The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



For instinct nothing is difficult, so long as the ac- 

 tion does not diverge from the immutable cycle 

 laid down for the insect; for instinct, again, noth- 

 ing is easy if the action has to diverge from the 

 paths habitually followed. The instinct which 

 amazes us, which terrifies us by its supreme lucid- 

 ity, astonishes us by its stupidity a moment later, 

 when confronted with the simplest situation which 

 is alien to its ordinary practice. . . . Instinct 

 knows everything in the invariable tracks which 

 have been laid down for it; nothing when off this 

 track. 



Sublime inspirations of science and amazing in- 

 consequences of stupidity are both its heritage, ac- 

 cordingly as it is acting under normal or accidental 

 conditions. 1 



It would be interesting to pursue this in- 

 quiry into the general laws of instinct, and to 

 give, as a pendant to the antithesis of its wis- 

 dom and stupidity, the no less singular 

 antithesis of its automatism and its varia- 

 tions. But that we may not beyond all 

 measure enlarge the proportions of this 

 monograph we will pass on at once to the 

 determination of the causes of instinct, as 

 related by our naturalist philosopher. 



1 Souvenirs, I., p. 165. The Hunting Wasps, chap, x., 

 "The Ignorance of Instinct." Ibid., iv., p. 238; v., p. 90. 

 The Sacred Beetle and Others, chap, vii., " The Broad- 

 necked Scarabaeus." 



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