50 THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT 



pain. The sensitive schedule of the Cerambyx-grub, 

 therefore, is Hmited to taste and touch, both exceedingly 

 obtuse. This almost brings us to Condillac's statue. 

 The imaginary being of the philosopher had one sense 

 only, that of smell, equal in delicacy to our own ; the real 

 being, the ravager of the oak, has two, inferior, even 

 when put together, to the former, which so plainly per- 

 ceived the scent of a rose and distinguished it so clearly 

 from any other. The real case will bear comparison 

 with the fictitious. 



What can be the psychology of a creature possessing 

 such a powerful digestive organism combined with such 

 a feeble set of senses? A vain wish has often come to 

 me in my dreams; it is to be able to think, for a few 

 minutes, with the crude brain of my Dog, to see the world 

 with the faceted eyes of a Gnat. How things would 

 change in appearance! They would change much more 

 if interpreted by the intellect of the grub. What have 

 the lessons of touch and taste contributed to that rudi- 

 mentary receptacle of impressions? Very little; almost 

 nothing. The animal knows that the best bits possess 

 an astringent flavor; that the sides of a passage not care- 

 fully planed are painful to the skin. This is the ut- 

 most limit of its acquired wisdom. In comparison, the 

 statue with the sensitive nostrils was a marvel of knowl- 

 edge, a paragon too generously endowed by its inventor. 

 It remembered, compared, judged, reasoned: does the 

 drowsily digesting paunch remember ? Does it compare ? 

 Does it reason? I defined the Capricorn-grub as a bit 

 of an intestine that crawls about. The undeniable accur- 



