When we consult authorities on this subject, and particularly Dr.

Johnson's dictionary, we find that he has given eleven different

significations of the term _reason_, which he defines to be "the power

by which man _deduces_ one proposition from another, or proceeds from

premises to consequences." There is, however, much ambiguity in this

statement; and it would perhaps be impossible, in reasoning concerning

things, (which is to be considered as the most perfect example of this

process,) to adduce an instance, in which one proposition is strictly

_deduced_ from another.

Every proposition is distinct, and independent: numbers, which are

definite, may be added together, and the sum-total exhibited, or a

lesser number subtracted from a greater, and the remainder shown. It is

difficult to say what is really meant by the words "deduces one

proposition from another." On examination, it will be found that every

simple proposition contains some fact or dictum, something set up or

laid down, _aliquid propositum_; and that nothing can be _deduced_ from

it, more than the meaning which the words constituting such proposition

legitimately convey: indeed, it must be evident, that any deduction from

a simple proposition would destroy its force. The sum of our knowledge

consists of individual facts, which are in themselves distinct, as much

as a flock of sheep is the aggregate of the different animals that

compose it; and it is only a misapplication of language, to affirm that

we are able to deduce one proposition from another. One proposition may

tend to explain or illustrate another; but every proposition, correctly

so termed, relates only to itself.

The other mode by which we reason, is on abstract or general terms,

which are not the representatives of individual substances, or the

objects of our perceptions; but the names of classes or collections, or

of various hypotheses included or designated by a single name. The

difficulties which environ this latter mode of reasoning become

immediately evident, and satisfactorily account for the hostility and

confusion it has engendered, and for the tardy advancement of real

knowledge by this medium. The individual objects in nature can be

investigated by observation and experiment, and may be sufficiently

estimated; but multitudes of objects arbitrarily classed, or imaginary

qualities comprehended by a single name, do not admit of the same

analysis by the senses, and we are only enabled to ascertain their real

meaning in the two ways that have been pointed out,--by authority,

which, to be strictly such, ought to be invariable,--or by etymology,

which will demonstrate their original signification, and the reasons

which imposed them. Thus when we reason concerning charity, benevolence,

humanity, and liberty, terms certainly of the highest importance, but

each of which involves a variety of circumstances, and the real

signification of which, is to this moment differently interpreted, we

are impeded in the process, and fail in our estimate, because the

dimensions are uncertain. That which one man considers a charitable

donation, another views as the means which encourage idleness, and vice,

and a third person is perhaps induced to question the motive, by

attributing the gift to pride and ostentation. These general terms

seldom admit the precision of numbers, but are characterised as to their

proportions by expressions equally general and indefinite: as, much,

more, and most, to denote their augmentation; and, little, less, least,

to define their diminution. These general but indefinite degrees of

comparison, as they are termed, once defined the temperature of our

atmosphere, until a scale was discovered to mark its increment and

diminution by the accuracy of numbers. Great as may be the convenience

of general terms, both for abbreviation and dispatch, they are

notwithstanding liable to considerable suspicion, and are the frequent

sources of error and misapprehension. It has been principally for this

reason, that in proportion to the advancement of the physical sciences,

the study of scholastic metaphysic has been deservedly neglected.

FOOTNOTE:

[17] Time, or the admeasurement of the successive order of our

perceptions, embraces a wide area of definition; and it is perhaps

impossible, in a few words, to circumscribe the range of its meaning.

The sagacity of the human intellect, although by very slow gradations,

has accumulated the wonderful mass of knowledge we now possess on this

subject: and the investigations which have been made into the faculties

of animals, justify the conclusion that its comprehension is limited to

man. It would be highly interesting to trace the origin and progress of

our information, concerning the nature of time; but a short note to a

compressed essay, does not admit of such examination. However, it

appears evident, that the striking and regular phenomena of nature have

constituted some of our most important distinctions. Thus, the ebbing

and flowing of the tide have formed a very early notation; and we still

retain in our language the traces of its application in Whitsun_tide_,

Shrove_tide_, Allhallow_tide_, &c. The great divisions of time are well

understood; as day, from dawn; month, from moon; year, Anglo-Saxon gear,

from gyrdan, the girth (of the zodiac). A moderate knowledge of the

cognate languages of the north, would readily unravel the origin of all

the terms that have been employed by us and kindred nations, for the

purpose of characterising the succession of our perceptions. All these

subdivisions necessarily imply a comprehension of numbers.

From the experience of the past, man has inferred the _probability_ of

the future; for by natural knowledge, the probability, great as it is,

can only be deduced. The certainty has descended from a higher

authority. Although the grammar of our language has endeavoured to mark

our predictions of the future by certain signs; yet these do not convey

any definite intelligence of that which _is_ to come. In this state of

being, man may receive assurances of ulterior existence, but he cannot

invest his predictions with the certainty of numbers. The signs of Will

and Shall, the utmost boundaries of his future glance, are both verbs in

the present tense, and only signify his immediate intention of

performance, at a time which may _probably_ arrive.

INSTINCT.

It has been endeavoured, in the foregoing pages, to describe the

intellectual capacities of the human being, and to account for his

superiority, from the peculiarity of his structure, and the extended

faculties it has conferred. It has also been attempted to maintain, that

man, thus gifted, is the architect of his own mind; with the hopeful

expectation, that it may tend to the improvement of his culture, but

more especially, to exhibit him as the creature of responsibility, in

consequence of his ampler endowments: "for unto whomsoever much is

given, of him shall be much required."

The mental phenomena which animals display is a subject of equal

curiosity and interest; but it is to be lamented that they have not yet

been sufficiently observed, or faithfully collected. Their anatomy has

been minutely and diligently investigated, and the functions which have

resulted from the peculiarity of their structure, in many instances,

have been industriously developed; but an enumeration of their

intellectual bounties, and faculties of improvement, are still wanting

to complete their history. As we are able to trace the progress of mind,

in the infant, from its feeble glimmerings to its bright effulgence in

the maturity of man; so we can contemplate the inherent wisdom that

directs the animal tribe:--a liberal portion, sufficient for their

individual protection, and for the continuance of their race. This

definite allotment of mental craft to animals has rendered them

stationary, while man has no barriers opposed to his improvement; but,

under the fostering auxiliaries of a free soil, wholesome instruction,

and intellectual labour, continually advances. However vast his present

treasure may appear, its accumulation may be safely predicted; and it is

to be expected, or at least, it may be hoped, that his career in moral

practice will be commensurate with his progress in science.

The human intellect, or the capacity of man for the accumulation of

knowledge, has enabled him, in a great degree, to render himself the

master of the animal creation; and more especially over those which

dwell on the soil he inhabits or range in the atmosphere he respires:

his authority or conciliation has little extended to the tenants of the

deep. Many of the larger quadrupeds he has subdued, and thereby has

become enabled to substitute the exertion of their muscles to relieve

the toil and fatigue of his own: of the swifter, he has coerced the

speed, for the anticipation of his wishes: the breed of many he has

extensively multiplied, to prey on their flesh, or to become nourished

by their secretions: his knowledge has been directed to the physical

improvements of their race, and he has also relieved them from many

infirmities and diseases, consequent on their domestication and labour.

The wonderful construction of animals is a fit subject for the serious

contemplation of man: but the most striking and important lesson which

it impresses, is the adaptation of their organs to the purposes of their

destination, or the means they possess for the discharge of the offices

they perform. This construction is throughout an exemplification of that

which has been defined reason; and that it is perfect, may be concluded

from its being the work of the Creator. It has been already observed,

that the perceptive organs of many animals, especially the eye, the ear,

and the smell, are more acute and vigorous, than those in the human

subject: with us, the olfactory organ is considered as the lowest sense,

but in some animals it appears to be the most important; and even in

man, under certain privations[18], the smell has become a test of the

nicest discriminations: indeed, so far as the senses are concerned as

the importers of knowledge, animals appear to be gifted beyond our own

species. Their memory is also more perfect, as might be expected, from

the exquisite sensibility of their perceptive organs. The accuracy with

which they recognise persons and places is in many instances really

astonishing; and the certainty with which they retrace the most

intricate paths, is a proof of the excellence of their local

recollection, and of the attention they are capable of bestowing on the

objects of their perceptions. This enduring attention is perhaps to be

accounted for from their want of reflection, which so frequently diverts

man from dwelling on the objects of his senses. Thus, a cat will

undeviatingly watch the hole through which a mouse is known to pass, far

beyond the time which man can exclusively devote to a subject of

expectation. But here their superiority terminates. Their recollection

is not refreshed, as in man, by the substitution of a name for the

object of perception; much less have they any contrivance to record such

intelligent sound, whereby man can preserve and transmit his

perceptions. Thus whatever individual excellence animals may attain,

they want the means of communicating, and of transmitting to their

successors, and this sufficiently accounts for their stationary

condition, and for the progression of man.

That animals are _incapable of the power_ which has been termed thought

or reflection is most probable. According to the interpretation that has

been given of this faculty, they are deficient of the materials, or of

terms, the representatives of perceptions; consequently of their

abbreviations, and of the contrivances by which a proposition or

sentence is constructed. That they understand some words, is evident;

they know their own names, and, by certain sounds, can be made to stop

or advance, to seize or let go, to rise up or lie down; but the extent

of this intelligence is very limited, and altogether different from the

comprehension of a sentence.

It is not improbable that they dream; and, at such times, the

recollection of objects and scenes may be presented to them in visible

phantasmata; and in the delirium of canine madness, they are observed to

snap at imaginary existences; but this is far below the process that

constitutes reflection, which consists in the capacity of reviewing the

whole of our perceptions; and it has been endeavoured to point out that

this can only be effected through the medium of intelligent sound, or

its visible representative. If we were to contend for their capacity of

reflection, we must, at the same time, acknowledge, that they do not

appear to derive any improvement from the process; and to suppose them

endowed with that which was nugatory, and contributed in no degree to

their advancement, would be an idle and useless hypothesis. When not

employed and directed by man, their lives are principally occupied in

procuring food, and in the propagation of their species; and when their

appetites are satisfied, they repose or sleep: when not guided by

instinct, they seem to act from established habits, or the dictates of

immediate impression. They are capable of considerable acquirements

under the coercive tuition of man, and may be taught a variety of tricks

for his amusement or profit; but they do not appear to comprehend their

utility, or to hold these instructions in any estimation, as they never

practise them when alone. The most accomplished bear would not dance for

his own entertainment; and the learned pig never attempted to become a

school-master to the hogs of his acquaintance.

It has been previously noticed, that in man, and most animals, there

were movements of the highest importance to life, which were directed

by the Author of the universe, and over which they had no immediate

control, termed involuntary motions; so we find, in the tribe of

animals, various mental endowments, especially tending to the

preservation of the individual, and to the succession of the race, which

are not the results of their experience. These have been comprehended

under a general term, and denominated instinct. By instinct, is meant

the display of contrivance and wisdom by animals, which tends to

preserve them as individuals, and to maintain their succession; an

intellectual exercise so perfect, that human philosophy has not

pretended to improve; so unvaried, that the excellence of its

performance cannot be exceeded, and is never diminished; a clearness of

execution, that "leaves no rubs and botches in the work," but which, it

may be presumed, is not even comprehended by the animal itself, as it

does not possess the organs or capacity to acquire the rudiments of the

science on which its operations proceed. As man, in his healthy state,

is little conscious of his involuntary motions, so I should presume that

animals possess but a feeble consciousness of their instinctive

achievements. This may be a subject for subtle disputants to decide; but

it appears certain, during the exercise of instinct, that their volition

must be suspended. When sufficient observation has collected the

intuitive wisdom displayed by animals, we shall then be able to _define_

what is precisely meant by instinct; and, which is of much greater

importance, to furnish their intellectual history, of which the

definition is an abbreviation. One of the most useful contrivances of

language, is its abbreviation for the purposes of dispatch; and a

definition implies the fewest words into which its history can be

compressed, for perfect discrimination and identity of character.

Without disputing about a term, it may be noticed, that young ducks

hatched by a hen, immediately on their developement, and often with a

part of the shell still attached to them, make directly for the water;

while the hen, who has performed the office of a mother, screams with

alarm for the consequences. A she-cat, the first time she brings forth

her young, proceeds to secure the umbilical cord of each kitten, with

the caution of an experienced midwife. In both these instances,

experience cannot be adduced to account for the performance. When the

admirable texture of a spider's web is contemplated; will it be

contended that this elaboration is the result of mathematical knowledge

_acquired_ by the spider? Have the dwellings of the beaver, and the

construction of the honey-comb, their solution in the geometrical

attainments of the fabricators? The examples which have been enumerated,

(and they are only a few, among multitudes,) can only be accounted for,

by maintaining, that these wonderful phenomena proceed from a degree of

knowledge acquired by these animals, and are the result of such

attainment; or that they are independently furnished with such

propensities by the Creator. If it can be demonstrated that the animals

displaying the greatest acts of intelligence, are unable to acquire the

rudiments of the arts they practise, and cannot comprehend the wisdom

they execute, there will remain but one conclusion--that they are the

immediate endowments of God. Man has his instincts, although they are

few, and these appear to fade as his reason advances; woman enjoys a

more bountiful supply. The intellectual difference of the sexes is

strongly pronounced: the female is more the creature of perception: man,

of reflection:--the duties imposed on her, require less of thought and

volition; and when she resembles man by their possession and exercise,

she becomes less amiable and attractive. But this is abundantly

compensated by the intenseness and constancy of her affections.

The gift of instinct to animals, does not exclude them from acquiring

knowledge by experience; for their minds are capable of improvement,

according to the extent of their capacities, and the intellectual organs

with which they are furnished. The instinct which is allotted to them is

mental possession which they could not have acquired, from the limited

nature of their faculties. All their instincts are processes of the

purest reasoning, but they do not originate from themselves; they are

not, as in man, the elaboration of thought, the contrivance founded on

the estimate of knowledge; but a boon,--an endowment, by which

experience is anticipated, and wisdom matured without its progress and

accumulation. Animals form an estimate of that which they can

accomplish: a horse will not voluntarily attempt a leap he cannot clear;

but his admeasurement is instituted solely by his eye: he is deficient

of the organ which man possesses;--nor can he measure by steps or paces,

as he is unable to numerate. An old hound will spare himself much

fatigue in the chace, by knowing, from experience, the doubles of the

hare. As man cannot reason independently of knowledge, nor beyond the

extent of his acquirements, neither can animals display this faculty

further than they possess the means.

The instinctive bounty of intellect to animals, of course, renders them

stationary as a community; as instinct implies a definite portion of

intuitive sagacity, wisdom, or reason, commensurate to their wants and

destination. The early manifestation of instinctive wisdom, is the best

reply to those philosophers who have argued against its existence; for

in a multitude of instances it is exhibited, anterior to the possibility

of experience. Man, although gifted with superior capacities, and

susceptible of higher attainments, does not, from the paucity of his

instincts, arrive during many years at the same maturity both of mind

and body, which most animals display within the space of a few weeks; so

necessary and important is the protracted period of infancy to the

edifice and destination of the human mind.

FOOTNOTE:

[18] Notwithstanding we cannot sufficiently estimate the perfection of

the senses in animals, yet in some instances we are enabled to observe,

in our own species, the importance which a lower sense acquires, in

consequence of the privation of those which are deservedly considered

the more noble. A singular case of this nature occurred in Scotland, the

particulars of which have been published by Mr. James Wardrop an eminent

surgeon and oculist, 4to. London, 1813. This person, James Mitchel, was

born, very nearly blind and deaf. Although he was not deprived of every

glimmering and vibration, yet he was incapable of discerning an object,

or hearing an articulate sound; consequently to him the visible world

was annihilated. A ray of light might serve to delight him as a toy, but

it did not enable him to have the visible perception of any

substance:--his nerves, indeed, appeared to be agitated by the

concussion of sound, yet it was wholly impossible to lodge in his ear

the missile of a word. Being thus deprived of the two nobler senses, his

_mind_ was constituted of the perceptions he acquired by the organs of

touch, smell, and taste. His attention was enduring, and his curiosity

eager, far beyond those of any animal. Mr. Wardrop observes that "his

organs of touch, of smell, and of taste, had all acquired a

preternatural degree of acuteness, and appeared to have supplied, in an

astonishing manner, the deficiencies in the senses of seeing and

hearing. By those of touch and smell, in particular, he was in the habit

of examining every thing within his reach. Large objects, such as the

furniture of the room, he felt over with his fingers, whilst those which

were more minute, and which excited more of his interest, he applied to

his teeth, or touched with the point of his tongue. In exercising the

sense of touch, it was interesting to notice the delicate and precise

manner by which he applied the extremities of his fingers, and with what

ease and flexibility he would insinuate the point of his tongue into all

the inequalities of the body under his examination.

"But there were many substances which he not only touched, but smelled

during his examination.

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