ence. It is very doubtful, however, whether even this temporary impulse can properly be called instinctive. Recurring to the definition already given, is it certain that this is an instance of action not pleasurable in itself alone, but useful only as a means for some ulterior object? That mere muscular exertion is pleasant in itself is evident enough to one who observes the uneasiness of infants, and the strange gymnastic experiments of children of a little larger growth. If a small object be placed in the hand of an infant, its little fingers readily close around it, apparently from the mere pleasure of calling the muscles into activity. The sphincter muscle of the mouth may do the same, when any object comes within its grasp; and then the child needs but a single inspiration, which automatically recurs at every instant, with perhaps a little aid from the parent, in order to have its first pleasant experience of the gratification of appetite. When this pleasure has been a few times repeated, the habit, aided by the uneasiness of hunger, becomes so strong, though at the same time so blind, because the intellect is as yet not at all developed, that the infant eagerly sucks every object presented to its mouth. It is this eagerness, manifested at so early a period, which has led most observers to consider the action as instinctive. But one of the most eminent physiologists of our day expressly refers this act of suction to the reflex function of the nerves, thus considering it to be as mechanical as the shutting of the eyelid or the beating of the heart; for infants that have been born destitute of brain, and have lived for some hours, and other animals' young whose brain had been removed, have readily sucked a moistened finger, when introduced between their lips.

It has now been conclusively shown, if I mistake not, that a class of phenomena are manifested by the lower animals, which may be as sharply distinguished from the effects of human reason, on the one hand, as from those of appetite and natural desire on the other; and these phenomena are attributed to a power which we call instinct. Give it any other name, and it will answer the purpose equally well. All the lower animals manifest it; man never does; - - these are the only prop

ositions with which we are now concerned. All the actions of man, which have been loosely considered or described as instinctive, may be referred either to the powers of organic life, that is, to mechanical forces, or to the teachings of experience, or to the class of appetites. Human nature shows no trace whatever of that marvellous power which governs the bee in the construction of its cell, and guides the migrating bird to its winter home. But man is the only being who is not under its influence; every other animal, from the noblest quadruped to the humblest insect, gives frequent indications of its presence and control.

So numerous and striking, indeed, are the manifestations of it by every species, that there appears good reason to doubt whether it is ever mingled, even in them, with what is properly called intellect; whether all the reputed cases of sagacity and intelligence in the higher animals may not be referred, after all, into a mere blind propensity to imitate actions, the meaning and purpose of which they cannot understand, or into an instinct more flexible and varied, indeed, than that of the lower tribes, but which is still seen to be radically different from reason. Without entering into this difficult discussion, I will merely allude to the striking improbability of the lower animals being endowed with reason, which they need to exercise only on infrequent and extraordinary emergencies, while all the ordinary occasions of their beingtheir wants, dangers, and the continuation of their species — are provided for by the lower attributes with which they are specially endowed. These certainly suffice for the most wonderful works that are performed by them; the whole insect tribe unquestionably knows no other guide than instinct; and if this power be enough to account for the actions of the ant and the bee, we hardly need seek any other key to the supposed sagacity of the dog and the elephant, as they also possess it, and it governs nearly all their conduct.

But the negative on the other side is more easily supported, and by direct evidence. However it may be with the brute, reason is not united with instinct (properly so called) in man. The human intellect is pure and unmixed. It may be obscured

by appetite, or stormed by passion; habit may render its operations so swift and easy, that we cannot note and remember their succession. But when free from these disturbing forces, it acts always with a full perception of the end in view, and by a deliberate choice of means aims at its accomplishment. We have the immediate testimony of consciousness, that we never select means until experience has informed us of their efficacy, and never use them but with a full knowledge of their relation to the end.

Each of the qualities of instinct on which I have remarked is a peculiarity of it in respect to reason, and serves more or less to distinguish it from that faculty; while the aggregate of these peculiarities shows conclusively that the difference between the two is fundamental. This will appear more clearly from a summary of the several points that have been considered. It has been shown, then, that instinct exists before experience, and is wholly independent of instruction; that it is not susceptible of education or improvement of any kind, either in the individual or the race; that it works successfully towards important and remote ends by the use of complex and laborious means, yet without any apparent consciousness of the difference between means and ends; that it acts, in truth, by impulse, and not through reflection, at least, as much so as the man who has gained by habit the power of performing a long operation without reflecting on any part of it; that it is limited to a few objects, and out of the narrow sphere of work required for these objects it is altogether useless; and that, consequently, it appears in the same animal, and at the same time, both as the most brutish stupidity and as the highest wisdom, for some of its creations shame the greatest ingenuity of man. As we are confessedly ignorant of the internal constitution of both faculties, reason and instinct, and are compelled to judge of them exclusively by their outward manifestations, it is difficult to conceive of two powers which should appear more unlike.

It is vain to form conjectures respecting the inward essence, or ultimate cause, of a faculty which appears to human reason so anomalous. Yet one or two points, perhaps, may be satisfacto

rily made out respecting the mental constitution of brutes, which will afford us a glimpse of the final end of their being. Whether instinct be the mere action of a curious machine, or the effect of the constant agency and promptings of the Deity, or the working of some still more secret principle which is nowhere manifested but in animal life, it is not a free and conscious power of the animal itself in which it appears and works. It is, if I may so speak, a foreign agency, which enters not into the individuality of the brute. The animal appears subject to it, controlled and guided by it, but not to possess and apply it by its own will for its own chosen purposes. We cannot conceive of wisdom apart from reflection and consciousness; there is an absurdity in the very terms of such a statement. The skill and ingenuity, then, which appear in the works of the lower animals are not referable to the animals themselves, but must proceed from some higher power working above the sphere of their consciousness. This assistance is meted out to them for specific and limited ends, and has no effect on the rest of their conduct, which is governed by their own individuality. In its highest functions, the brute appears only as the blind and passive instrument of a will which is not its own. The power is granted to it for a time, but is not susceptible of improvement by practice while in its keeping, is invariably applied in the same way, and with perfect success, and is withdrawn as soon as the purposes for which it was given are answered. No moral character is attributable to a faculty which is unconsciously exerted, and no moral aim can exist where progress or change is impossible. When deprived of this extraneous power, or viewed apart from it, the brute appears in its true light, as the creature of a day, born not for purposes connected with its own being, but as an humble instrument, or a fragmentary part, in the great circle of animated nature, which, as a whole, is subservient to higher ends.

LECTURE III.

THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTIVITY IN HUMAN NATURE.

THE object of my last Lecture was, by a brief inquiry into the mental constitution of the animals inferior to man, to bring out into a stronger light those peculiarities of human nature which show what is the purpose of our being in this life, and what are the leading features in the scheme of Divine Providence for the government of man. I do not forget that the first object of this course is to show what are the moral attributes of God, and to ascertain if there is sufficient evidence to justify us in imputing to him those qualities of infinite wisdom and benevolence, of perfect justice and holiness, which the religious sentiment within us instinctively requires in the person towards whom it is directed. But these qualities can be manifested to our eyes only in his works and ways; and it is by studying these, that is, by ascertaining what human nature is, how it is endowed, and what is the part which it has to perform in this stage of existence, that we can arrive at any certain and precise knowledge of the Divine nature. Now we are so much accustomed to take for granted a knowledge of the human constitution, both intellectual and moral, it is so much easier to use our faculties in the study of external objects than of the mind itself, that, without some object of comparison or contrast, it is difficult to understand, or, at any rate, to have a clear and lively sense of, those endowments by which we are distinguished among God's creatures, and of the purposes for which these distinguishing attributes were granted to us. We