sensibility
and W27/.— Sensibility in man, taking a very wide
range, compared with that in animals,— its highest
range being beyond his animal nature, into the
moral and rehgious. Will in the animal seems to
be merely the obedient executive, carrying out the
suggestions of the instinctive powers ; while in man,
it performs the same office work, and is also the
power, by which every appetite, instinct and desire,

288 Instinct,

may be held in check at the bidding of his higher
nature. In connection with this office of Will, in
man, \.\iQ power of choice is manifested, — CHOICE OF
AN ULTIMATE END FOR LIFE, or the line of activity
for life, which determines each man's position in the
world, so far as it is possible for him to break through
the bounds, which physical organization prescribes
for him. It gives individuaHty among men, from
some principle superior to physical organization,
and hence the diversity of human life. We honor
or despise men for what they are through their own
choice.

We can discover no power like this in the an-
imal. His position is marked out for him by his
structure and instincts. He has no power to learn
the history of the past, or to contemplate the possibil-
ities of the distant future, and then train himself,
by years of labor and self-denial, for the conflict.
This power man has.

Passing still higher, we find the Moral Nature,
with its great central impulse, OBLIGATION, which
governs, or ought to govern, all the powers below it.
It is to the higher nature of man what the bodily
instincts are in animals, except that in man, Intel-
lect must give the knowledge needful to direct, and
Will the limitation of action. So that every act of
man from the impulse of Obligation involves the
exercise of free personality.

Knowledge of relations through the Power of Com-
prehension, the Sense of Obligation arising in view of
that comprehension, and the Power of Choice, in accord-
ance with Obligation, or against it, are the attributes of

Religious Nature. 2S9

a PERSON. Nothing like this combination of powers
is found in the animal, nor is it needed. The natu-
ral impulses and instincts of the animal, are limited
by the functions of the body, to certain periods, or
to a given degree of strength, so that they are self-
regulative and need no hmiting power above them.
In man, they are mainly impulses indicating direc-
tion, but their limitation must come from the man
himself. They bring ruin to him before they limit
themselves.

Still higher, we find the Religious Nature, that
joins this life to another. It gives hopes of immor-
tality, belief in a Father's care, and sends the de-
sires of the heart up in prayer to Him. If there is
not another life, if there is not a Power that can
answer to our cry, then the Religious nature of man
is such a blunder as we find in no other part of
creation. Every appetite, desire, and instinct,
below, has something responsive to it. They are
all given, because there is something in the uni-
verse that answers to them. The insect deposits
her Qg<g in autumn, because the earth is to move
on hundreds of millions of miles, and bring the
spring time with warmth and leaves for her young.
So every animal instinct is answered.

Shall we believe that this Religious nature is a
mockery ? and that, in answer to all these instincts,
there is no Father to Hsten when we call? no love
to succor, and no light and blessedness beyond the
grave ? The heavens and the earth in their adap-
tation to the nature of every plant and animal on

290 Instinct.

the globe, cry out against such a belief. As we
find provisions in our earth rising in kind for every
animal and man, as their wants rise to higher
planes, we accept these provisions as proof that He,
who has cared for myriads of beings below us, and
for us to this point, has not mocked us in regard
to this one great provision which our highest na-
ture demands.

We have thus discussed, so far as we have been
able, the topics presented in our first lecture, as the
programme of our work, which we now bring to a
close.

We considered first, the operations in inorganic
nature, foreshadowing Instinct.

Here we found, in the structure of the earth, the
constitution of air and water, the change of seasons,
and chemical changes of the soil, the same kind of
provision for all organic beings, as are made by in-
stinctive knowledge and skill in the animal kingdom.

Entering then the organic kingdom, the simula-
tion of instinct was more clearly shown in the
operations of all plant life and in the physiological
changes of the animal body.

We next came to the simple instincts, that care
for the body, supplementing structure and function
of organs, so that the work begun within the body
may be carried on in a wdder sphere than structure
and function alone can reach. These simple forms
of Instinct were found to have the Appetites as
their impulses.

But these were not broad enough for all the de<

Suininary. 291

mands of animal life ; and to meet these demands
of wider range, we found impulses, or desires and
instincts, arising beyond the sphere of any specific
organization. Among the instinctive acts arising
from such impulses, we found the migration of ani-
mals, the storing of food for winter and the fear of
special enemies.

We next traced the instincts related to special
structures, and those necessary for the existence of
certain communities of animals. So much we found
needful for adult individuals. But nature cares also
for the species ; in fact, among the lower animals
the care of the individual seems to have constant
reference to the preservation of the species.

Here we found three distinct topics for discus-
sion,— the instincts of the young, to bring them
into relation with their parents and the world, — in-
stincts, which, like those of the gall-fly, demand
certain changes in other objects to complete their
work, — and the peculiar instincts of one stage of
being, preparatory to another, as seen in the devel-
opment of insects from the lowest form to the high-
est. We then treated of the variation of instinct,
through the abnormal conditions of domestication,
and of instinct, as the Law of animal life.

At this point we gave a summary, showing
Instinct not to be the manifestation of any pe-
culiar principle, but to be simply a method of ac-
tion common to all beings and to all their powers,
in a certain stage of their activity, — involving
that impulse, knowledge and skill, which the being
must have as an original gift, as a basis for expe-

292 Instinct,

rience ; as it must have a certain organization
of the body, as a basis for independent growth.
We also showed that Nature gives as httle In-
stinct to all beings as possible, and leaves the rest
to experience. But if experience is impossible,
then she completes the work by Instinct.

We then treated of Intelligence among animals,
— of Intelligence as the servant of Instinct, thus
accounting for the uniform plane of life in each spe-
cies of the animal kingdom.

Next we considered the animal Instincts proper
of man, and then his higher Instincts or Desires,
finding in them the basis of his social nature.

And last of all, we have treated of the Moral
and Religious Instincts, and have found in Obhga-
tion the great controlling instinctive impulse which
modifies all others in man.

This w^ork we have done, as we announced that
we should do it, mainly in the service of man. We
have not forgotten that the lower animals are sen-
tient beings, — that many of them have a high capac-
ity for enjoyment and suffering. When we rememi-
ber that the lower tribes alone inhabited this earth
for long ages, — compared with which, the highest
antiquity claimed for man is but as yesterday, — we
cannot regard mere animal enjoyment of the brute
creation as insignificant, in the plan of creation.
And whatever enters into that plan, is worthy of
the thought and study of man. But the capacity
for bodily suffering cannot be greater in the ani-
mal than in man ; and the bodily suffering of man,
is as nothing, compared with his capacity to suffer in

SUidy of Man, 293

his higher nature, through the wrongs of his fellow
men and his own wrong-doing against himself.
With all our boasted reforms and advance in gov-
ernment, education and religion, the degradation
and suffering that fill the dark places of the earth
are the inheritance of man, and not of the lower
animals. And this degradation comes from ignor-
ing or transgressing the law of man's being, — by
giving loose rein to the animal appetites and In-
stincts, or by attempting to repress them without
reason. We must come to a more thorough study
of man. This study must take no secondary place
in our systems of education, not even in the '' NEW
EDUCATION." We have been forgetting that the
highest knowledge for man is a knowledge of his
own powers, and of his relations to the whole uni-
verse and to God ; we have taught, at least by prac-
tice, that the highest knowledge is found in the
study of Natural Science, in its practical applica-
tions, and in the laws of trade. We have often
dignified mere aggregated facts, of local value, with
the name of science, and have thought more of con-
trolling steam-engines than of controlling the pow-
ers of men or of teaching men the necessity of con-
trolling themselves, and the methods of doing the
work. We have sent them out to study the world,
but have failed to show them how they are linked
to it, and how they ought to rise above its power
by, first of all, obeying its demands. It is only
through a knowledge of physical laws and of his
own nature, in all its planes, especially in that plane
of instinctive impulses where activities arise and

294

Instinct,

strive without his bidding, and in spite of his Will^
— it is only through this broad knowledge of self,
that man can bring every power into service, and
make it minister to the great work of life which he
has made the object of his choice. He is linked by
an iron fate to this universe, but so linked that,
through the aid of his higher powers, he may make
the whole material universe his servant, almost as
readily as he can control his own body. Can he
not whisper around the globe, as easily as across the
room ? Do not the stars and compass tell him his
pathway on the ocean ? Does he not, while he sleeps,
travel with a steed that cannot tire? Can he not
pluck the fruits of far offlands as readily as those that
grow in his own garden ? Can he not see the storm a
thousand miles away and prepare for its coming ?

It is because all nature has, or may have, rela-
tions to man, — because he is acted upon by every
force, and related to all the changes of the organic
and inorganic world, — that the study of nature is
of any value. The whole physical universe is seen
to centre in him. What problem of the past geo-
logic ages can be studied, that does not, in some
way, bear upon the question of man's origin or des-
tiny ? The Botanist and Zoologist may study abor-
tive stamens, or forms of birds' nests, but they can-
not, in this day, disconnect even these from some
theory of man. The astronomer may watch the
stars, measure the craters of the moon, analyze the
blazing tongues of fire that encircle the sun, but no
conclusion he reaches is complete till its relation
to the past, present or future of man, is determined.

Man mid the Universe, 295

Man Is the one point towards which all the rays of
light in the physical universe seem to converge.
And whatever ray is struck by the searcher foi
truth if he follows its direction, man is his ultimate
goal. We may believe that this relationship has
been established by the direct and repeated inter-
ference of Creative Power and Intelligence ; or we
may believe, if we can, that it has come from some
law of the universe, which from nebulous matter,
has evolved all past and present forms of life ; but
the fact of rnan's universal relationship still remains.

We announced, in the beginning of this course,
that it was no part of our plan to discuss theories
of development, which attempt to account for the
origin of the relations among organic beings. We
have referred to them, only incidentally. Our work
has been, mainly, to find how things are, what the
relations are, which the instinctive principles of ac-
tion now estabHsh between the animal kingdom and
the world around it, and especially, the position of
these principles in man. We have found it impos-
sible to study these, without showing their relation
to every class of powers which man possesses. And
so complex is man, — so linked together are all his
activities, — they so act together in every effort he puts
forth, — that he must be studied as a whole, before any
one portion of his nature can be fully tmderstood.
Each portion of his nature has relations to the
others, and he has relations to the world, upon
which his whole activity depends.

It has unfortunately happened that too many
have attempted to study man, without due atten-

296 Instinct.

tion to these relationships. Some have placed man
in a world of their own creation, that does not cor-
respond to the world of reality. Others have studied
him from a single stand point, in physical science.
Others, still, have ignored the truly animal nature,
which is the agency through which man works, and
by which he may be controlled.

The result of all such partial study of his nature,
has been unfortunate, — unfortunate for science, but
more unfortunate in its influence on the social, in-
tellectual, and moral progress of the race.

All the problems that relate to man will not be
settled by the present generation, nor within the
coming century. We are only in the infancy of
those sciences, which are to fully reveal to us man's
nature, and the best conditions of his physical, so-
cial, and moral development. Thousands of mis-
takes will be made in PoHtics, Religion, and Edu-
cation in all its branches, before our schools will
present to us a course of study and discipline that
will be what the best good of the world demands.
Our railroads, telegraphs, and other inventions and
discoveries, will be perfected long before a perfect, or
even tolerable, system of education and form of gov-
ernment, will be agreed upon by all men, even when
they have the same society to provide for. What
can we do in such a chaos of opinion ? Little more
than to understand that there is chaos, and govern
ourselves accordingly. Instead of ruthlessly pulling
down what has been done, before our time, simply
because there is clamor for change, let it stand till
its uselessness or injury is clearly seen, — it will do

Progress. 297

little harm till then. Instead of undertaking to
complete the work, which will take the time, and
strength, and wisdom, and suffering, of many gen-
erations, let us write upon all our work, '' To be
taken away, zvke?i better materials and better methods
are discovered'' Let us encourage those who are
to come after us, to make progress, by sweeping
our work away as soon as its defects are seen. But
instead of this, we are likely to be satisfied with
a defective structure because it is the work of our
own hands, or of those whom we admire, and to
pronounce anathemas upon him who shall dare to
remove its foundations, or even speak slightingly
of its boasted perfections. Thus the influence of a
great name has reached down through generations,
protecting gross errors that ought to have been
swept away— errors that palsied the power of thought,
and forbade the growth of man's better nature.

In contrast to this veneration for established error,
because it has long passed current for truth, we find
those who would sweep from modern life every ves-
tige of the past. Their strength is spent mainly in
demoHshing ; or, if they build at all, it is with wood,
and hay, and stubble, hastily gathered and destined
soon to perish.

We claim for ourselves no right to entail errors
upon those who come after us ; nor dare we yet
stand idle, for fear of making mistakes. He w!io
waits till he is sure of not making them, will do
very little for the world.

When I consider how m.uch still remains un-

298 Instinct.

known, — when I consider the mistakes of the best
observers, and the disagreements of those who in-
terpret accepted facts, I can only assure myself that
these subjects have been presented as I have read
them in nature, and can only hope that the work
has been done with due caution. The conclusions
are presented as suggestions, whose truth is to be
tried by future observers. No one will be more
pleased than myself, when these conclusions are dis-
placed by others, which plainly arise from broader
and sounder generalizations. But such generaliza-
tions can never be reached by those theorists who
manufacture their own facts, nor by those observers
who have reduced themselves by their narrow fields
of labor to the condition of scientific artisans.

To secure the results which all desire, — the full
knowledge of man in all his relations, — two classes
of laborers are needed ; those who give to a single
department of Nature, or phase of society, the study
of a lifetime, and those who have power to use
the labors of such men in forming a system of ed-
ucation or the machinery of government. But the
specialist is often tempted to generalize far beyond
where he has the ability to go. His success in one
department gives him courage to enter fields as a
master, where he is only a novice. His acknowl-
edged excellence, in a single department, gives his
words weight on subjects of which he is utterly ig-
norant. So it not unfrequently happens that a
learned man does as much mischief by his crude
theories on subjects beyond his sphere of knowl-
edge, as he does good by his positive additions to

Progress of Natural Science. 299

science, in his own proper field of labor. The sys-
tematizer, on the other hand, is often so wanting in
the power of original observation, and scientific
training, and so ignorant of Nature, as to be unable
to secure facts for himself or to test and select
those fitted for his purpose, when they are supplied
by others. He is likely to start with just facts
enough of local value to lead him astray in all
broad generalizations. He treats of the world as
he sees it in one isolated spot, or as he thinks it
ought to be. He forms a logical system of science,
but when it is carefully tested, Nature disowns it.
She has a logic of her own. His theories are with-
out support. The first careful observer points out
their defects and they become a mass of rubbish to
lumber book-shelves.

There is apparently no help for this state of
things in the present condition of science ; espe-
cially of those departments of science which relate
to human life and action.

In Natural science the materials are fast accu-
mulating. We have abroad an army of trained ob-
servers far better than the world ever saw before.
The means of observing, — the telescopes, micro-
scopes, spectroscopes, and museums, as well as the
means of travelling, — are tenfold better than they
were a century ago. In one year a man may see
more of the earth than Humboldt could see in ten.
Give him now Humboldt's power of seeing, — not
with the eyes alone, but with the mind, — and how
wonderfully have these modern inventions increased
his power of observing ! Thus, early in life, can

300 histinct,

now be gathered materials which were utterly be-
yond the reach of the great masters of the past
ages. These facilities are now put to their best
use, by a most accurate training of the senses. The
whole man has been trained as an observer of na-
ture. In the observing and recording of facts,
great accuracy has been secured, so that in the
works of our greatest living naturalists, we can, in
the majority of cases, implicitly trust their state-
ment of facts, even while dissenting entirely from
the conclusions, which they draw from those facts.
This is a great step. For although facts are not all,
— for facts may lead astray, — yet we must have
them. They are the materials with which we are to
build. It is a great point to be sure of our mate-
rials— to have them in abundance, to be sure that
they are sound enough to bear the strain, if they
are only put in the right position.

If we could have the facts without the crude
theories, which bind them together and too often
conceal them, or keep them from their appropriate
use, — as brick and stone are wasted in poorly con-
structed buildings with low ceilings, in gloomy
corners, and over cesspools, which bring disease to
all that inhabit them, — we should be fortunate.
But few men are like David of old, willing to col-
lect materials that others may build wisely and well.
The building must go up with crude and scanty
materials, according to some hastily-formed plan.
Such a building sometimes stands for generations,
because some famous man built it, or slept in it ;
or simply because it has stood so long, that it seems

Transition Period. 301

a sort of sacrilege to tear it away ! So it is with
systems of belief — with theories. They may
abound with uncontrovertible facts, but every fact
may still be the source of mischief, because misinter-
preted. And yet these theories stand because they
have some famous names to uphold them.

But let us have faith and patience. The solar
system had to wait long before man could see its
beauty, from the Sun as centre, and form a true
system of Astronomy. Men raged against a true
theory of the heavens as infidel and absurd, and
clung to their old systems invented by great men.
The chemical elements waited longer to have men
leami their simple laws of combination, and that
bodies become heavier by being burned. Not a
century has passed since men believed in phlogis-
ton,— that something escaped from bodies when
burning, so that they become lighter, — as some
men now believe that when the air is heavy, the
smoke falls ! Longer still did the earth wait to
have her strata counted and measured ; and a few
of the generation still remain, who believe that
the earth is not quite six thousand years older than
themselves.

When old notions begin to break up because
shown to be false, then men rush to opposite ex-
tremes. Then, in the disturbance of the transition
period,3.\l sorts of crudities appear. The best thing
for the overthrow of a bad theory, is that it shall
have as many supporters and hard workers in its
favor as possible. As a building with poor founda-
tion, and weak materials, and defective workman-

302 Instinct,

ship, Is sure to fall by its own weight, if built high
enough, so a false theory is most readily destroyed,
by encouraging its upholders to pile upon it every
fact they can accumulate. False theories, — those
venerable with age, and those glittering with the
polish which genius has just given them, — have
their worshippers and admirers.

All these things will right themselves. The
generations will die, and the influence of great
names is growing less every year. The homes of
the great do not stand long in the way of modern
progress. I passed along your streets, and saw the
crape upon the door, and knew that the great Ora-
tor, Statesman, and Scholar slept in the hom^ he
had hallowed by his presence, — a home that in
other days might have become a shrine. I passed
that way again. The home had vanished. Mass-
ive walls of stone had taken its place, and the " EV-
ERETT Block " was echoing with the din of trade.
So the opinions of the great men of this age must
meet the wants of the age, or they cannot stand.
The theories that charm the crowd, will stand only
as they represent the truth. For it is with truth
that men will build to stand. It must be block,
and cement, and form. And if man would build
for his own wants, and for the world, that which
will remain, he must study himself — all his needs —
his needs as an animal, as a man, as an individual,
as member of society, — and as a worshipper of the
Invisible. When all the members of society under-
stand all these things, there will no longer be a re-
pression of instincts as wicked. They will be cul-

Conchisiojis. 303

tured to their full extent as conditions for higher
action. They will be trained in obedience to a will
guided by Intellect, and urged on by Obligation.
They will be ready, at any moment, to come into
action, at any moment to retreat, to lead in the
fight, or to support another division. Then will
the man be educated, and then, and not till then,
will there be as true a theory in every department
of Nature, and of human life, as there is now of the
Solar System. Then " men will build states and
churches as naturally as caterpillars build webs,"
and for the same reason that they build them now,
because their instincts compel them to the work ;
but then they will build them as wisely as caterpillars
build webs, because they will be as truly self-guided
by the use of the higher powers, as the caterpillar
is wisely guided by the lower instinct, that blindly
directs, giving knowledge and skill. Happy will
be the thousandth generation, if the moral Instincts
and Intellect combined, appropriating all the provi-
sions that have been made for them, shall approach
in their uniform results for man, what the lowest in-
stinctive principles to-day, secure for the lowest
tribes of creation.

APPENDIX.

NOTE TO TWELFTH LECTURE.

The conditions under which the Lectures were delivered, made it
difficult, if not impossible, to consider the arguments that have been
urged against the possession of religious instincts by man, from the
time of Locke's war against innate ideas to the present day. A few
points from various writers, may enable us to give the doctrine here
announced, a fairer presentation, than has been made in the Lec-
ture.

It is not contended, that these instincts or their products, exist
in man naturally, in any such sense as the " inflate ideas " were
supposed to exist, — the doctrine of which Locke opposed. What his
notion was of that innate idea of God, which he denied the existence
of, he informs us, B. i. ch. iv., § 17. — " If God had set any impres-
sion and character on the understanding of men, it is most reason-
able to expect it should have been some clear and uniform idea of
Himself, as far as our weak capabilities were capable to receive so
incomprehensible and infinite object."

Such an idea of God, which should give to man, or be to man, all
the knowledge of God which he is capable of securing, no one, cer-
tainly, at the present day, would believe to be innate.

What we intend to teach, is that the nature of man is such, that
in its developments, the religious instincts which we have mentioned,
arise as naturally and as necessarily, as impulses, and cojiditions of
progress in the true knowledge of God and of our relations to him, as
the animal instincts arise at certain times, as the condition of growth
in knowledge by experience. A child may die so young that not
one of Its appetites, desires or instincts, ever comes into play, that we
know of. Do we on that account say, that such a child had none of
them .' We may say that, because none of them had come into ac-

3o6 Instinct,

tivity, but he had a nature that would surely give rise to them, under
the proper conditions for its normal development. They are pro-
vided for in the nature of his being ; and that is all we mean to say of
the religious instincts. One may be so young, so deficient in origin-
al mental power, or so degraded, that these religious instincts have
not been called into activity — sufficiently certain, to make any im-
pr-ission on the observer.

The writers who deny the existence of any thing like an innate idea
of God, seem almost uniformly to admit, by implication, what seems to
us to be proof of the existence in man of these religious instincts as
we have explained them. And we refer here again to the distinc-
tions drawn in the Tenth Lecture, between instinctive and intuitive
knowledge.

Locke in the section from which we have quoted (§ 17) says, —
" though the knowledge of a God be the most natural discovery of
human Reason, yet the idea of Him is not innate." We do not be-
lieve that the idea of a God is innate, as Locke used the word " idea,"
nor in any proper use of that word. But why is it, that " the knowl-
edge of a God (should) be the most natural discovery of the human
Reason" as Locke admits, unless it be on account of those special
impulses and tendencies in man's nature, which we call instincts, that
certainly urge him on, and in a measure direct him, so that he may
intellectually make the full discovery of that which shall satisfy the
yearnings of his being ? The knowledge of a God, of which Locke
speaks, considered abstractly, is not easy at all ; and the fact that
children receive it so fully as they do, at so early an age, is proof of
some special adaptability of the ideas relating to God, to the human
mind.

Cousin, in his examination of Locke, has made some good points
on this subject, which we may quote, without assenting to all that is
implied in the extracts. " Every thing leads to God" says he. And
again, " Do not go to consult the savage, the child, the idiot, to
know whether they have the idea of God ; ask them, or rather with-
out asking them any thing, ascertain if they have the idea of the im-
perfect and the finite ; and if they have it, — and they cannot but have
it. if they have the least apperception, — be sure that they have an
obscure and confused idea of something infinite and perfect ; be su7-e
that what they discern of themselves and of the world, does not suffice
them, and that they, at once, humble and exalt themselves in an inti-
mate faith in the existence of something i?tfnite a7id perfect, that is to

Appendix. 307

say, of God. The tvord may be wanting among them, because thr
idea is not yet clear and distinct ; but no less does it exist within the
folds of the opening intelligence, and the philosophic observer easily
discovers it there."

Passing many of the able thinkers, who have treated of this sub-
ject in some form, as Psychologists simply, we are more interested at
present, with the views of .those, who have of late treated it, from the
broader field of view — Anthropology.

Mr. Darwin, in his " Descent of Man," published since these
Lectures were written, denies that man has naturally the idea of
God, but he grants all we claim, when he says, " If, however, we in-
clude under the term ' religion ' the belief in unseen or spiritual
agencies, the case is wholly different, fo7- this belief seems to be al-
7nost universal with the less civilized races." And the poor Fuegian
declared in the most solemn manner, says Mr. Darwin, " Oh, Mr.
Boynoe, much rain, much snow, blow much," when he saw Mr, Boy-
noe, needlessly, as he thought, killing the ducks. And yet Mr. Dar-
win adds, that he could never discover that the Fuegians believed in
what we should call a God ! Probably not. Nor is that the ques-
tion here. The question is M^hether they had struggling within, an
instinct that tended to reveal God, or to lead them to seek for a
knowledge of God by all its impulses and tendencies, as other in-
stincts work in man. It took the killing of those ducks to bring out
the belief of the Fuegian, in an unseen being who controlled the ele-
ments, and in man's accountability to him for his actions.

Sir John Lubbock, after presenting his proof against the exist-
ence of any knowledge of God, among the degraded tribes of men,
considering all their superstitions, expresses this sentiment, which is
quoted approvingly by Darwin, and commented upon by him, as fol-
lows : " ' // is not too much to say that the JwiTible dread of tinknown
evil hangs like a thick cloud over savage life, and eniMtters every pleas'
tire.' These miserable and indirect consequences of our highest fac-
ulties, may be compared with the incidental and occasional mistakes
of the instincts of the lower animals." To all this we agree, only
substituting religious instincts for " highest faculties," and add that
the mistakes of these, are more terrible than those of the lower in-
stincts, because they are higher, and are linked in their activity, with
all of man's highest powers. They struggle, but they need light and
guidance, which must come to them, through the comprehending
powers, from the Revelations in God's works and Word.

Il^DEX.

A.

A 1 M. PAGE

Accountability 2^^^ ^g^

Alchemists, crude belief of the 3^

Anatomy, comparative

Animals, method of investigating the subject '36

body upbuilding in ^^^^^ g^^ g^

their methods of securing food 91,' 92

forms of, examples 96-'io2

uniformity of method in 103, 106

simulating death to preserve their life ' ng

dependence of one upon another 16c; 155

preservation of the fittest " i5g

appetites self-regulating in jy ,

spontaneous activities given to, according to their

need and not their rank ig^ jg-

acts of, depending upon acquired knowledge 188

are they thinking beings ? jgg

compared anatomically with man 192, 103

senses of, and psychological effect of sensations. 193-197

their capacity for enjoyment and suffering 195

emotions of fear and anger in ig6, 197

desires for esteem, power, society 197, jgg

esthetic nature in loo 200

do they reason and learn from experience ? 201

intelligent and stupid 202

taming, trapping and training 203

character of whole species may change 204, 205

memory in 205^ 206

governing principle in 207, 208

"g^tsof '200

309

3IO Index.

PAGE

Animals, relation of young to mother 217 218

acting in reference to contingent events 235, 236

instinct in — its analogy to obligation in men. . . .267, 270

Ant, red, white, brown 150

community, agricultural 139, 235

Anthropology, study of it in reference to universal belief in

God 307

Aphides, cared for by ants 235

Apple blossoms, wonderful workmanship of 64

Arbutus 60

B.

Baconian philosophy in reference to study of science 24, 25

Bear, its effort to climb 114

Beavers, organized action of 142, 143

Bee, honey, bumble, carpenter, queen mother bee

9S, 130, 131, 149, 150

Darwin's theory of instinct in the 151, 153

how did the bee become a builder? 152

Being Law of, defined 256-259

Belief Primary, in external world and uniformity of Nature, . . 239

Benevolence, as a principle of action 246

Birch, how its seed is provided for 65

Bird, black, crow, cow 102, loS, 109-138

Birds, growth of 87

young and their relation to the mother 95, ciS

their nest building loo, 1:0

The most wonderful work of, the result of instinct. ... no
Warning note of, or the common call for aid and ex-
ample 117

knowledge of and fear of their enemy at first sight. ... 176

Bloodhound, his keen scent and structure for running 1S2

Body of men and animals, how developed So

Brain, organ of mind 33

C.

Caltha, golden 60

Carrion fly plant 164, 176

Index, 3 1 1

PAGE

Catch-fly 6i

Caterpillars 134. 165, 303

Caves, bone, become ancestral mansions 17, iS

Cell, single 77,78

Cement, coming from body of builder 97

Chemical affinity — elements 44, 83

Choice of an ultimate End 288

Cicada, acts without previous instruction 135

Civilization, Guizot's definition 35

Cod-fish, some instinctive acts of 29

Cohesion 43, 208

Comb of honey bee 97

Community-system 138, 150

Complexity with uniformity 142-146

Conscience 272

Consciousness 272

Com, Indian, special contrivance in • • • 65

Cousin, in reference to belief in the Infinite 3°^

Creator, Personal • 4^, 63

Creative Power, seeks simplicity through unity 32

Cuckoo, European, builds no nest 102

D.

Darwin 73, I5I-I53, 307

David, willing to collect material for others to use 300

Deity, benevolence of the 194

Diagram, showing relation of instinct to other powers . . . .285-288

Dogs, bull, hound, pointers, spaniel, Newfoundland 182

Domestication, the effect of it upon animals 159

E.

Earth, the 45

supplements, structure, function and instinct 50

Eddystone lighthouse, designed from the oak 56

Egg, robin 81, 84-S8

Elm, seed of 65

Emerson, a quotation from 224

Emotions , 196

312 Index.

PAGE

End, definition of an 47

Entozoa 91 , 166

Esquimaux 205

Evolution 80, 81

from seed 78

from species go

Experience, influence of it in men and animals 173

Eye, the, adjusts itself to new conditions 113

F.

Faith, an instinctive principle of progress 245

Fish gi, 175, 204, 217

Fitness, to begin with, before variation is possible 169

Fly catcher, the great crested 104

trap 61

Fly, bot, gall 66, 164-167

Flies, why they lay eggs on carrion plant 176

Flocks, organization of — examples I3g-I4i

Food, securing 91, 96

Fowls 116

Fuegian See Appendix, 307

Function and adaptation, refer to welfare of individual plant. 70

and structure 7i> 95

Functional action 8g

varies with conditions. Example, fur, eye,
woodbine, bean T13, 114

G.

Geology 18

Geologic change simulates instinct 52, 53

Germ, agency of life in the 75

God, Economy of His plan 22

Golden rod, protects insect foes 66

Gravitation 43, 208

Greenland 133, 141

Growth, method of growth 78, 79

in bird 87

in complex being — what is required for it 88

Index, 313

PAGE

Grouse, Ptarmigan— color and instinct united to protect it 133

H.

Hawk, fish, night, hen Qi. loi, 106

Hen 158,160,176

History ^^

Natural and Speculative Philosophy 30

Homes of animals • -96-103

Hopkins, Mark, quotations 240, 24S

Hornets' nests ^6

Huber 122,152

Humboldt 299

Tj , 76, S8

Huxley ' '

I.

Iceland, coast of ^^5

Impulses "9

to build 106, 107

independent of organization I75

Individual, sacrificed for good of species I57, 158

Insects wonderful correlation between form, color, and instinct

in...' ; ;•••• ^33

Instinct, to be studied in service of man, some difficulties to

be met ^3

definitions of 25, 26. 40-42, 48, 136, 1S5, 227

apparent work of, and how secured 27, 28

bec^ins by utilizing structure and function — exam-
ples 28

must be investigated as a fact 34» 35

an absolute necessity in animal life 37

what the scheme in this study of it, embraces 37> 38

definitions by Paley, Whately, Hamilton. . .26, 40, ^i, 42

alone is useless 48

structure and function supplemented by the earth. .

50, 51, 52

seems to take counsel with physical forces 53, 54

provisions in plant, like 55> 58

hornets' nests the work of 57

works with apparent forethought 59

314 Index,

PAGE

Instinct, imitation of, in plant life 60, 62

connected with structure and function 71-74

its first connection in bird with processes below

it 85, 87

and physiology work together in every animal S9

structure and function in reference to past species. . 90

of one animal takes advantage of that of another, . . 91

not burdened with what function can do 92

is proved by the wisdom of the act 93

pure, needs no experience 94

preserves life until knowledge from experience is

possible 94, 95

a natural development according to fixed law, . .95, 96

permanence of type in the work of 103

not to be counfounded with intelligence — pure in-
stinct 107, loS

defective — supplemented 109

the relation between — and appetites should be under-
stood to avoid great confusion 112

accomplishes results without the comprehension of

means and ends in the actor 112

self-adjusting pov/er of. Examples — eye, woodbine,

bean T13, 114

study of plant life needed to prevent wrong conclu-
sions in reference to 115

higher manifestations of — that have no relation to

appetites or functions 115

fear of enemies makes one animal a sentinel for

others 116

causes united action in time of danger — illustration. 117
to simulate death in order to save life, an original

gift iiS

not a perfect guide in climatic changes — ex-muskrat. 119
leads the partridge to plunge beneath the snow for
protection from cold — but death sometimes fol-
lows in consequence 121

enables some animals to find their homes 122

necessity of careful observation in the study of.. 123, 124

Index, 315

PAGE

Instinct, in connection with hibernation 125, 126

in relation to special structure and function, as seen
in the rattlesnake, bee, wasp, hornets and spiders,

12S-132
correlation between — form and color — examples,
grouse, ptarmigan-grouse, sage hen, spiders,

caterpillars 132-134

ready for most complex acts, when previous experi-
ence or observations are impossible. Illustration,

The Seventeen Year Locust 134, 135

not an entity 135. 13^^

seen in dependent species to secure the services of

other species. Examples, ants, cow-bird 139

for social life, after the breeding season is over 139

for organization with a leader, or system of senti-
nels. Examples, crows, pigeons, pelicans, arctic

tern 140, 142

to build extensive works. Example, muskrat, bea-
ver 142, 145

diversity of — structure and function — making divi-
sion of labor necessary. Examples, bees, wasps,

ants, with Darwin's explanation 149-156

connected with change of function in the mother. . . 158

influence of domestication on ". 159

of the young answering to the instincts of the

mother 160

as perfect in the beginning as now, proved by the

very existence of some animals i6cy-i62

requiring changes in other kinds of animals, or in

plants, for the completion of its work 162

the peculiar instinct of one stage of being as prepar-
atory to another, in which that instinct is lost —

seen in the case of many insects 162

changes with the seasons 163

secures special relations of animals to plants, and to
each other. Examples — gall-fly, tent-moth, apple-
tree borer, oaks, roses, spruces, golden rod,
ichneumon insects, caterpillars, bot-fly 164-168

3i6 Index ^

PAGE

Instinct, guides the young of those species that are not to
have parental care, and develops, or changes, as

the condition of animal changes 169

a law for the animal 170, 174, 207-208

its uniformity among animals 171, 172

influence of experience on 173

is not infallible 175

varies, to secure a given relation of the animal to the

world 176

leading to an act essential to life, is sometimes
linked to the senses. Examples — fly, young bird,

hen 176, 177

variations of 177, iSi, 182

qualities of I79

change of, in strength and quality, with correspond-
ing change of structure — examples 182

modified, in consequence of abnormal conditions. . . 1S3

no indications of any new 184

what the general term includes 185

given to animals according to their need, rather than

rank 1S5

instinct begins the act — Intelligence may carry it on 186
activities included in the general term — the sole guide

of many lower tribes 187

proper, has no stupidity 201

one may control another 207

is it the same in man as in animals ? 20S-213

the animal in man difficult of separation from his

highest instincts 215, 216

control of, by man 221

in man, is it separate from desires ? 222-224

sphere of — its true nature learned, by knowing what

powers men and animals have in common 226

comparison of it, in men and animals 226

products of 227

Impulse, knowledge, skill, all involved in the mani-
festations of activities called 227, 22S

difiference between, and intuitions 230, 231

Index, 3 1 7

Instinct, purposes of, for life, progress, benevolence, worship 237
that has appetite as its basis is never self-regulative

in man 241, 242, 249, 250

in man, governed by the sense of obligation. . . . 267, 268

religious, in man 280-284

its comparative place in rank with other powers of

man — diagram 285-290

summar>' of the presentation of the subject in these

lectures 290-292

this investigation made in the service of man . . .292-295

Instinctive acts in animals 28, 29, 67, 63

young robin 85

taken for reflexive 23S

Individual welfare sacrificed for the good of the species. . 157, 158
Intellect in aaimals can be detected only as they perform the
same acts under the same conditions and by the
same means or methods as man performs them. 190-192

and moral sense compared 303

Intelligence 34, 207, 208, 211, 292

Intuitions, relate to abstract truths 231

Iron, in building up the body S3

K.
Kingfisher 161

L.

Lake deposits 17

Laws, of human life 20

Law, need of civil 243

Life, conditions of 49

results of, as an agency, a builder 74-78

origin of 76

variables in 82-84

Locke, in reference to " innate ideas " . .' Appendix, 307

Lubbock, Sir John, in reference to knowledge of God among
degraded tribes of men Appendix, 307

M.
Man, what is he ? the central question that relates to the pres-
ent world ig-2i

3l8 Index,

PAGE

Man, that which is distinctive in man can only be reached by
exhaustive comparison between him and the lower

animals 22

a complex machine, and the engineer 21

comparison of his anatomical structure with that of the

lower animals 32, 33, 192, 193

metaphysical conclusions with reference to man lie at
the foundation of all systems of education and morals 34

appetites of, compared with those of animals 174, 206

his senses and sensations, compared with those of ani-
mals 193-T95

his animal nature essential for this world, but no new

law of physiology found in it 212

impulses in 213,214

his difference in kind from animals, found in the super-
sensual part of his being 214

free personality in 215

an animal, and also the image of God 215

begins life on same plane with animals 216

can control his instincts 221

desires in, their method of action 222-223

desires the basis of his social nature, and a means of

progress 224, 225

Instincts of his rational nature 229-231

his instinctive belief in uniformity — connection of cause

and effect 233, 234

faith and benevolence instinctive principles in 245, 246

law of limitation for 248

his higher nature involves distinct methods of activ-
ity 249, 250

his lower nature adapted for service, but must be gov-
erned 249, 250

has power to comprehend himself 251, 252

his relations so complex that each man has something

different from every other 253

new spheres of activity opening before him 253

Will in — combined with his rational nature leads to no
higher motive than expediency 254

Index, 3^9

PAGE

Man, sense of obligation in 254, 255

law of his being, where found, and defined 255-277

difference between, and an animal, found in three dis-
tinctive powers of his higher nature 273

two causes of wretchedness in him 275

close of discussion of, as belonging to this world alone. 276

his nobleness seen in the outfit given to him 277

the lowest plane of action to which he can sink 277

the works of, compared with those of animals in their

277
aim ' '

the conscious activity of, not limited to the duration of
his physical life 279

enumeration of the five instinctive principles of the re-
ligious nature of 280

his belief in the existence of God universal, but a reve-
lation needed for adequate knowledge of God 281-283

innate idea of God See Appendix, 305-307

belief in accountability the result of, or joined with, the
instinct of a child, or dependent toward some unseen
power 282,283

the instinct of prayer, correlated with belief in God
and in accountability 2^3

worship is the gratification of an instinct, which forms
a part of the original constitution of man 283

his belief in immortality 2S3, 284

diagram of his powers and their relative import-

ance.

individuality in — the result of will, and power of choice
of an ultimate end for life 288

certain attributes in, not found in or needed by ani-
mals 288,289

his highest needs not disregarded by his Creator. . .289, 290

all this discussion of instinct has been done mainly in
the service of man 292

the study of man must take no secondary place in our
systems of education 293

to secure the full knowledge of man in his present rela-
tions, two classes of laborers are needed 298

320 Index.

PAGE

Man, the whole physical universe centres in man 294

is so complex in his nature that he must be studied as a
whole, before any one part of his nature can be fully

understood 295

all the problems concerning him will not be settled for
many long years, nor without taking the time,

strength and wisdom of many generations 296, 297

the conclusions in this discussion are only presented as
suggestions whose truth is to be tried by future ob-
server* 29S

when fully understood, there will be the right system of
education, and as true a theory in every department
of nature and human life, and there is now of the

solar system 303

Marriage, high and holy 220, 221, 242

Migration 119

Mind 33

Mineral kingdom — force of cohesion differs from life, the force

of the organic kingdom 33

Mistakes in politics, religion and education . .^ 296

Mistletoe 66

Morgan, Lewis H. , on the beaver 142-146

Muskrat : 99, 120, 145

N.
Natural religion — the study of nature gives light and guidance

to the religious instinct 283

selection 124, 152-156, 159

history 30, 298, 299

Nature 20, 48

provides for the animal according to the condition in

which it is to enter upon life 176

Rational in man 229, 230

Religious, revelation needed for the 2S3, 289

Nest building 96-109

why some are better built than others 106

O.
Oak 55-57

hidex.

321

PAGE

Oak Pruners 167

Obligation 267, 272

Observation, necessity of 123

Orchid flowers, special contrivance in 73

Oriole 102

Osmose, chemical action, and mechanical structure are but

servants 88

Ought 220

Owl, as an illustration 117

P.

Partridge 121

Philosophy, speculative 30

Physiology and instinct work together 8g

Plant, activities in the 26

apparent forethought in the 59

secret processes in 60

often seems like a sentient being providing for
growth, enjoyment, rest. Examples— sensitive plant,

sunflower, water-lily 60, 62

sex among plants 63

young provided for by the parent plant 63, 65

as protector and supporter of animal life. Examples,

oak, golden rod, potentilla, willow and spruce 66

adaptation of means to ends. Example — tent-moth. . . 70
special contrivances in. Examples — orchid flowers. ... 73
change of action in, according to surrounding condition
or the change in it, example — woodbine, bean, potato 114

Positivism 47

Prayer 283

Progress, in society, in knowledge of men, and in natural

science 224, 29S-300

Providence 253

Protoplasm 77

Psychological prism needed 215

Ptarmigan grouse of Greenland 133

Q-

Question in this discussion to be " What is it ? " — not '' Hov.-
is it ? " 46

322 Index.

PAGE

Queen mother bee 149

Quality, gives power 180

R.
Rattlesnake, instinctive action of the, and machinery for it .28, 129

Reason, pure 281, 282

Reflex action lower than instinctive 219

Religion, does not begin as a product of reason 2S2

Revolution, reformation caused by progress 225

Robin, egg and nest 84, 102

Roses, provide food and lodging for young insects 165

S.

Sage hen of Rocky Mountains 133

Salmon 29, 1 75» 232

Sea urchins 185

Seed, the fertilization and distribution of 64-66

Selection, natural 124, 152-159

Sensation, we have reflex action from 44

Silkworm, silk and cocoon of the 28

Smeaton, the lighthouse builder, from study of the oak 55

Sparrow, chipping, or hair-bird 102

Species, some of them exist, not through natural selection, but

in spite of it, as seen in special contrivances. 173

Spencer 88

Spider 96, 132-134

Stansbury, Major, on the Utah Lake pelican 141

Sticklebacks qS

Structure and function, their relation to each other 71. 72

Sun, sunflower, sun-dew 60, 61

Swallow, bank, chimney ioi> 161

T.

Tent-moth 68, 164, 167

Theories, will stand only as they represent truth 164, 167

Thrushes 102

Transition period in science 301-303

Tree, a community of individuals, which it supports and pro-
vides for 55-57

Index. 323

U.

PAGE

Utah Lake 141

V.

Variables 82, S4

Variations in plants and animals, and accidental 155, 178, 179

Vertebrate type 32

Vireo 108

W.

Wallace. Theory' in reference to nest-building. .104, 105, 133, 154

Warblers 108

Wasp-Paper 98, 130, 131

Webster, Daniel, on individual accountability to God 284

Willow 66

Wilson 122

Woodbine 114

Woodpecker 161

Wren 161

^

QL781E72

BOSTON UNIVERSITY

Instinct: its office in the animal kingd

1 17n 0D57E 315a

"k