was weighed, the sails filled with the chill north wind, and slowly
the gallant ship stood down the harbor. Soon cries from many mouths
announced that a new object of interest had been discovered; a large
crow was seen hovering over the ship, now rising and now sinking,
and flapping its black funeral wings over it. In those days of
superstition an incident like this was, in the absence of every
other sign, sufficient of itself to create consternation and dismay.
In this instance, when so many omens of evil had occurred, it may
well be supposed that the appearance of the dark messenger did not
tend to allay the fears and misgivings of the town's-people. The
motions of the bird were watched by all with intense interest. After
hanging over the ship, or sweeping round for ten or fifteen minutes,
now flapping so far away as to create hopes of its disappearance
altogether, and then returning again to crush those hopes in the
very bud, it finally settled down slowly, and alighted upon the main
truck, where it remained until the ship herself was lost to the
sight of all, save those who had trusted themselves to her strength,
and that 'Eye that never sleeps.'
Slowly the multitude dispersed, with many shakings of the head and
doubtful looks, with many whisperings among themselves, and many
misgivings of the heart, that they had taken their last look of the
gallant bark.
* * * * *
A MONTH had rolled away since the departure of the ship, when
one night the inhabitants of Salem were aroused from their beds,
to behold a strange sight in the heavens. It was that of a large
ship, apparently under full sail, with every yard braced up, and
every square inch of canvass spread to its full extent; but from
every point, from deck to trucks and from stem to stern, wide
lurid flames of fire were streaming up, with fearful and appalling
brilliancy. For two more nights the same scene was witnessed, with
this difference on the third, that the ship was seen to go down
very suddenly below the horizon in the height of the conflagration,
instead of fading away gradually, as on the two previous nights. It
'was an honest ghost' of THE DOOMED SHIP. The 'Countess of Pembroke'
was never heard of more.
THE DEITY.
BY MISS MARY GARDINER, OF SHELTER-ISLAND, SUFFOLK COUNTY.
BENEATH the quenchless light
Of the broad day-god's life-imparting ray,
Wrapt in the gloomy clouds of mental night
That round him thickly lay,
The ancient Persian bowed, and at that shrine
Worshipped the glorious effluence as divine.
THOU! whose creative voice
Called from the depths of chaos form and might,
Bade at a word unnumbered worlds rejoice
In that effulgent light;
Sun of the Universe! to THEE I bow,
Almighty GOD! list to my humble offering now!
Before the stars of night
In circling systems moved through yonder sky,
THOU! from Eternity's unmeasured height,
Wrapt in immensity,
Beheld the earth chaotic solitude,
And ages roll away in their infinitude.
Can human thought explore
The boundaries of THY kingdom, or define
Mid all the orbs that sweep the blue vault o'er
Those that remotest shine?
E'en Science pauses in her proud career,
Furls her tired wing and sinks o'erwhelmed to Earth's low sphere.
Before her glancing eye
The clouds of ignorance have rolled away;
She calls the lightning from its throne on high,
And marks the planet's way;
Bids the frail bark o'er Ocean's bosom glide,
And from her mystic cells rolls back the heaving tide.
And in her search sublime,
Measures the sunbeam in its trackless flight;
Earth yields her secrets, and both space and time
Are subject to her might:
E'en from the unseen air the mysteries flee,
But THOU! Eternal ONE! no searching can find THEE!
THY voice of majesty
Throughout creation's wide expanse is heard;
In the low South-wind's fitful melody,
The music of the bird;
When by the tempest-breath the clouds are riven,
And the loud thunder peals through the deep vault of Heaven.
And in the measured chime
Of low waves dashing on the sunny shore,
The streamlet's flow in the bright southern clime,
The cataract's loud roar,
And the hollow moan of the restless sea,
When the storm-spirit sweeps on pinion swift and free.
And to the human soul,
Speaks not THY still small voice in accents strong?
Bidding Remorse like scorching lava roll
Its fearful tide along;
Blighting and withering all that yet is fair,
As blasting winds that sweep upon the desert air.
And when the burning tears
Of heart-felt penitence before THEE fall,
And from thick gloom and agonizing fears
Ascends the fervent call;
THY voice of mercy bids Hope's angel form
Shine like a beacon-light amid the wild night-storm.
It soothes to calm repose
The fitful quivering of the spirit's lyre,
And falls, as rain-drops o'er the dying rose,
On passion's wasting fire;
It bids us hasten o'er Life's waters home,
As summer breezes call the bird o'er ocean's foam.
* * * * *
Lo! in yon darkened room
Glad angels wait to bear a soul away;
Death waves his pinions, and the fearful tomb
Opes to receive its prey:
Low, dirge-like music stirs the troubled air;
Hushed is each voice, each breath, for THOU, O GOD! art there.
Swift o'er the marble brow
The cold dews gather; oh! what hand shall guide
The trembling spirit on its passage now
To regions yet untried?
Raise the dark veil hung o'er that mystic land,
And light the wanderer's path from time's receding sand?
The starless night of thought
Was lit at Mercy's shrine with purest ray,
And heavenly truth so long, so vainly sought,
Shone forth in its mid-day;
As angels tuned their harps to higher strains,
And rose the star of peace o'er Bethlehem's hallowed plains.
Then the INCARNATE came,
Veiling his God-head in the human form;
Not with the clarion's voice, the trump of fame,
The earthquake and the storm:
He came--the living GOD, creation's King!
Humble, despised, unknown--joy, 'peace on earth' to bring!
Oh' fearful was the hour
When Vengeance poured on his devoted head
The wrath of ages, and stern Death had power
His fiery shafts to shed;
The sun his radiance veiled in midnight gloom,
And woke to life and light the tenants of the tomb.
Mysterious Three in One!
My spirit bows, by matchless love o'erwrought;
Thyself all-knowing yet by all unknown,
Beyond the height of thought!
Justice and Mercy in thy works combine,
As o'er the raging flood the glittering rain-bows shine.
THOU watchest o'er the birth
Of every flower that springs to bloom and die,
The sparrow falls not to the breast of earth
Unnoticed by thine eye;
And suns and systems at thy glance have passed.
As withered leaves are swept before the wintry blast.
And when the voice of Time
Shall chant the death-dirge o'er Earth's ruined fanes;
When the archangel's voice in tones sublime
Shall echo o'er her plains;
Unchanged, unchanging, THOU shalt rise o'er all,
While Nature's face shall rest beneath Oblivion's pall.
MIND OR INSTINCT.
AN INQUIRY CONCERNING THE MANIFESTATION OF MIND BY THE LOWER ORDERS
OF ANIMALS.
'IN some are found
Such teachable and apprehensive parts,
That man's attainments in his own concerns,
Matched with th'expertness of the brutes in their's,
Are ofttimes vanquished and thrown far behind.'
COWPER.
THE cultivation of the intellectual endowments of man has raised
him to such a degree above the other orders of animated existence,
that he claims the exclusive possession of the Thinking Principle;
forgetting, while he surveys the monuments of human intelligence,
that they are but the evidence of his advancement from the savage
state; and that while he remained in that primitive condition he
might be considered, in fact, as many degrees below his present
position in point of mental capacity, as above that of the most
sagacious animals;[1] forgetting also that had he continued in a
state of nature, like some of the tribes of Africa or America,
leaving others to judge of his intelligence from the rude vestiges
of his civilization exclusively, they could scarcely attribute to
him more intellect than they would to the beaver, or even to the ant.
[1] THE term 'Animals' will be confined to orders below Man.
Animals, unlike men, do not improve materially in different
generations, because they generally require no artificial means to
promote their happiness; neither have they the gregarious principle
to the same extent as man; but some of those which have, exhibit the
extraordinary intelligence which will presently be cited.
The object of this inquiry is to ascertain, by the examination of
facts, whether the principle called INSTINCT manifests the same
intellectual qualities as MIND, without having any reference to
its _moral_ attributes. It is not claimed that each one possesses
that rare combination of mental properties which distinguishes
the human species; but merely that there is a similitude in the
intellectual operation of memory, in men and in animals; the same
of abstraction, of imagination, and of reason or judgment, though
possessed among all in different degrees, and under different
modifications.
The word _Instinct_ is employed to designate the exhibitions of
animal nature in their endless varieties. It is a principle which
performs the same office in regulating their conduct, that the mind
of man does in directing his. It is usually defined, an inward
persuasion, a spontaneous impulse, prompting animals to provide
for their safety, and administer to their wants; but in certain
cases the term has been ennobled by the substitution of sagacity,
intelligence, cunning, when the gleamings of intelligence have been
too certain to be misunderstood. The truth is, as of the human mind,
we know nothing of its essence, of its ultimate nature; and our
investigations, as in mind, must be limited to a knowledge of its
properties or qualities.
This inquiry, then, will be confined to the intellectual qualities
of Instinct; and if, from facts carefully examined, it can be
deduced that an animal remembers, we must from necessity concede
to his instinct the quality of memory; or if he exhibit an exact
knowledge of means and their end, by applying the means to effect
the end, we must attribute to his instinct the quality of judging;
and the same of other instinctive operations.
It is important for even a tolerable elucidation of this subject,
to present the utmost number of ways in which the manifestations of
instinct are analogous to the manifestations of mind, as exhibited
by the human race; and in doing this, no apology is deemed necessary
for the introduction of numerous instances from Natural History, and
from common observation.
I. OF THE MEMORY OF THE PRINCIPLE CALLED INSTINCT.
ILLUSTRATIONS.--In autumn, says HUBER, honey has been placed in
a window, where the bees resorted to it in multitudes. It was
removed, and the shutters closed during winter; but when opened
again on the return of Spring, the bees came back, though no
honey remained; undoubtedly they remembered it; therefore an
interval of several weeks did not obliterate the impression they
had received.--_Selections from Em. Nat's, but entitled Buffon's
Nat. Hist., Vide V., 137._
A sailor who had been strolling round Wombwell's menagerie,
loitering here and there to identify some of the animals
with those he had seen in far distant climes, was attracted
by the strange noise of a tiger, who seemed irritated beyond
endurance. Jack sought the keeper, to inquire the cause of so
singular a display of feeling, which became more boisterous
the nearer he approached the animal. The keeper replied that
the behavior of the tiger indicated either that he was vastly
pleased, or annoyed; upon this the sailor again approached the
den, and after gazing at the animal a few moments, during which
he became frantic with seeming rage, discovered him to be the
same animal brought to England under the special care of the
weather-beaten tar. Jack was now as delighted as it appeared the
tiger was in recognizing his old friend, and he desired to enter
the den, for the purpose as he said of 'shaking a fist' with
the beautiful animal. The iron door was opened, and Jack was
permitted to enter. The affection of the animal was now shown
by caressing and licking the pleased sailor, whom he seemed to
welcome with the heartiest satisfaction; and when the honest
tar left the den, the anguish of the creature appeared almost
insupportable.--_London Journal. Buff., II., 88, a like case._
A dog one afternoon was passing through a field near Dartmouth,
England, where a washerwoman had hung her linen to dry. He
stopped and surveyed one particular shirt with attention; then
seizing it, he dragged it away through the dirt to his master,
whose shirt it proved to be.--_Buff., I., 290._
Warren Hastings, Governor-General of India, having dismissed the
keeper of one of his elephants, the animal refused obedience
to any other, and finally escaped to the wild herd. Ten years
afterward the old keeper of the elephant found him in a keddah,
and he instantly submitted himself to him.--_Buff., N. H., II.,
190._
We need seek no clearer evidence of memory in its purest sense, than
these instances afford. They are the strong arguments of fact, and
need but a momentary examination. Instances however can be found,
in which the memory of instinct is even more powerful and retentive
than the memory of mind. The homeward flight of the carrier-pigeon
is a consecutive remembrance of places; and who, unaided, could
retrace his steps for hundreds of miles, after one outward passage?
Instances of local memory are familiar to all. The fox remembers his
burrow; the bird her nest; the bee its hive; for, if they did not
recall the fact of having occupied these places before, they would
be found as frequently in the burrow or hive of another as their
own; whereas common observation teaches the contrary. The parrot
also, and the jay, have been noted for their memory. The cat and the
pet sheep distinguish their favorite in the family from day to day;
while the dog welcomes the return of his master with manifestations
of remembrance as conclusive as the remembrance of the child or the
wife.
Our knowledge of the qualities of instinct is derived from actions
only; of mind, from words and actions. But these qualities can be
inferred as legitimately from the latter, under proper restrictions,
as from both; and if we should investigate the properties of mind
from the actions of men exclusively, we could not arrive at them
with any greater certainty than we can at the properties of instinct.
From the above illustrations, (if they were needed,) the conclusion
is irresistible, that Instinct remembers; and all the phenomena of
this memory are identical, both in analysis and synthesis, with
the phenomena of memory in the human mind. No shade of distinction
can be taken, except it be in the degree of strength; and on these
terms, while the mass of animals would fall below man, some would
rise above him.
II. OF THE PROCESS OF ABSTRACTION BY INSTINCT.
ILLUSTRATIONS.--The beavers begin to assemble in the month of
June or July, in order to form a society, which is to continue
for the greatest part of the year. They arrive in numbers
from every side, and presently form a company of two or three
hundred. The place of meeting is commonly the place where they
fix their abode, and this is always by the side of some lake or
river; if it be a running stream, which is subject to floods and
falls, they then set about building a dam, or pier that crosses
the river, so as to form a dead water in that part which lies
above and below. This dam or pier is often four-score or an
hundred feet long, and ten or twelve feet thick at the base:
the part of the river over which this dam is usually built,
is where it is the most shallow, and where some great tree is
found growing by the side of the stream. This they pitch upon
as proper for making the principal part in their building; and
though it is often thicker than a man's body, they yet instantly
set about gnawing it down.--_Buff., II., 24._ NOTE.--This is
fallen across the stream. They then sharpen stakes, and fix them
in the bed of the stream, the upper end resting against the tree.
The fox usually digs his hole in the edge of a wood, or the side
of a bank; and in the vicinity of a farm-house. He chooses a dry
and secluded spot, preferring a sandy soil.
The tigress, to oppose the daring invaders of her den, braves
every danger. On such occasions she pursues the spoiler with
an enmity the most inveterate; and he, contented to lose a
part in order to save a part, is frequently obliged to drop
one of her cubs. With this she immediately returns to her den,
and again pursues him; he then drops another; and by the time
she has returned with that, he generally escapes with the
remainder.--_Buff., II., 81._
By the process of abstraction, facts are separated from their
original relations, and some of them contemplated apart from the
rest. For example: a stream is considered with reference to its
width, depth, and rapidity, or rather each property in its turn. In
the familiar instance of the fox, we invariably find his burrow in
a dry and secluded place; and in a sandy or earthy soil, unless it
be in natural crevices. From these facts the inference necessarily
results, that he had examined the location with reference to each
of these requisites separately; unless instinct can entertain
two questions at the same instant, which is above the power of
mind; otherwise, his habitation being destitute of one of these
essentials, would be useless, and the poor fox be doomed to toil
in blind experiment, until chance directed him to a place which
combined these and numerous other elements of convenience which the
dainty creature might desire, and of which we can have no knowledge.
The beaver, in selecting a site for his dam, furnishes a stronger
and more interesting specimen of the abstract reasoning of instinct.
The depth, width, and rapidity of the stream; banks sufficiently
high to prevent an overflow; the tree upon its edge; the vicinity of
food, and materials for their work; all these are to be considered
in turn; and if any of these requisites are deficient, a new place
must be sought. If instinct proceeded at random, the multitude
of disadvantages would preclude success; their labors might be
cast away upon a stream too deep and rapid, or too wide, or in
a barren region. But it is asserted that instinct spontaneously
impels all animals to the end they seek; than which nothing can be
more irrational. It is endowing them with a principle which leads
unerringly to results that man might fail to ascertain by the aid
of science. It is in effect endowing them with a principle higher
than mind; partaking something of DEITY itself. When man's attention
has been arrested by their ingenuity or intelligence, he has passed
them over as the workings of mysterious instinct; and indifference
has led him into such absurdities. We have seen, on the authority
of naturalists, that the beaver's dam is always found at a place
which furnishes certain natural advantages. Let us now institute a
comparison. A student wishes to study Algebra; we next see him with
a slate, algebra, and pencil in hand. The three, with reference to
the end designed, make but one object or means; and the inference is
natural, that he had abstractly considered the office and necessity
of each. On the other hand, the beavers announce their intention
of building a dam, by assembling in June and forming a company. We
next see them cutting a tree to fall across the creek. The tree, and
the width, depth, and nature of the bed of the stream, make but one
object or means, as in the other case; and the inference is equally
natural and necessary, that they had abstractly considered these
elements of fitness, before they selected this particular site, in
preference to another.
Comparison is also involved in this selection of a place; and in the
execution of the work, reasoning upon the relations of things, as
distinguished from a consecutive consideration of their properties.
Figure, motion, rest, space, and number are abstract terms. A
case in number only has been referred to. It would be a singular
supposition, that the dam did not know the number of her offspring,
if the proof, from the well-known habits of the tigress, could not
be furnished.
Again: the eagle builds her nest on the most rugged cliff, and in
a region scarcely inhabited by man, her only formidable enemy.
She might find a lofty cliff, with the plains below teeming with
population, or an uninhabited region without a cliff; neither
of which would answer; and to determine whether a given place
combined these requisites of safety, she must consider it with
reference to each of these properties separately; which would be
the simple process of abstraction. The arrangement of objects into
genera and species being a higher process, and the useful result
of abstraction, the inquiry might be extended to ascertain, if
possible, whether animals ever exhibit such classification in
practice.
It is a matter of common observation, that the fox in his excursion
will run through a flock of sheep, among cattle, or swine, or birds;
but the human species, of whatever sex or age, and dogs, of whatever
size or variety, he never approaches; and if he suddenly encounters
either, he turns with alarm. By this it appears that he attributes
hostility of feeling to the human family; and a disposition not very
amiable to the canine species, his hereditary enemy. But horses,
sheep, and oxen he considers inoffensive, and trusts himself freely
among them.
Judging from actions, (to which we are confined,) the manifestations
of instinct in the cases cited, are exactly analogous to the
manifestations of mind, under similar circumstances; and had man
exhibited such conduct, we should without hesitation pronounce
it the consequence of abstract consideration. Now, since we know
nothing of the ultimate nature of mind, or of instinct, and hence
cannot establish a fundamental distinction between them; and since
the manifestations of both are alike, in view of similar premises;
it follows, that we can no more deny the quality of abstraction to
one than to the other.
III. OF THE IMAGINATION OF THE PRINCIPLE CALLED INSTINCT.
IMAGINATION is regarded as one of the highest of the mental
faculties; but since it is manifested in thought rather than in
actions, an additional difficulty is presented of discovering the
exhibitions of this quality, by animals. It will therefore be a
doubtful undertaking, to furnish proof that instinct is endued with
this creative ability 'to fabricate images of things that have no
existence;' and an approximation only can be expected.
The young dog exhibits his native fierceness while shaking a stick;
does he not for the time raise an image of some other animal with
whose properties he invests it? The same of a cat, while in the
act of crouching and springing to seize a pebble. On a kindred
principle, the mere boy rides his willow pony, and the infant Miss
hushes her doll to sleep.
The proximate causes of playfulness in youth are the pictures raised
in the mind by the fancy or imagination. This faculty, says Kaimes,
'is the great instrument of recreation.' The mind is exhilarated by
the cheerfulness with which surrounding objects have been invested
by its touch; and the sports of childhood, together with the gayety
of youth, are mainly referable to its activity. It is not uncommon
to discover the boy and his spaniel at play with a ball as a
go-between. The beautiful animal, with open mouth, pricked up ear,
and eyes sparkling with vivacity, now eagerly watches every motion
of the ball, and of his play-mate, and now seeks for either or both,
in their hiding-place. It would be difficult to determine from
their actions, which exhibited the quickest perception, the most
ingenuity, or the most ardent relish for the amusement. A similar
playfulness is seen in most young animals. The manifestations are
alike in both; hence the causes cannot be very diverse.