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RARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



me more evident than that the beasts are endowed 

 with thought and reason as well as men. The argu- 

 ments are in this case so obvious, that they never escape 

 the most stupid and ignorant.' In fact this is one of 

 the few cases in which the conviction which forces 

 itself upon the stupid and the ignorant, is fortified 

 by the reasonings of the intelligent, and has its 

 foundation deepened by every increase of knowledge." 

 (Huxley's " Hume," p. 104.) From the same 

 volume I must quote another very amusing and 

 suggestive passage. "One of the most curious 

 peculiarities of the dog mind is its inherent snobbish- 

 ness, shown by the regard paid to external respect- 

 ability. The dog who barks furiously at a beggar 

 will let a well-dressed man pass him without opposi- 

 tion. Has he not then a ' generic idea ' of rags and 

 dirt associated with the idea of aversion, and that of 

 sleek broadcloth associated with the idea of liking ? " 

 (Ibid. p. 106.) Probably this trait of canine character 

 has struck most persons who have any dog friends : 

 it is very noticeable what an ineradicable hatred of 

 uniforms dogs show, and very few postmen of any 

 ength of service can be found who will not testify 

 to the doggish detestation which is manifested 

 towards them, however friendly their bearing. In 

 this connection it is interesting to notice how Miss 

 Cobbe finds elevation of character where Professor 

 Huxley finds "snobbishness;" here is her verdict, 

 " A clever dog is one of the best discriminators of 

 character in the world. He distinguishes at a glance 

 a tramp or swell-mobsman from a gentleman, even in 

 the most soiled attire. He has also a keen sense of 

 the relative importance of persons, and never fails to 

 know who is the master of the house." ("False 

 Beasts and True," p. 158.) Although, as all the 

 world knows, Miss Cobbe is an ultra-enthusiastic 

 pleader for the brute-world, the little work just 

 quoted from affords a storehouse of arguments for 

 the existence of reason in brutes ; certainly it is 

 hard to deny them this attribute when we even find 

 them giving way to superstition. " Superstition, 

 or the awe of the unknown, has been treated by some 

 thinkers as the primary germ of religion, and by 

 others, far more justly as its shadow. This shadow 

 certainly falls on the dog no less than on man. 

 The bravest dog will continually show signs of terror 

 at the sight of an object which he does not under- 

 stand, such as the skin of a dead animal, the snake of 

 a hookah, a pair of bellows, or a rattle. That the 

 brute fancies there is something uncanny and preter- 

 natural about such things, is apparent from his 

 behaviour, which in a real case of clanger is 

 aggressively daring, and in that of imaginary peril 

 abjectly timorous." (Ibid. p. 146.) Turn we to Mr. 

 Darwin, his opinion is very clear, and will have 

 with many the weight of a decision. "Of all the 

 faculties of the human mind," he says, "it will, 

 I presume, be admitted that reason stands at 

 the summit. Only a few persons now dispute that 

 animals possess some power of reasoning. Animals 

 may constantly be seen to pause, deliberate, and re- 

 solve. It is a significant fact that the more the habits 

 of any particular animal are studied by a naturalist, 

 the more he attributes to reason, and the less to un- 

 learnt instincts." (" Descent of Man," 2nd ed. p. 75.) 

 Does not Mr. Wheatley hit on the true distinction 

 between man and the brute-world, when he assigns 

 it to language ? And does not Mr. Gilliard venture 

 on a very rash assertion when he says, " it is capable 

 of proof that man cannot act at all intuitively ? " It 

 is well known that Professor Max. Muller has urged 

 with his usual eloquence that language will yet prove 

 the hard and fast barrier between spirit and matter, 

 between man and brute ; let us note then what he 



says on the almost settled case of Reason versus 

 Instinct. "Some philosophers imagine they have 

 explained everything if they ascribe to brutes instinct 

 instead of intellect. But, if we take these two words 

 in their usual acceptations, they surely do not exclude 

 each other. There are instincts in man as well as in 

 brutes. A child takes his mother's breast by instinct, 

 the spider weaves his net by instinct ; the bee builds 

 her cell by instinct. . . . But what if we tear a 

 spider's web and see the spider examining the mis- 

 chief that is clone, and either giving up his work in 

 despair, or endeavouring to mend it as well as may 

 be ? Surely here we have the instinct of weaving 

 controlled by observation, by comparison, by reflec- 

 tion, by judgment. Instinct, whether mechanical or 

 moral, is more prominent in brutes than in man, but 

 it exists in both, as much as intellect is shared by 

 both." ("Lectures on the Science of Language," 9th ed. 

 vol. i. p. 402.) Perhaps the latest and most startling 

 theory, stated with a grotesque naivete which has a 

 bewildering charm, is that of Mr. Samuel Butler, who, 

 in his powerful book called "Life and Habit," boldly 

 says that " instinct is inherited memory." It is unfair 

 to tear from the texture of his ingenious argument 

 and elaborate illustration isolated passages, but the 

 following samples will perhaps whet the appetites of 

 those interested in the subject. Touching on the 

 inveteracy of habit, and the difficulty of breaking 

 away from " The grey nurses Use and Wont," he 

 says, " In our own case, the habit of breathing like 

 a fish through gills may serve as an example. We 

 have now left off this habit, yet we did it formerly, 

 for so many generations, that we still do it a little, 

 it still crosses our embryological existence like a faint 

 memory or dream, for not easily is an inveterate 

 habit broken." ("Life and Habit," p. 70.) Again, 

 "The action of embryo making its way up in the 

 world from a simple cell to a baby, developing for 

 itself eyes, ears, hands, and feet while yet unborn, 

 proves to be exactly of one and the same kind as that 

 of a man of fifty who goes into the city and tells his 

 broker to buy him so many Great Northern A shares." 

 And this, "The duckling hatched by the hen makes 

 straight for water. In what conceivable way can we 

 account for this, except on the supposition that the 

 duckling knows perfectly well what it can and what 

 it cannot do with water, owing to its recollection of 

 what it did when it was still one individuality with 

 its parents, and hence when it was a duckling before." 

 Taking such passages as this by themselves we might 

 be tempted to doubt with the "Saturday Review," 

 whether Mr. Butler was not palming off a big joke 

 on the public, but carefully read, the impression is 

 more likely to be that of Mr. Wallace, and this 

 distinguished naturalist sees in "Life and Habit" 

 much sound speculation and vital truth. — James 

 Hooper, De?unark Hill, S.E. 



Intelligence in Animals. — "It is quite clear" 

 (says Dr. Whately) " that if such acts were done by 

 man they would be regarded as an exercise of reason, 

 and I do not know why, when performed by brutes, 

 evidently by a similar process, so far as can be judged, 

 they should not bear the same name. To talk of 

 a cat's having instinct to pull a bell when desirous of 

 going out at the door .... would be to use words 

 at random." And I think many would agree with 

 the learned archbishop if they would carefully consider 

 the testimonies and researches of such eminent 

 naturalists and thinkers as Locke, the philosopher, 

 Bacon and Burns, Professors Darwin, Huber, Brehm, 

 Rengger, Kirby and Lord, F.Z.S., Rev. F .O. Morris, 

 Lubbock, and the lately recognised genius Edward, 

 of Banff, &c. As an example, of which so many can 



