Other cla.s.ses of these ideas, where the abstraction has not been so great, have been termed, by Mr. Locke, modes, substances, and relations, but they seem only to differ in their degree of abstraction from the complex ideas that were at first excited; for as these complex or natural ideas are themselves imperfect copies of their correspondent perceptions, so these abstract or general ideas are only still more imperfect copies of the same perceptions. Thus when I have seen an object but once, as a rhinoceros, my abstract idea of this animal is the same as my complex one. I may think more or less distinctly of a rhinoceros, but it is the very rhinoceros that I saw, or some part or property of him, which recurs to my mind.
But when any cla.s.s of complex objects becomes the subject of conversation, of which I have seen many individuals, as a castle or an army, some property or circ.u.mstance belonging to it is peculiarly alluded to; and then I feel in my own mind, that my abstract idea of this complex object is only an idea of that part, property, or att.i.tude of it, that employs the present conversation, and varies with every sentence that is spoken concerning it.
So if any one should say, "one may sit upon a horse safer than on a camel,"
my abstract idea of the two animals includes only an outline of the level back of the one, and the gibbosity on the back of the other. What noise is that in the street?--Some horses trotting over the pavement. Here my idea of the horses includes princ.i.p.ally the shape and motion of their legs. So also the abstract ideas of goodness and courage are still more imperfect representations of the objects they were received from; for here we abstract the material parts, and recollect only the qualities.
Thus we abstract so much from some of our complex ideas, that at length it becomes difficult to determine of what perception they partake; and in many instances our idea seems to be no other than of the sound or letters of the word, that stands for the collective tribe, of which we are said to have an abstracted idea, as noun, verb, chimaera, apparition.
6. Ideas have been divided into those of perception and those of reflection, but as whatever is perceived must be external to the organ that perceives it, all our ideas must originally be ideas of perception.
7. Others have divided our ideas into those of memory, and those of imagination; they have said that a recollection of ideas in the order they were received const.i.tutes memory, and without that order imagination; but all the ideas of imagination, excepting the few that are termed simple ideas, are parts of trains or tribes in the order they were received; as if I think of a sphinx, or a griffin, the fair face, bosom, wings, claws, tail, are all complex ideas in the order they were received: and it behoves the writers, who adhere to this definition, to determine, how small the trains must be, that shall be called imagination; and how great those, that shall be called memory.
Others have thought that the ideas of memory have a greater vivacity than those of imagination: but the ideas of a person in sleep, or in a waking reverie, where the trains connected with sensation are uninterrupted, are more vivid and distinct than those of memory, so that they cannot be distinguished by this criterion.
The very ingenious author of the Elements of Criticism has described what he conceives to be a species of memory, and calls it ideal presence; but the instances he produces are the reveries of sensation, and are therefore in truth connections of the imagination, though they are recalled in the order they were received.
The ideas connected by a.s.sociation are in common discourse attributed to memory, as we talk of memorandum-rings, and tie a knot on our handkerchiefs to bring something into our minds at a distance of time. And a school-boy, who can repeat a thousand unmeaning lines in Lilly"s Grammar, is said to have a good memory. But these have been already shewn to belong to the cla.s.s of a.s.sociation; and are termed ideas of suggestion.
II. Lastly, the method already explained of cla.s.sing ideas into those excited by irritation, sensation, volition, or a.s.sociation, we hope will be found more convenient both for explaining the operations of the mind, and for comparing them with those of the body; and for the ill.u.s.tration and the cure of the diseases of both, and which we shall here recapitulate.
1. Irritative ideas are those, which are preceded by irritation, which is excited by objects external to the organs of sense: as the idea of that tree, which either I attend to, or which I shun in walking near it without attention. In the former case it is termed perception, in the latter it is termed simply an irritative idea.
2. Sensitive ideas are those, which are preceded by the sensation of pleasure or pain; as the ideas, which const.i.tute our dreams or reveries, this is called imagination.
3. Voluntary ideas are those, which are preceded by voluntary exertion, as when I repeat the alphabet backwards: this is called recollection.
4. a.s.sociate ideas are those, which are preceded by other ideas or muscular motions, as when we think over or repeat the alphabet by rote in its usual order; or sing a tune we are accustomed to; this is called suggestion.
III. 1. Perceptions signify those ideas, which are preceded by irritation and succeeded by the sensation of pleasure or pain, for whatever excites our attention interests us; that is, it is accompanied with, pleasure or pain; however slight may be the degree or quant.i.ty of either of them.
The word memory includes two cla.s.ses of ideas, either those which, are preceded by voluntary exertion, or those which are suggested by their a.s.sociations with other ideas.
2. Reasoning is that operation of the sensorium, by which we excite two or many tribes of ideas; and then re-excite the ideas, in which they differ, or correspond. If we determine this difference, it is called judgment; if we in vain endeavour to determine it, it is called doubting.
If we re-excited the ideas, in which they differ, it is called distinguishing. If we re-excite those in which they correspond, it is called comparing.
3. Invention is an operation of the sensorium, by which we voluntarily continue to excite one train of ideas, suppose the design of raising water by a machine; and at the same time attend to all other ideas, which are connected with this by every kind of catenation; and combine or separate them voluntarily for the purpose of obtaining some end.
For we can create nothing new, we can only combine or separate the ideas, which we have already received by our perceptions: thus if I wish to represent a monster, I call to my mind the ideas of every thing disagreeable and horrible, and combine the nastiness and gluttony of a hog, the stupidity and obstinacy of an a.s.s, with the fur and awkwardness of a bear, and call the new combination Caliban. Yet such a monster may exist in nature, as all his attributes are parts of nature. So when I wish to represent every thing, that is excellent, and amiable; when I combine benevolence with cheerfulness, wisdom, knowledge, taste, wit, beauty of person, and elegance of manners, and a.s.sociate them in one lady as a pattern to the world, it is called invention; yet such a person may exist,--such a person does exist!--It is ---- ----, who is as much a monster as Caliban.
4. In respect to consciousness, we are only conscious of our existence, when we think about it; as we only perceive the lapse of time, when we attend to it; when we are busied about other objects, neither the lapse of time nor the consciousness of our own existence can occupy our attention.
Hence, when we think of our own existence, we only excite abstracted or reflex ideas (as they are termed), of our princ.i.p.al pleasures or pains, of our desires or aversions, or of the figure, solidity, colour, or other properties of our bodies, and call that act of the sensorium a consciousness of our existence. Some philosopher, I believe it is Des Cartes, has said, "I think, therefore I exist." But this is not right reasoning, because thinking is a mode of existence; and it is thence only saying, "I exist, therefore I exist." For there are three modes of existence, or in the language of grammarians three kinds of verbs. First, simply I am, or exist. Secondly, I am acting, or exist in a state of activity, as I move. Thirdly, I am suffering, or exist in a state of being acted upon, as I am moved. The when, and the where, as applicable to this existence, depends on the successive motions of our own or of other bodies; and on their respective situations, as spoken of Sect. XIV. 2. 5.
5. Our ident.i.ty is known by our acquired habits or catenated trains of ideas and muscular motions; and perhaps, when we compare infancy with old age, in those alone can our ident.i.ty be supposed to exist. For what else is there of similitude between the first speck of living ent.i.ty and the mature man?--every deduction of reasoning, every sentiment or pa.s.sion, with every fibre of the corporeal part of our system, has been subject almost to annual mutation; while some catenations alone of our ideas and muscular actions have continued in part unchanged.
By the facility, with which we can in our waking hours voluntarily produce certain successive trains of ideas, we know by experience, that we have before reproduced them; that is, we are conscious of a time of our existence previous to the present time; that is, of our ident.i.ty now and heretofore. It is these habits of action, these catenations of ideas and muscular motions, which begin with life, and only terminate with it; and which we can in some measure deliver to our posterity; as explained in Sect. x.x.xIX.
6. When the progressive motions of external bodies make a part of our present catenation of ideas, we attend to the lapse of time; which appears the longer, the more frequently we thus attend to it; as when we expect something at a certain hour, which much interests us, whether it be an agreeable or disagreeable event; or when we count the pa.s.sing seconds on a stop-watch.
When an idea of our own person, or a reflex idea of our pleasures and pains, desires and aversions, makes a part of this catenation, it is termed consciousness; and if this idea of consciousness makes a part of a catenation, which we excite by recollection, and know by the facility with which we excite it, that we have before experienced it, it is called ident.i.ty, as explained above.
7. In respect to freewill, it is certain, that we cannot will to think of a new train of ideas, without previously thinking of the first link of it; as I cannot will to think of a black swan, without previously thinking of a black swan. But if I now think of a tail, I can voluntarily recollect all animals, which have tails; my will is so far free, that I can pursue the ideas linked to this idea of tail, as far as my knowledge of the subject extends; but to will without motive is to will without desire or aversion; which is as absurd as to feel without pleasure or pain; they are both solecisms in the terms. So far are we governed by the catenations of motions, which affect both the body and the mind of man, and which begin with our irritability, and end with it.
SECT. XVI.
OF INSTINCT.
Haud equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis Ingenium, aut rerum fato prudentia major.--Virg. Georg. L. I. 415.
I. _Instinctive actions defined. Of connate pa.s.sions._ II. _Of the sensations and motions of the foetus in the womb._ III. _Some animals are more perfectly formed than others before nativity. Of learning to walk._ IV. _Of the swallowing, breathing, sucking, pecking, and lapping of young animals._ V. _Of the sense of smell, and its uses to animals.
Why cats do not eat their kittens._ VI. _Of the accuracy of sight in mankind, and their sense of beauty. Of the sense of touch in elephants, monkies, beavers, men._ VII. _Of natural language._ VIII. _The origin of natural language;_ 1. _the language of fear;_ 2. _of grief;_ 3. _of tender pleasure;_ 4. _of serene pleasure;_ 5. _of anger;_ 6. _of attention._ IX. _Artificial language of turkies, hens, ducklings, wagtails, cuckoos, rabbits, dogs, and nightingales._ X. _Of music; of tooth-edge; of a good ear; of architecture._ XI. _Of acquired knowledge; of foxes, rooks, fieldfares, lapwings, dogs, cats, horses, crows, and pelicans._ XII. _Of birds of pa.s.sage, dormice, snakes, bats, swallows, quails, ringdoves, stare, chaffinch, hoopoe, chatterer, hawfinch, crossbill, rails and cranes._ XIII. _Of birds nests; of the cuckoo; of swallows nests; of the taylor bird._ XIV. _Of the old soldier; of haddocks, cods, and dog fish; of the remora; of crabs, herrings, and salmon._ XV. _Of spiders, caterpillars, ants, and the ichneumon._ XVI. 1. _Of locusts, gnats;_ 2. _bees;_ 3. _dormice, flies, worms, ants, and wasps._ XVII. _Of the faculty that distinguishes man from the brutes._
I. All those internal motions of animal bodies, which contribute to digest their aliment, produce their secretions, repair their injuries, or increase their growth, are performed without our attention or consciousness. They exist as well in our sleep, as in our waking hours, as well in the foetus during the time of gestation, as in the infant after nativity, and proceed with equal regularity in the vegetable as in the animal system. These motions have been shewn in a former part of this work to depend on the irritations of peculiar fluids, and as they have never been cla.s.sed amongst the instinctive actions of animals, are precluded from our present disquisition.
But all those actions of men or animals, that are attended with consciousness, and seem neither to have been directed by their appet.i.tes, taught by their experience, nor deduced from observation or tradition, have been referred to the power of instinct. And this power has been explained to be a _divine something_, a kind of inspiration; whilst the poor animal, that possesses it, has been thought little better than _a machine_!
The _irksomeness_, that attends a continued att.i.tude of the body, or the _pains_, that we receive from heat, cold, hunger, or other injurious circ.u.mstances, excite us to _general locomotion_: and our senses are so formed and const.i.tuted by the hand of nature, that certain objects present us with pleasure, others with pain, and we are induced to approach and embrace these, to avoid and abhor those, as such sensations direct us.
Thus the palates of some animals are gratefully affected by the mastication of fruits, others of grains, and others of flesh; and they are thence instigated to attain, and to consume those materials; and are furnished with powers of muscular motion, and of digestion proper for such purposes.
These _sensations_ and _desires_ const.i.tute a part of our system, as our _muscles_ and _bones_ const.i.tute another part: and hence they may alike be termed _natural_ or _connate_; but neither of them can properly be termed _instinctive_: as the word instinct in its usual acceptation refers only to the _actions_ of animals, as above explained: the origin of these _actions_ is the subject of our present enquiry.
The reader is intreated carefully to attend to this definition of _instinctive actions_, lest by using the word instinct without adjoining any accurate idea to it, he may not only include the natural desires of love and hunger, and the natural sensations of pain or pleasure, but the figure and contexture of the body, and the faculty of reason itself under this general term.
II. We experience some sensations, and perform some actions before our nativity; the sensations of cold and warmth, agitation and rest, fulness and inanition, are instances of the former; and the repeated struggles of the limbs of the foetus, which begin about the middle of gestation, and those motions by which it frequently wraps the umbilical chord around its neck or body, and even sometimes ties it on a knot; are instances of the latter. Smellie"s Midwifery, (Vol. I. p. 182.)
By a due attention to these circ.u.mstances many of the actions of young animals, which at first sight seemed only referable to an inexplicable instinct, will appear to have been acquired like all other animal actions, that are attended with consciousness, _by the repeated efforts of our muscles under the conduct of our sensations or desires_.
The chick in the sh.e.l.l begins to move its feet and legs on the sixth day of incubation (Mattreican, p. 138); or on the seventh day, (Langley); afterwards they are seen to move themselves gently in the liquid that surrounds them, and to open and shut their mouths, (Harvei, de Generat. p.
62, and 197. Form de Poulet. ii. p. 129). Puppies before the membranes are broken, that involve them, are seen to move themselves, to put out their tongues, and to open and shut their mouths, (Harvey, Gipson, Riolan, Haller). And calves lick themselves and swallow many of their hairs before their nativity: which however puppies do not, (Swammerden, p. 319. Flemyng Phil. Trans. Ann. 1755. 42). And towards the end of gestation, the foetus of all animals are proved to drink part of the liquid in which they swim, (Haller. Physiol. T. 8. 204). The white of egg is found in the mouth and gizzard of the chick, and is nearly or quite consumed before it is hatched, (Harvie de Generat. 58). And the liquor amnii is found in the mouth and stomach of the human foetus, and of calves; and how else should that excrement be produced in the intestines of all animals, which is voided in great quant.i.ty soon after their birth; (Gipson, Med. Essays, Edinb. V. i.
13. Halleri Physiolog. T. 3. p. 318. and T. 8). In the stomach of a calf the quant.i.ty of this liquid amounted to about three pints, and the hairs amongst it were of the same colour with those on its skin, (Blasii Anat.
Animal, p.m. 122). These facts are attested by many other writers of credit, besides those above mentioned.
III. It has been deemed a surprising instance of instinct, that calves and chickens should be able to walk by a few efforts almost immediately after their nativity: whilst the human infant in those countries where he is not inc.u.mbered with clothes, as in India, is five or six months, and in our climate almost a twelvemonth, before he can safely stand upon his feet.
The struggles of all animals in the womb must resemble their mode of swimming, as by this kind of motion they can best change their att.i.tude in water. But the swimming of the calf and chicken resembles their manner of walking, which they have thus in part acquired before their nativity, and hence accomplish it afterwards with very few efforts, whilst the swimming of the human creature resembles that of the frog, and totally differs from his mode of walking.
There is another circ.u.mstance to be attended to in this affair, that not only the growth of those peculiar parts of animals, which are first wanted to secure their subsistence, are in general furthest advanced before their nativity: but some animals come into the world more completely formed throughout their whole system than others: and are thence much forwarder in all their habits of motion. Thus the colt, and the lamb, are much more perfect animals than the blind puppy, and the naked rabbit; and the chick of the pheasant, and the partridge, has more perfect plumage, and more perfect eyes, as well as greater apt.i.tude to locomotion, than the callow nestlings of the dove, and of the wren. The parents of the former only find it necessary to shew them their food, and to teach them to take it up; whilst those of the latter are obliged for many days to obtrude it into their gaping mouths.
IV. From the facts mentioned in No. 2. of this Section, it is evinced that the foetus learns to swallow before its nativity; for it is seen to open its mouth, and its stomach is found filled with the liquid that surrounds it. It opens its mouth, either instigated by hunger, or by the irksomeness of a continued att.i.tude of the muscles of its face; the liquor amnii, in which it swims, is agreeable to its palate, as it consists of a nourishing material, (Haller Phys. T. 8. p. 204). It is tempted to experience its taste further in the mouth, and by a few efforts learns to swallow, in the same manner as we learn all other animal actions, which are attended with consciousness, _by the repeated efforts of our muscles under the conduct of our sensations or volitions_.
The inspiration of air into the lungs is so totally different from that of swallowing a fluid in which we are immersed, that it cannot be acquired before our nativity. But at this time, when the circulation of the blood is no longer continued through the placenta, that suffocating sensation, which we feel about the precordia, when we are in want of fresh air, disagreeably affects the infant: and all the muscles of the body are excited into action to relieve this oppression; those of the breast, ribs, and diaphragm are found to answer this purpose, and thus respiration is discovered, and is continued throughout our lives, as often as the oppression begins to recur.
Many infants, both of the human creature, and of quadrupeds, struggle for a minute after they are born before they begin to breathe, (Haller Phys. T.
8. p. 400. ib pt. 2. p. 1). Mr. Buffon thinks the action of the dry air upon the nerves of smell of new-born animals, by producing an endeavour to sneeze, may contribute to induce this first inspiration, and that the rarefaction of the air by the warmth of the lungs contributes to induce expiration, (Hist. Nat. Tom. 4. p. 174). Which latter it may effect by producing a disagreeable sensation by its delay, and a consequent effort to relieve it. Many children sneeze before they respire, but not all, as far as I have observed, or can learn from others.
At length, by the direction of its sense of smell, or by the officious care of its mother, the young animal approaches the odoriferous rill of its future nourishment, already experienced to swallow. But in the act of swallowing, it is necessary nearly to close the mouth, whether the creature be immersed in the fluid it is about to drink, or not: hence, when the child first attempts to suck, it does not slightly compress the nipple between its lips, and suck as an adult person would do, by absorbing the milk; but it takes the whole nipple into its mouth for this purpose, compresses it between its gums, and thus repeatedly chewing (as it were) the nipple, presses out the milk, exactly in the same manner as it is drawn from the teats of cows by the hands of the milkmaid. The celebrated Harvey observes, that the foetus in the womb must have sucked in a part of its nourishment, because it knows how to suck the minute it is born, as any one may experience by putting a finger between its lips, and because in a few days it forgets this art of sucking, and cannot without some difficulty again acquire it, (Exercit. de Gener. Anim. 48). The same observation is made by Hippocrates.
A little further experience teaches the young animal to suck by absorption, as well as by compression; that is, to open the chest as in the beginning of respiration, and thus to rarefy the air in the mouth, that the pressure of the denser external atmosphere may contribute to force out the milk.