88 



DR. ALFRED T. SCHOFIELD ON 



7. The next difficulty is that of instinct, and specially of insect 

 instinct. Henri Fabre, the French natui^ahst, a name known to 

 us all, disagreed with Darwin. He, in his reliance on the struggle 

 for existence, and the gradual evolution of various powers that 

 might be useful in some far distant generation, is confronted by 

 Fabre 's insistence on instinct, which is never learnt by the animal, 

 but belongs at the very outset, in full power, to the insects that 

 require it. An incomparable observer (easily the first in insect 

 life), as distinguished from a theonst, Fabre has collected a 

 number of different instances of instinct, which, as he thinks, 

 destroy the theory of the evolution of insects. Darwin himself, 

 a true judge, did not fail to realise something of the kind. He 

 clearly dreaded the problem of the instincts when he said, " The 

 instincts appear sufficient to overthrow my whole theor}-." 

 (" Origin of Species," p. 191). 



Unfortunately, Darwin died just as the discussion with Fabre 

 was beginning, but up to his death he still adhered to the theory 

 that instinct is an acquired habit. Of course, this necessitated the 

 transmission of acquired habits, in which Lamarck and Danvin 

 fully believed, but which ^\'eissman and others of the first rank 

 stoutly deny. Not only did Fabre believe that the wonders of 

 creation were quite inexphcable \^'ithout the assumption of a 

 Divine Architect of the universe, but he had an extraordinary 

 regard for the life of the insects he studied and described, but 

 could not explain. Fabre has indeed helped us to realise that in 

 life there is nothing common or unclean, and he treated it as 

 sacred. 



I must here turn aside for one moment to illustrate this. Fabre 

 had a .great glass case, containing twenty-five scorpions. In the 

 day time you saw nothing, but at night with, a lantern you could 

 see the marvels of scorpion life, including love-making. " Some- 

 times their foreheads touched, and the two mouths meet with 

 tender effusiveness. To describe these caresses by the word 

 * kisses ' occurs to the mind. One dare not employ it : for here is 

 neither head, face, lips, nor cheeks. Truncated as thoucrh by a 

 stroke of the shears, the animal has not even a snout. Where we 

 should look for a face are tvro hideous jaws like a wall. And this 

 for the scorpion is the height of beauty ! With his fore-legs, more 

 delicate and agile than the rest, he softly pats the dreadful mask 

 of his partner; to his eyes, an exquisite face. Voluptuously he 

 nibbles at it, tickles with his jaws the face touching his, as hideous 

 as his own. His tenderness and naivete are superb. The dove, 

 they say, invented the kiss. I know a precursor — the scorpion." 



The impassable gulf of the amorphous slime we call a chr^'salis, 

 between caterpillar and insect, we repeat, seems to defy all the 

 powers of Darwin's evolution, to say nothing of the incredible 

 accuracy of the insect instinct. In the sphex wasp it is required 



