376 



THE CAT. 



[chap. XI. 



life is the function of its body considered as one whole, just as the 

 subordinate functions are those of that body's several sets of organs. 



That the living cat is one creature in feeling and action, as well 

 as that its body is one — i.e., that it is a unity dynamically as well 

 as statically — is what common sense and reason unite to assure us. 

 These suffice to convince us that the i^laintive cries of its victim, the 

 sight of its struggling form, and the taste of its blood, may be all 

 simultaneously felt by the same cat. More than this : such sensa- 

 tions call up more or less distinct reminiscences of similar feelings 

 before experienced, and give rise to vivid emotions and appropriate 

 actions, so that past and present sensations, of very varied lands, are 

 united with different emotions and appropriate actions in one existing 

 psychical activity. Such an animal then is really the theatre of 

 some unifying power which synthesizes its varied activities, dominates 

 its forces, and is a principle of individuation. There would seem 

 to be here present, a vital force or principle, which has no organ 

 except that of the entire body within which it resides, and the 

 activities of which reveal that principle's existence, just as the con- 

 tractions of muscular tissue make known to us its intrinsic, and 

 otherwise imperceptible, power of contractility. 



§ 8. But it may be thought that in the nervous system we have 

 the organ and vehicle of such unifying activity. Undoubtedly the 

 nervous system is, as before said, the great regulator of the body's 

 activities. But its own action requires regulation, and to be adjusted 

 to the actions of other systems. It cannot, however, regulate itself ! 

 Moreover, all the vital activities needed for growth, sustentation, 

 and reproduction, may exist in the greatest abundance without any 

 trace of a nervous system, as in the great world of plants— some of 

 which, such as the well-known sun-dew (Drosera) and Venus's fly-trap 

 (Dionwa), very curiously simulate the actions of animals. In such 

 plants we evidently have susceptibilities to impressions of a complex 

 kind ; for impressions made by objects, such as insects, are followed 

 by singularly appropriate actions on the part of the plants to secure 

 and digest their living prey. Very curious too are those movements 

 by which the roots of some plants seek moisture as if by instinct,* or 

 those by which the tendrils of certain climbers appear to search 

 for some fitting support, and, ha^dng found it, to cling to it by what 

 resembles a voluntary clasping.t Still more remarkable is the way 



* My friend Professor Paley, tells me 

 that in 18G3 at Pi-nn, near "Wolver- 

 hampton, a sycamore tree of consider- 

 ahlo size was found to have sent down 

 into a well, to reach the water, a root 

 forty-four feet lonfj, and ahcnit a quarter 

 of iin inch in diameter throu^diout. A 

 mass of roots had wrapped tliemselves 

 round tlie upper part of tlie well and 

 nearly stopped it up. Tlie Kev. F. H. 

 Paley (formerly vicar of Penn, and now 

 vicar of Church Preen, Shrewshury) has 

 confirmed the truth of this sfatemcut. 



+ These tendrils oscillate till thoy 

 touch an object, which they tlien em- 

 brace. The tendril of a passion-llower 

 may sometimes be made to bend by the 

 l)ressuro on it of a thread weighing no 

 more than the tliirty-second part of a 

 grain, or by merely touching it for a 

 time with a twig. If, however, the twig 

 be taken away again at once, the tendril 

 will then soon straighten itself. Yet 

 neither the contact of other tendrils of 

 the same plant or the fall of raindrops 

 will produce such bendings. 



