[This is the discourse an early report of which was the foundation of
Coleridge's remarks upon instinct, &c., which appear at pp. 160-164.
It was first added as an Appendix to the "Aids to Reflection," in the
edition of 1843; being extracted from an Appendix to Professor Green's
"Vital Dynamics"[168] 1840, where it appears at pp. 88-96. It was
then given without the Professor's introductory words, which we now
add.--ED.]
The following remarks on the import of instinct are those to which
Coleridge refers in the "Aids to Reflection" (p. 177, last
edition[169]) as in accordance with his view of the understanding,
differing in degree from instinct, and in kind from reason; and
whatever merit they possess must have been derived from his
instructive conversation. They are here inserted in the hope that they
may interest the reader in connexion both with the passages of the
preceding discourse, and with the writings of Coleridge on this
important subject.
What is Instinct? As I am not quite of Bonnet's opinion "that
philosophers will in vain torment themselves to define instinct, until
they have spent some time in the head of the animal without actually
being that animal," I shall endeavour to explain the use of the term.
I shall not think it necessary to controvert the opinions which have
been offered on this subject, whether the ancient doctrine of
Descartes, who supposed that animals were mere machines; or the modern
one of Lamarck, who attributes instincts to habits impressed upon the
organs of animals, by the constant efflux of the nervous fluid to
these organs, to which it has been determined in their efforts to
perform certain actions, to which their necessities have given birth.
And it will be here premature to offer any refutation of the opinions
of those who contend for the identity of this faculty with reason, and
maintain that all the actions of animals are the result of invention
and experience;--an opinion maintained with considerable plausibility
by Dr. Darwin.
Perhaps the most ready and certain mode of coming to a conclusion in
this intricate enquiry will be by the apparently circuitous route of
determining first, what we do not mean by the word. Now we certainly
do not mean, in the use of the term, any act of the vital power in the
production or maintenance of an organ: nobody thinks of saying that
the teeth grow by instinct, or that when the muscles are increased in
vigour and size in consequence of exercise, it is from such a cause or
principle. Neither do we attribute instinct to the direct functions of
the organs in providing for the continuance and sustentation of the
whole co-organized body. No one talks of the liver secreting bile, or
of the heart acting for the propulsion of the blood, by instinct.
Some, indeed, have maintained that breathing, even voiding the
excrement and urine, are instinctive operations; but surely these, as
well as the former, are automatic, or at least are the necessary
result of the organization of the parts in and by which the actions
are produced. These instances seem to be, if I may so say, below
instinct. But again, we do not attribute instinct to any actions
preceded by a will conscious of its whole purpose, calculating its
effects, and predetermining its consequences, nor to any exercise of
the intellectual powers, of which the whole scope, aim, and end are
intellectual. In other terms, no man, who values his words, will talk
of the instinct of a Howard, or of the instinctive operations of a
Newton or Leibnitz, in those sublime efforts, which ennoble and cast a
lustre, not less on the individuals than on the whole human race.
To what kind or mode of action shall we then look for the legitimate
application of the term? In answer to this query, we may, I think,
without fear of the consequences, put the following cases as
exemplifying and justifying the use of the term Instinct in an
appropriate sense. First: when there appears an action, not included
either in the mere functions of life, acting within the sphere of its
own organismus; nor yet an action attributable to the intelligent will
or reason; yet, at the same time, not referable to any particular
organ,--we then declare the presence of an Instinct. We might
illustrate this in the instance of a bull-calf butting before he has
horns, in which the action can have no reference to its internal
economy, to the presence of a particular organ, or to an intelligent
will. Secondly, likewise (if it be not indeed included in the first),
we attribute Instinct where the organ is present; if only the act is
equally anterior to all possible experience on the part of the
individual agent, as for instance, when the beaver employs its tail
for the construction of its dwelling; the tailor-bird its bill for the
formation of its pensile habitation; the spider its spinning organ for
fabricating its artfully woven nets, or the viper its poison fang for
its defence. And lastly, generally, where there is an act of the whole
body as one animal, not referable to a will conscious of its purpose,
nor to its mechanism, nor to a habit derived from experience, nor
previous frequent use. Here with most satisfaction, and without doubt
of the propriety of the word, we declare an Instinct; as examples of
which, we may adduce the migratory habits of birds; the social
instincts of the bees, the construction of their habitations, composed
of cells formed with geometrical precision, adapted in capacity to
different orders of the society, and forming storehouses for
containing a supply of provisions;--not to mention similar instances
in wasps, ants, termites; and the endless contrivances for protecting
the future progeny.
But if it be admitted that we have rightly stated the application of
the term, what, we may ask, is contained in the examples adduced, or
what inferences are we to make as to the nature of Instinct itself, as
a source and principle of action? We shall, perhaps, best aid
ourselves in the enquiry by an example, and let us take a very
familiar one of a caterpillar taking its food. The caterpillar seeks
at once the plant which furnishes the appropriate aliment, and this
even as soon as it creeps from the ovum; and the food being taken into
the stomach, the nutritious part is separated from the innutritious,
and is disposed of for the support of the animal. The question then
is, what is contained in this instance of instinct? In the first place
what does the vital power in the stomach do, if we generalize the
account of the process, or express it in its most general terms?
Manifestly it selects and applies appropriate means to an immediate
end, prescribed by the constitution;--first, of the particular organ,
and then of the whole body or organismus. This we have admitted is not
instinct. But what does the caterpillar do? Does it not also select
and apply appropriate means to an immediate end, prescribed by its
particular organization and constitution? But there is something more;
it does this according to circumstances;--and this we call Instinct.
But may there not be still something more involved? What shall we say
of Hüber's humble-bees? A dozen of these were put under a bell glass
along with a comb of about ten silken cocoons, so unequal in height as
not to be capable of standing steadily. To remedy this, two or three
of the humble-bees got upon the comb, stretched themselves over its
edge, and with their heads downwards, fixed their forefeet on the
table on which the comb stood, and so with their hindfeet kept the
comb from falling. When these were weary others took their places. In
this constrained and painful posture, fresh bees relieving their
comrades at intervals, and each working in its turn, did these
affectionate little insects support the comb for nearly three days;
at the end of which time they had prepared sufficient wax to build
pillars with it. And what is still further curious, the first pillars
having got displaced, the bees had again recourse to the same
manœuvre. What then is involved in this case? Evidently the same
selection and appropriation of means to an immediate end as before;
but observe! according to varying circumstances.
And here we are puzzled;--for this becomes Understanding. At least no
naturalist, however predetermined to contrast and oppose Instinct to
Understanding, but ends at last in facts in which he himself can make
out no difference. But are we hence to conclude that the instinct is
the same, and identical with the human understanding? Certainly
not;--though the difference is not in the essential of the definition,
but in an addition to, or modification of, that which is essentially
the same in both. In such cases, namely, as that which we have last
adduced, in which instinct assumes the semblance of understanding, the
act indicative of instinct is not clearly prescribed by the
constitution or laws of the animal's peculiar organization, but arises
out of the constitution and previous circumstances of the animal, and
those habits, wants, and that predetermined sphere of action and
operation which belong to the race, and beyond the limits of which it
does not pass. If this be the case, I may venture to assert that I
have determined an appropriate sense for instinct:----namely, that it
is a Power of selecting and applying appropriate means to an immediate
end, according to circumstances, and the changes of circumstances,
these being variable and varying; but yet so as to be referable to the
general habits, arising out of the constitution and previous
circumstances of the animal considered not as an individual, but as a
race.
We may here, perhaps, most fitly explain the error of those who
contend for the identity of Reason and Instinct, and believe that the
actions of animals are the result of invention and experience. They
have, no doubt, been deceived, in their investigation of Instinct, by
an efficient cause simulating a final cause; and the defect in their
reasoning has arisen in consequence of observing in the instinctive
operations of animals the adaptation of means to a relative end, from
the assumption of a deliberate purpose. To this freedom or choice in
action and purpose, instinct, in any appropriate sense of the word,
cannot apply, and to justify and explain its introduction, we must
have recourse to other and higher faculties than any manifested in the
operations of instinct. It is evident, namely, in turning our
attention to the distinguishing character of human actions, that there
is, as in the inferior animals, a selection and appropriation of means
to ends--but it is (not only according to circumstances, not only
according to varying circumstances, but it is) according to varying
Purposes. But this is an attribute of the intelligent will, and no
longer even mere understanding.
And here let me observe that the difficulty and delicacy of this
investigation are greatly increased by our not considering the
understanding (even our own) in itself, and as it would be were it not
accompanied with, and modified by, the co-operation of the will, the
moral feeling, and that faculty, perhaps best distinguished by the
name of Reason, of determining that which is universal and necessary,
of fixing laws and principles whether speculative or practical, and of
contemplating a final purpose or end. This intelligent will,--having a
self-conscious purpose, under the guidance and light of the reason, by
which its acts are made to bear as a whole upon some end in and for
itself, and to which the understanding is subservient as an organ or
the faculty of selecting and appropriating the means--seems best to
account for that progressiveness of the human race, which so evidently
marks an insurmountable distinction and impassable barrier between man
and the inferior animals; but which would be inexplicable were there
no other difference than in the degree of their intellectual
faculties.
Man doubtless has his instincts, even in common with the inferior
animals, and many of these are the germs of some of the best feelings
of his nature. What, amongst many, might I present as a better
illustration, or more beautiful instance, than the _storgè_ or
maternal instinct? But man's instincts are elevated and ennobled by
the moral ends and purposes of his being. He is not destined to be the
slave of blind impulses, a vessel purposeless, unmeant. He is
constituted by his moral and intelligent will, to be the first freed
being, the master-work and the end of nature; but this freedom and
high office can only co-exist with fealty and devotion to the service
of truth and virtue. And though we may even be permitted to use the
term Instinct, in order to designate those high impulses, which in the
minority of man's rational being, shape his acts unconsciously to
ultimate ends, and which in constituting the very character and
impress of the humanity reveal the guidance of Providence; yet the
convenience of the phrase, and the want of any other distinctive
appellation for an influence _de supra_, working unconsciously in and
on the whole human race, should not induce us to forget that the term
instinct is only strictly applicable to the Adaptive Power, as the
faculty, even in its highest proper form, of selecting and adapting
appropriate means to proximate ends according to varying
circumstances,--a faculty which however, only differs from human
understanding in consequence of the latter being enlightened by
reason,--and that the principles which actuate man as ultimate ends,
and are designed for his conscious possession and guidance, are best
and most properly named Ideas.
[168] 'Vital Dynamics: The Hunterian Oration before the Royal College
of Surgeons in London, 14th February, 1840; by Joseph Henry Green,
F.R.S., Late Professor of Anatomy to the College: Professor of Anatomy
to the Royal Academy: One of the Surgeons to St. Thomas's Hospital.'
8vo. William Pickering, 1840.--ED.
[169] This must have been the 4th edition, 1839, the latest corrected
by the author, and that which supplies our text in the main.
Coleridge's reference is at pp. 166-170 of the present edition.--ED.