Ancient Faiths And Modern / A Dissertation upon Worships, Legends and Divinities in Central and Western Asia, Europe, and Elsewhere, Before the Christian Era. Showing Their Relations to Religious Customs as They Now Exist.

by Thomas Inman

2. The belief that the Creator made each creature originally perfect, and with certain well defined propensities, involves the further confidence that the indulgence in those propensities is a necessary part of the scheme of creation; consequently, I believe that the tiger eats flesh because it is a law of his existence, and that in doing so he commits no sin. I believe, still further, that a close observation of nature gives us some apparent insight into the plan of creation For example, I think the existence of gills in a fish leads us fairly to the conclusion that it was intended to live in the water; that the existence of teeth implies that they were to be used in eating, wings in flying, legs in walking. Still further, when we notice that vegetables can assimilate mineral matter, which animals, as a rule, cannot, I believe that the vegetable kingdom has its special place in the world; and when, moreover, we find creatures who can eat and digest vegetables, and have a special apparatus for the purpose, it is fair to conclude that they too have their station assigned. A corresponding remark applies to the carnivora. Once again,—when an extended observation shows us that the beasts and birds of prey select for their victims the young of animals which their parents are unable to protect, the aged, who are too infirm to fight for themselves, or the sickly, which are quite unfit to live: when, moreover, we find these carnivorous creatures die when age or accident deprives them of the power of getting food; nay, when we see large numbers of all animals die from want of food, of air, of warmth, or from accidents—I believe that we are justified in deducing the idea that it is a design of the Power, that those which cannot live shall die; I believe that death is as essential a necessity to every creature as is its birth, and that its many forms have a definite purpose.

Let us now, for a moment, turn our attention to the very commencement of life. If from any cause the new being is seriously malformed or diseased, it is a common thing for the dam to miscarry. If a mother, say a pig, rat, or bird, brings forth a larger brood than she can nourish, she commonly kills the smallest, and allows only those to survive which she can find food for—the bird that lays more eggs than her nest will hold, turns the overplus out; and if, when the fledglings grow up, they are too bulky, one of them will be discarded. The cuckoo's chick has a special provision made for helping it to turn out the young of another bird, and its mother has also a special instinct to lay its eggs in the nest of the hedge-sparrow. The life of one involves the death of three or more. Again, in the aquatic world, one fish makes no scruple to feed on its own young ones or those of its neighbours, and the old crocodile seeks out its offspring as a favourite luxury. We find, moreover, that where these creatures abound there may often be found a small animal—the ichneumon—whose instinct teaches it to seek for and destroy the eggs of the saurian. In like manner crows, rats, cuckoos, and probably many other creatures, have a propensity to feed upon the eggs of various birds. In few words, we recognize throughout creation an apparent design to prevent a superabundance of life.

This remarkable provision, working, as it does, through laws which seem to be fixed and established, prevents our belief in the interference of the Creator. When an animal has reached the period of nearly adult age, there is in many instances a considerable amount of instruction given to it, sometimes by the sire, but mostly by the dam. When that has been imparted, parents and offspring seem to be like strangers to each other.

It is probable that, if we could observe all animals, we should find some system of training of the family. As it is, we can only speak of domestic fowls, and notice the order which the hen keeps up amongst her brood of chickens; they are taught to live peaceably. Her punishments are never lenient; they are, indeed, necessarily severe.

We may next proceed to inquire into the animal instincts which exist in adult life, at a period when every creature is supposed to be in its perfection. At a certain time of the year there is a propensity for the male and female to unite. There is not anything in creation which affords a more attractive study than this, for every class of creatures has a practice peculiar to itself. One might fancy that in an act so necessary and so simple there would be little cause for interest; yet, in reality, "the prodigality of design"—a term which we hope to explain fully hereafter—is more largely shown in this process than in any other. It is, however, a subject upon which one cannot descant before the general public.

So far as we are able to observe animals, we find that at this period there is, amongst a great number of classes, a power amongst the males to discover the most perfect amongst the females, and to fight for them. By this means the young are certain to be the offspring of perfection of grace and beauty in the dam, and strength and size in the sire. We can readily understand that, if the loveliest hind were to pair with the weakliest stag, the breed would degenerate, and probably die out. But the conqueror can hold his place only so long as he has vigour; when age has weakened him, the youthful successor practically prevents the old buck from being a father. In some exceptional cases (apparently so at least) the number of males exceeds that of the females, and, as a result of the instinct before alluded to, the fight ends in the majority of the males being destroyed. The survivor then has one spouse only, and not a seraglio. This is said to obtain amongst rats and lions.

As yet, there is not a sufficient amount of observation available to enable us to affirm what is the general cause of exit from life, when no death by violence occurs. We do not know the end of old buffaloes, elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotami, whales, and other monsters. Tales are told of decrepit lions being occasionally seen tottering to their fall; and gossip says that ancient cats know when they are about to die, and retire to some secluded nook, where they give up the ghost quietly. I cannot charge my memory with a single anecdote in which the youthful animal endeavours to sustain the old one, by feeding it during its decrepitude. Throughout creation parental affection signifies solicitude for offspring. We do not anywhere discover a love towards a parent after the younger creature has reached adult age.

In all the cases to which I have referred, and, were I a naturalist, they might be greatly multiplied, there is no pretence, even amongst the orthodox, that any of the creatures have committed "sin" against the Almighty, or against the community of which they form a part. On the contrary, what is done, even though it amounts to murder, is regarded as a necessity; and we admire the laws of nature which bring about such results. We do not stop to inquire whether any contrivance would prevent birds from laying too many eggs, and cuckoos from dropping theirs into the nests of other birds; we content ourselves with saying, "such is the will of Providence." It is easy to come to such a conclusion as regards what we are pleased to call "the lower animals," but as soon as we inquire "whether similar laws or instincts are implanted in us," we are generally met with a howl of repugnance.

But I believe that we shall never understand our true position in life and in nature until we deliberately investigate that which we have in common with other animals, and wherein we are different—probably superior. I use the word probably, because, in the estimation of higher beings than ourselves—if such there be—the horse and the elephant may be regarded as being far above us in the scale which those beings have framed for themselves.

I have never yet seen any deliberate attempt to work out the problem referred to. Every one, or nearly so, who if orthodox, assumes that it is absolutely wicked to compare the beasts which perish, to man who has a soul As I have, in a previous volume, shown that the evidence for the immortality of the horse is equal to that for the human race, I will not stay to point out the absurdity of building an important argument upon a baseless assumption, but simply express my belief that man has very much in common with other mammals; but that he is in possession of something superadded, which, at first sight—though not in reality—takes him out of the trammels of the ordinary laws of nature that operate in the brutes.