'In formicâ non modo sensus sed etiam mens, ratio, memoria.'--CIC.
'Si quis comparet onera corporibus earum (formicarum) fateatur nullis
portione. Vires esse majores. Gerunt ea morsu; majora aversæ postremio
pedibus moliuntur, humeris obnoxæ. Est iis Reip ratio memoria cura.
Semima arrosa condunt vie rursus in fruges exeant e terra. Majora
ad introitum (cavernæ) dividunt Madefacta imbre proferunt atque
siccant.'--PLINY: lib. XI., cap. 30.
Many birds and other animals, BUFFON informs us, station a
watch, while they are feeding in the fields. Whenever marmots venture
abroad, one is placed as a sentinel, sitting on an elevated rock,
while the others amuse themselves in the fields below, or are engaged
in cutting grass and making it into hay for their future convenience;
and no sooner does their trusty sentinel perceive a man, an eagle, a
dog, or any other enemy approaching, than he gives notice to the rest
by a kind of whistle, and is himself the last that takes refuge in the
cell. It is asserted that when their hay is made, one of them lies upon
its back, permits the hay to be heaped between its paws, keeping them
upright to make greater room, and in this manner remaining still upon
its back, is dragged by the tail, hay and all, to their common retreat.
These instances could be multiplied indefinitely; but more than
sufficient have been cited. They prove in the first place, without need
of argument, that animals have a language by which they apprehend each
other. Concert of action and division of labor would be impossible
without it. They also exhibit the exercise of memory and abstraction;
and it now remains to ascertain whether their conduct was the result of
reason.
If a person should take a friend whose arm had been fractured to a
skilful surgeon who had before cured him of a similar wound, we should
infer the following course of reasoning: First, a comparison of facts,
to discover whether the injury in question was like the one he had
received; the ability of this surgeon over others in such cases; and
the presumption that the same skill and remedies will again produce
the same effects. These are the most obvious points. The dog, in the
cited case, had once been healed of a broken limb by a surgeon; and
having found a mate in a like situation, took him also to the same
surgeon. It is evident that his conduct was as wise as the man's. The
facts and actions in the two cases are parallel; and having seen that
animals obtain a perception of objects by the same agencies that man
does, it only remains to ascertain whether the intermediate reasoning
process between perception and action were essentially the same. Now,
we cannot prove directly that the mind of another passes through any
process whatever; because the proof of any process of our own mind
is consciousness, which cannot go beyond us; but we can infer the
train of reasoning in a given case with great correctness, taking
self-knowledge as a basis; and the similarity of conduct in another,
in view of premises, with what our own would have been. This is the
chief criterion by which much of our daily conduct is regulated, and
is the most substantial proof that can be reached. Hence, we can infer
with just as much certainty that the instinct of the dog passed through
the process mentioned, as that the mind of the man did in the case
supposed. We can also infer it with as much truth as that instinct is
susceptible of the process of memory, since the proof in both cases is
drawn from facts, and on the same principles.
Again: The beaver's dam is constructed at the very place a skilful
engineer would have selected for a similar purpose. This choice of one
place before another is necessarily founded on comparison, which is
a deliberative reasoning process. It is therefore inconsistent with
an impulse, which seems to be the action suggested, by instantaneous
perception and reasoning; a single, inflexible propulsion in one
direction; without a careful choice, and without deliberation: hence
the term impulsive cannot be applied to a large proportion of the
actions of animals; and having no reason for supposing the impulses of
animals supernatural, or unlike human impulses, the term itself should
be abandoned as vague and unmeaning. Gnawing the large tree upon the
inner side, that it might fall directly across the stream, also rises
above the utmost that we can understand by an inward persuasion; for
it is the incipient step, and has full relation to the subsequent work
of erecting a pier. We have seen that while one part are cutting down
the tree, another part go up the stream, cut smaller trees for stakes,
and draw them to the water's edge; while still a third division go in
quest of clay to prepare as a mortar. This completeness of plan, and
combination of means to execute it, is wholly inconsistent with the
common explanation of instinctive operations. Such exhibitions, as we
have already remarked, are simply the workings of a certain principle
they possess; performing for them the same office that mind does
for man; and the true direction of inquiry is to the nature of its
qualities. The actions themselves exhibit comparison, a knowledge of
the adaptation of means to an end, the combination of these means in
regular detail to effect the end, and the still higher intelligence
of future cause and effect, as evinced by the enlargement of the
water passage with the rise of the stream. These actions, then, being
ascertained to be uniformly the same in a great variety of cases, and
manifesting the operation of an intelligent principle in every act; and
being such as in man would have been in pursuance of the processes of
reason mentioned; we are clearly directed to the inference (indeed no
other rational one _can_ be made) that they compared the advantages of
different places, to enable them to select the best, having reference
to the construction of a dam; that they reasoned out the plan of this
dam and the adaptation of certain materials to its erection; that
they reflected upon the need of its convexity, the better to resist
the pressure of the stream, should it be rapid; that they considered
the advantages of a division of labor to expedite the work; that they
understood from experience, or arrived at the conclusion by reason,
that it was safer to discharge the surplus water at one opening well
guarded, than over the continuous edge of the dam; and finally they
had in view the uses and purpose of this dam from the beginning; and
the reasoning preparatory to each successive step was as exact and
efficient, with reference to the end designed and the means to be
employed, as _man's_ could have been; and was conducted in much, if not
exactly, the same manner; because we can conceive of but one way in
which an intelligent principle thinks.
To learn, we must derive an impression of the object or event by
the senses; and then interpret its meaning by a process of the
understanding. The domestic animals may be taught a variety of
performances, which if done by man we should not hesitate to pronounce
the result of reasoning. Ravens have been taught to sing a regular
piece, involving to a certain extent the same kind of apprehension,
as in instructing a child in music.[A] The parrot may be taught to
speak. Falcons have been learned to hunt, under the influence of
motives; a favorite dish being the reward of skilful services. The
elephant, the camel, and the horse, in adapting themselves to the wants
of man as beasts of burden, give constant proofs of intelligence and
deliberation. Some of the most stupid animals apparently, have been
taught a variety of feats under the stimulus of rewards, which raise
our astonishment at their shrewdness and ingenuity. Imitation, if
carefully considered, will be found impossible without the aid of a
thinking principle. We know, indeed, very little of any species but
our own. Their language is as vague to us as the guttural tongue of
the Indian; their movements are usually unmeaning, and all but their
general necessities, unknown; we are profoundly ignorant of every
thing but the most general manifestations of animal life; and at the
same time it must be admitted that they exhibit more intelligence in
adapting themselves to, and understanding us, than we do in suiting our
conduct to their apprehension.
[Footnote A: SOME animals are self-taught. The mocking-bird
whistles for the dog; Cæsar starts up and runs to meet his master. He
squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about with hanging
wings and bristling feathers, clucking to protect her injured brood.
The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking of the
passing wheel-barrow, follow with great truth and rapidity. He repeats
the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable length, fully
and faithfully. He runs over the quiverings of the Canary and the
clear whistlings of the Virginia nightingale, or red-bird, with such
superior execution and effect, that the mortified songsters feel their
own inferiority, and become silent, while he seems to triumph in their
defeat by redoubling his exertions.--WILSON.]
Many animals provide magazines, on which to subsist during the winter.
This appears to be the result of a long process of reasoning; of which
the impossibility of obtaining supplies during such period, the amount
necessary, the manner of bestowing it, and the kind of provision which
is not perishable, may be the most obvious. If all these points were
not heeded, the consequence would be fatal. To satisfy present hunger,
a simple impulse might be sufficient; but to anticipate distant wants,
the exercise of an intelligent principle is requisite. The ant, the
bee, the squirrel, the rat, and the beaver, are distinguished instances
of this forethought.
If the argument of PALEY is sound, that contrivance forms
design, and from design we infer intelligence, it applies with emphasis
to all constructed animal habitations. The nests of birds, the cells
of the bee, the spider's web, the mound of the ant, and the hills of
the termites, may be cited. Contrivance and construction seem to be
impossible without the constant exercise of a reflecting principle;
while economy of labor and time indicates the correctness with which
this principle directs the conduct.
Again: If the sentinel of a small party should discover an enemy
approaching, he would know, should they reach the encampment, that his
companions would be captured; but if he apprized them of the peril,
they might escape. This is simply ascertaining the relation of cause
and effect; on such conclusions he alarms his mates, and they retreat.
We know that many animals not only act the same in view of similar
premises, but deliberately prepare for the emergency, like a garrison,
by placing sentinels on the watch: now, since their actions are
uniformly the same in a great variety of cases, and exactly analogous
to the actions of men under similar motives, the same inference
results; that such actions in both cases were caused by a reflecting or
reasoning principle; and that this principle must perform its functions
in nearly if not exactly the same manner, in men and in different
animals, to produce such similar conduct. As instances, parrots, jays,
crows, ants, marmots, and the chamois, may be referred to.
The ancients attributed intelligence, in its purest sense, to many
animals, especially to the elephant and the horse. In one of the
passages quoted, PLINY, the naturalist, after describing
the ingenious method of the ants, in 'shoving with their shoulders'
the larger bits of grain, says: 'There is in them in every deed,
reason, memory, and care;' the expression breaks out from him like
an irresistible conviction. VIRGIL also observes that they
are 'mindful of the approaching winter;' and he refers to their
order, and division of labor. If inquiry should be directed to that
industry which accumulates not only beyond present, but even future
necessities, it could be accounted for on no other supposition, than as
a consequence of reasoning upon the necessity of preparing for the day
of need.
Let us turn for a moment to the fables of ÆSOP. It is
remarkable that these first attempts at moral philosophy should have
come down to us with such freshness as to be almost without the marks
of antiquity; and yet one of their most interesting features is the
correctness, so far as we know, with which animals have been invested
with their natural characteristics. We still ask
'Astuta ingenuum vulpes imitata leonem?'
and are yet inclined to charge the raven with vanity for being cheated
of her meat, as represented in the fable, by the flattery of the fox.
We also admire the closing reproof: [Greek: Echeis korax apanta, nous
de ge leipei]. The artifice of the creature, from his well-known
habits, sits upon him with peculiar fitness; and there is nothing
very incongruous in allowing him to speak it out. This incites an
inquiry into the nature of cunning and artifice, by which animals
evade their enemies or take their prey. The fox, for example, obtains
a knowledge of external things by the same agencies that man does; and
makes a ready and skilful use of such perceptions to obtain some end.
When pursued, he frequently runs in the bed of some shallow creek,
to conceal every trace of his scent and footsteps; or runs back upon
his own track for some distance, and then branches off, to puzzle his
pursuers. He evidently knows the means by which he is followed, namely,
his scent or foot-prints, and he devises a plan to render them both
useless. Much might be said of the artifices of different animals, to
decoy and ensnare their prey. Without the aid of reason it would be
utterly impossible to form such plans; and beside, from these very
stratagems we infer intelligence, and intelligence is of course an
intellectual emanation.
Much also might be said of the elephant: indeed, his history alone
would furnish sufficient facts to elucidate the whole subject; but the
unexpected length of this article prevents the insertion of only a few
notices. It is said that if he has been ensnared and escapes, he is
afterward very cautious while in the woods, and breaking a large branch
from a tree with his trunk, he sounds the ground before he treads upon
it, to discover if there are any pits in his passage.[A] He exhibits
the same kind of deliberation while passing a bridge. The Indians make
use of him to carry artillery over mountains. When the oxen, yoked two
and two, endeavor to draw up the mountain the piece of artillery, the
elephant pushes the breech of the gun with his forehead; and at every
effort that he makes he supports the carriage with his knee, which he
places near the wheel.[B] An analysis of these operations would result
in the same inference, that such actions were in consequence of reason.
[Footnote A: BUFF. II., 188.]
[Footnote B: Ibid. II., 185.]
An anecdote of a bird appeared a few months since, bearing the marks
of authenticity. She had built her nest by a stone quarry, and during
incubation was frequently alarmed by the blasting. She soon learned
that the ringing of a bell preceded an explosion, and like the
laborers, at this signal she retreated to a place of security. This
feat having been discovered, some spectators succeeded in deceiving
her a number of times by false alarms. The imposition however was soon
detected; and she did not afterward fly at the sound of the bell,
unless the workmen also retired. If this incident be true, (and there
is nothing improbable in it,) reasoning, and that too of no obtuse
character, is as legibly stamped upon this conduct, as if the brain had
been uncovered, and we had seen, were it possible, with our own eyes
its secret work.
Let us proceed with this inquiry to another point. It is a
well-established principle of philosophy, that all pain and pleasure
are in the mind, including of course the emotions and passions. We know
that animals experience not only physical pleasures and pains, but
passions both pleasant and painful; as attachment, courage, fidelity;
anger, cowardice, and jealousy. Their manifestation of these pleasant
and painful feelings is analogous to the manifestation of the same
feelings by the human species; and it proves that they are endowed with
a principle corresponding to mind, which we have seen is susceptible,
like mind, of such feelings.
Some of the endowments of animals are delicate, even beyond our
comprehension. The bee, for instance, is never caught in a shower; but
by what agencies it arrives at the knowledge of an approaching storm,
we are unable to determine; and therefore we call it pure instinct,
leaving the subject as blind as we found it. The solution, however,
of this question, will probably be found in the superior acuteness
of its senses. We are generally sensible ourselves of a coming rain,
by a change in the atmosphere; then, on the supposition that the bee
has the sense of touch to a very delicate degree, the apparent enigma
will be unravelled. We know also that our own senses convey to us
imperfect knowledge, and that our minds serve to correct and supply
their deficiencies: on the other hand, animals having reasoning powers
of an inferior degree, a superior delicacy of the senses supplies to
some extent the difference. They undoubtedly possess a knowledge of
lesser things beyond the utmost reach of human intellect; while man
possesses knowledge of a higher character, and as far above their
comprehension; leaving degrees of intelligence above us, and below
them, equally remote from each; for there are yet as many subjects of
knowledge in the infinitely small as in the infinitely great. Nature
retains her perfection, whether we descend to the atom or ascend to the
universe; and the analogies of nature go to prove that the animalcule
whose dimensions are below the power of the microscope, has as perfect
an organization, and lives as completely, as man.
Animals seem to be as amply endowed with capacities by the Creator, for
their sphere of existence, as man appears to be for his; and the Deity
as evidently designed their happiness, as man's. He has framed them
after the same great outline, and with no greater difference in this
respect than is consistent with difference of species. He has endued
them with senses, and a principle to take knowledge of the impressions
they were designed to convey; and He has placed the means of happiness
within their reach, as well as given the power to reach them. This much
is self-evident. As to the proof that the principle commonly known as
instinct manifests memory and reason, the arguments employed may be
obscure; but the facts themselves, on reflection, carry conviction to
the mind. To account for these manifestations on any other hypothesis,
would be impossible; and to draw any other inference from the facts
would be equally impossible; and to pronounce all these phenomena the
workings of instinct, a name without a tangible meaning; a designation
that prohibits inquiry, because it pretends to furnish an explanation
of itself; would be to rest for ever in profound ignorance of the whole
subject, when truth might be reached by investigation.
All the intellectual manifestations of mind are treated under four
general divisions. One of them is memory; and all we know of it is,
simply that there is a principle within us that remembers. Animals
likewise have a principle that remembers. If then this principle is a
unit in man, and (by parity of reason) in animals, why does not the
proof of this one quality carry the whole subject? Can it be asserted
that any other principle remembers than the one that reasons? Can any
distinction be taken between the dog's remembrance of his master on
his return, and the remembrance of the wife? One is as absolute as
the other. It is no matter how feeble the endowments of a man may be,
he still possesses mind; its memory may be weak, and its reasoning
power be confined to the most simple processes; but yet the principle
is within him, and as no radical distinction can be made between the
memory of the feeble and the powerful intellect, so none can be made
between the memory of an animal and of a man.
That principle which remembers, abstracts, imagines, and reasons, is
_Mind_.
The principle called _Instinct_ remembers, abstracts, imagines, and
reasons. Therefore, this principle is Mind.
The general deduction follows, that the same thinking intellectual
principle pervades all animated existences; created by the
DEITY, and bestowed in such measures upon the different
species as appeared in His wisdom requisite for the destiny and
happiness of each; thus establishing a scale from man to the lowest
orders of animalculæ; and the successive steps downward from the
man of the highest intellectual range to the man of the lowest, are
no farther than from the latter to the most intelligent animal; and
from him successively to the lowest in the scale of intelligence. All
endued with that wonderful principle, which in man, rising above the
office of providing for physical wants, expends its powers on the
highest subjects of knowledge, though the final cause of this knowledge
is the benefit of himself or his species, while in animals, being
more limited in its range, but perhaps more delicate in some of its
powers, it may be employed, for aught we know, on important subjects
of knowledge, tending to promote their own happiness, of a character
so minute and intricate as to be beyond the utmost appreciation of the
human mind; but yet as essential to their welfare as the most common
principles of philosophy are essential to ours.
There is nothing unnatural in this theory; so far from it, it appears
to be suggested by nature itself. We all have a living existence, and
that existence to sustain and enjoy. The history of animals and men
exhibits so many characteristics in common, and those more powerful
characteristics which we have discovered only in men, merely serving
to establish endowments stronger in degree, without warranting a
fundamental distinction, a scale of intelligence from man to the
most inferior animal, appears to result as naturally as a scale of
intelligence among men, founded on their different characteristics. It
may be said, perhaps, that some of these facts and arguments can be
employed as well to prove a moral as an intellectual nature. Admitting
this for a moment, it is by no means certain that they have not to some
extent a moral sense; although our inquiry has no reference to this
branch of the subject. Their endowments, like those of the tribes of
Africa, neither improve nor degenerate materially; and who is prepared
to say that a Goth or a Hun exhibited a nicer sense of right and wrong
than a tiger or an elephant does? We know nothing concerning their
secret relations. The order and harmony of the bee-hive, the ant-hill,
the families of beavers, and flocks of birds; the apparent recognition
by some animals of the right of property; will perhaps ever remain an
enigma. Animals, on the other hand, of the same species, oppress each
other no more than man does his fellow-man; and those of different
species cannot act with greater ferocity toward each other, than they
can find an example for in human conduct. We tread upon them without
concern, and hunt them down for mere amusement. We prepare them for
slaughter with a degree of indifference to their sufferings and death
that is shocking in the last extreme. Let us not boast too much of our
moral qualities, although the Deity did design that we should subsist
in part upon flesh; although we have the marks of this design upon
us, the same as the bear and the wolf, and have the sanction of the
Scriptures; for although the final cause of this is wise, it is no
excuse for cruelty; and probably an enlightened moral sense would teach
us to abstain entirely from animal food, if we can live without it. We
can no more say that animals were made for our convenience exclusively,
than that the hare was made for the lion, or that the Deity would wish
man should uproot every other species, than that the tiger should.
The simple truth is, we are all alike creatures of the Deity, and
subjects of His will. He designed all existence; He bestowed it; and
His beneficent protection is extended alike over all His works; from
man, the noblest of His creation, to the young ravens, whose cry He has
admonished us He deigns to hear.