What applies thus to æsthetics applies also to ethics. Few, however, will be found to contend that animals can be moral or immoral, or have any moral ideas properly so called. Mr. Romanes does indeed state, in the table he prefixes to his works on Mental Evolution, that the anthropoid apes and dogs are capable of "indefinite morality." He leaves this to be explained, however, in a future work. In the published instalment of "Mental Evolution in Man" he seems to contend,[IL] or, at least, admit, "that the fundamental concepts of morality are of later origin than the names by which they have been baptized." But he says nothing of indefinite morality, which still remains for consideration in another work. In the mean while we may, I think, confidently assume that ethics, like conceptual thought and æsthetics, are beyond the reach of the brute. Morality is essentially a matter of ideals, and these belong to the conceptual sphere.
I have now said enough[IM] to indicate what I mean by advocating the exercise of extreme caution in our inferences concerning the emotional states of animals. We must remember, first, how liable to error are our inferences in these matters; we must remember, next, how complex and essentially human are our own emotions. I do not for one moment deny that in animals are to be found the perceptual germs of even the higher emotional states. Nevertheless, if we employ, in our interpretation of the actions of animals, such terms as "consciousness of guilt," "sense of right and wrong," "idea of justice," "deceitfulness," "revenge," "vindictiveness," "shame," and the rest, we must not forget that these terms stand for human products, that they are saturated with conceptual thought, and that they must be to a large extent emptied of their meaning before they can become applicable to the emotional consciousness of brutes.
CHAPTER XI.
ANIMAL ACTIVITIES: HABIT AND INSTINCT.
So soon as one of the higher animals comes into the world a number of simple vital activities are already in progress or are at once initiated. Some of these are what are termed "automatic actions," or actions which take their origin within the organ which manifests the activity; such are the heart-beat and the rhythmical contractions of the intestines by which the food is pushed onwards through the alimentary canal. Some are reflex, or responsive, actions, taking origin from a stimulus coming from without; such are the contraction of the pupil of the eye under bright light, the pouring forth of the secretions on the presence of food in the alimentary canal, taking the breast, sneezing, and so forth. Some are partly automatic and partly reflex; such is the rhythm of respiration.
In addition to these vital activities, there is a vast body of more complex activities, for the performance of which the animal brings with it innate capacities. Some of these, which we term "instinctive," are performed at once and without any individual training, as when a chicken steps out into the world, runs about, and picks up food without learning or practice. Others, which we term "habitual," are more or less rapidly learnt, and are then performed without forethought or attention. The store of innate capacity is often very large; and a multitude of activities are ere long performed with ease and certainty so soon as the animal has learnt to use the organization it thus inherits. And lastly, built upon this as a basis, by recombining of old activities in new modes, and by special application of the activities to special circumstances, we have the activities which we term "intelligent;" and here again the activities are sometimes divided into two classes, answering respectively to the reflex and the automatic, but on a higher plane, according as they are responsive to stimuli coming more or less directly from without, or spontaneous and taking their origin from within. But it is probably rather the remoteness and indirectness of the responsive element than its absence that characterizes these spontaneous activities.
Another classification of activities is into voluntary and involuntary. Voluntary actions are consciously performed for the attainment of some more or less definite end or object. Involuntary actions, though they may be accompanied by consciousness, and though they may be apparently purposive, are performed without intention. Notwithstanding the conscious element, they may, perhaps, be regarded as rather physiological than psychological. The simple vital activities belong to this class. But some are much more complex. If, when I am watching the cobra at the Zoo, it suddenly strikes at the glass near my face, I involuntarily start back. The action is apparently purposive, that is to say, an observer of the action would perceive that it was performed for a definite end, the removal from danger; it is also accompanied by consciousness; but it is unintentional, no representation of the end to be gained or the action to be performed being at the moment of action framed by the mind. On the other hand, if I perform a voluntary act, such as selecting and lighting a cigar, there is first a desire or motive directed to a certain end in view, involving an ill-defined representation of the means by which that end may be achieved; and this is followed by the fulfilment of the desire through the application of the means to the performance of the act.
In the carrying out of voluntary activities, then, both perception and emotional appetence are involved. There are construction and reconstruction, memory and anticipation, and interwoven therewith the motive elements of appetence or aversion. It is emotion that gives force and power to the motive. And this must be regarded as the dynamic element in voluntary activity, while intelligence is the directive element. Feeling is the horse in the carriage of life, and Intelligence the coachman.
Let us here note that, in speaking of the activities of animals and the motives by which they are prompted, we are forced, if we would avoid pedantry, to leap backwards and forwards across the chasm which separates the mental from the physical. Motives, as we know them, are mental phenomena; the activities, as we see them, are physical phenomena. The two sets of phenomena belong to distinct phenomenal categories. In ordinary speech, when we pass and repass from motives to actions, and from actions to the feelings they may give rise to, we are apt to be forgetful of the depth of the chasm we so lightly leap. And this is no doubt because the chasm, though so infinitely deep, is so infinitely narrow. There are, however, no physical analogies by which we can explain the connection between the physical and the mental, between body and mind. The so-called connection is, in reality, as I believe, identity. Viewed from without, we have a series of physical and physiological phenomena; felt from within, we have a series of mental and psychological phenomena. It is the same series viewed from different aspects. This is no explanation; it is merely a way, and, as I believe, the correct way, of stating the facts. Why certain physiological phenomena should have a totally different aspect to the organism in which they occur from that which they offer to one who watches them from without, is a question which I hold to be insoluble. All we have to remember, however, is that, in passing from the mental to the physical, we are changing our point of view. The series may be set down thus—