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gences-that the dead body before us had been in life endowed with an activity not merely animal but intellectual, so that man's mind was an active intelligence like our own-if, in other words, we understood that the difference between him and all other animals was not a difference of degree but of kind -if we could be made to understand that its vast power of collecting and grouping sensible images served but to supply its intellectual activity with materials whereby it might perceive not merely sensible phenomena, but also abstract qualities of objects-if we became aware that the sounds uttered by it in life were not exclusively emotional expressions, but were the external signs of general conceptions, then the aspect of the question would be entirely altered for us. If we further came to know that the being we were considering had been endowed with the marvellous gift of free-will, by which his intelligence could interrupt and dominate the vast chain of merely physical causation, we should then surely conclude that as that activity and the acting body together formed but one unity, and as that intellectual activity was not only different in kind from that displayed by any other animal but indefinitely more different from the activity of the highest brute than the activity of the highest brute is different from that of the lowest-for these reasons we should conclude that man's origin was different in kind from theirs. The lesson then concerning man, which we seem to gather from nature as revealed to us in our own conscious

Conclusion. ness and as externally observed, is that man differs fundamentally from every other creature which presents itself to our senses. That he differs absolutely, and therefore differs in origin also. Although a strict unity, one material whole with one form, or force (not made of two parts mutually acting according to the vulgar notion of soul and body), yet he is seen to be a compound unity in which two distinct orders of being unite.

He is manifestly "animal," with the reflex functions, feelings, desires, and emotions of an animal. Yet equally manifest is it that he has a special nature "looking before and

after" which constitutes him "rational." Ruling, comprehending, interpreting, and completing much in nature, we also see in him that which manifestly points above nature. We see this, since we know that he can conceive mind indefinitely augmented in power and devoid of those limitations and imperfections it exhibits in him. Manifestly a contemplation of nature must be futile indeed which neglects to ponder over those ideas of power, wisdom, purpose, goodness and will, which are revealed to him in and by his own nature as he knows it to exist, and therefore as conceivably existing in a far higher form in that vast universe of being of which he is a self-conscious fragment.

some recapitulation.

CHAPTER VII.

THE BRUTE.

"The highest psychical powers of animals resemble the lower psychical faculties of man. The brute is devoid of reason, and instinct is a peculiar function of the material organism, automatic and blind.” IN the preceding chapter the nature of man, the rational Necessity of animal, could not be investigated without by implication, and indeed more or less directly, treating of the irrational creation considered in contrast with him. Here, where our purpose is to endeavour to gather what lesson we may from a consideration of the highest activities which brutes manifest, it will be necessary to reconsider some of the matters already treated of in our examination of the nature of man. Thus some recapitulation is unavoidable save at the sacrifice of clearness and cogency.

The highest activities of irrational animals are those sensitive and emotional ones which constitute the functional exercise of their nervous system, and especially characteristic of animal nature is that form of nervous activity called "Instinct."

Instinct, mode of

studying it. difficult.

The question as to the true nature of "Instinct" is one which has been much discussed of late, and is considered by many persons to be peculiarly It is, in fact, attended with some peculiar difficulty, because not only are we unable to make brute psychosis a part of our own consciousness, but we are also debarred from learning it by any process similar to that which enables us to enter into the minds of our fellow-men-namely, rational speech. The instincts of

animals have been, however, and are very carefully studied and observed, and it is generally assumed that to understand "Instinct" the continued and reiterated study of animal activity is the one thing necessary. It is obvious, indeed, that without such study Instinct cannot be clearly comprehended; and yet it may be questioned whether mental activity, in its endeavour to understand Instinct, has not been almost exclusively exercised in what, under existing circumstances, is the least useful mode. Every object of study is made clear to us by that which limits and contrasts with it, just as the size of any particular building is brought home to us by considering the size of surrounding objects, or its relation to the human stature. To comprehend Instinct is to appreciate justly its relations with the other faculties of animals and with our own, and it is especially its relation to Reason which is an object of interest. It is, then, plainly necessary that we should, more or less, perfectly understand "Reason," in order to thoroughly understand "Instinct." Now, unfortunately, it appears that most of those who have made it their business to study the so-called "minds" of animals have taken very little pains to understand their own mind. ance is not deceptive, it follows that what be done, in order to justly appreciate patiently study, not Instinct, but Reason. remarkable circumstance connected with living English writers, on questions such as those we here refer to, is the conspicuous absence in them of any manifest comprehension of those very powers they so continually exercise, and their apparent want of appreciation of that Reason to which they verbally appeal. Thus, while what Instinct is, and can do, is now fairly appreciated; what it is not, and what it cannot do, though Reason can and does, is generally lost sight of and ignored.

The mode in

use generally

defective. If this appearmost requires to "Instinct," is to Perhaps the most.

That this defect should exist will not appear so surprising when we consider how trying and difficult, for those unaccustomed to it, is the habit of turning the mind in upon

Reason for this.

itself, and the investigation by the mind of the mind's own processes. It is not to be wondered at if many persons shirk unwonted labour of this kind. Unfortunately, the study of Reason, and therefore the study of Instinct also, cannot be pursued with any reasonable hope of profit without frequent use of this process of introspection, nor without referring to, and at least briefly considering, some of the most fundamental questions of Philosophy. This is, indeed, obvious, since to compare "Instinct" with "Reason," we must know what "Reason" is; and this can only be ascertained by an inquiry into the activity of our own mind, into its ultimate and supreme declarations, into the tests as to such supremacy, and into the grounds on which we are, if at all, to accept such supreme declarations as true. Yet, after all, however arduous may be the process, it nevertheless does come within the field of experimental science in its widest sense. It does come within that field, because the elementary truths concerning the mind and its modes of activity repose upon observation and experiment, and the hypothesis which the inductions so induced suggest can be verified by testing experimentally such deductions as may necessarily flow from such hypothesis. But the most important of these observations are observations made by each observer on his own mental processes, while many of the experiments are of a similar nature.

Results of in

The slightest consideration of our own mental activity soon shows us that, in addition to our various trospection. feelings, we also "think" and "will." Thus, when a kindness has been done us, besides pleasurable feelings and emotions, we can think of and recognise the kindness of the kind act-possibly, also, the self-denying goodness apparent in the performer of it-and we can will to return such kindness by some corresponding act on our own part. On the other hand, we may feel great annoyance at some hostile action; and as we think of the unpleasant consequences, one after another, which will probably result to us from it, and of the peculiar ingratitude and treachery of the

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