upon a foot stalk under water; and when the flowering season arrives, the stalk rises perpendicularly without any regard to the stream, until the flowers reach above the surface of the water. At this time some of them expand, and then the antheræ discharge their fecundating dust upon the stigma. About four o'clock in the afternoon the expanded flowers close, and the footstalk lies down either upon or under the water. It is erected every day until the flower has been fully impregnated, when it once more sinks under water, and there remains to ripen its seeds, which at a proper time escape from the fruit, and give birth to new individuals. This is asserted by Linnæus and various other naturalists; and, though controverted by some, has been recently confirmed by the observations of Dr. Smith, who authorizes me to use his name on this occasion. In cold or shady weather this phænomenon is less evident, and is explained by the writer last named as entirely owing to the stimulus of light. But yet, I presume, it is also in part referable to instinct, and that light operates only as an auxiliary to that phænomenon.' What is termed the sleep of plants, and flowers, is stated as another striking example of instinctive action in vegetables; or as a proof that they are endued with the power of self-motion, which contributes to their well-being, and may therefore be fairly supposed to partake as much of the nature of instinctive action, or to be as necessarily the adjunct of sensation, in the vegetable as in the animal being. Moreover, as, in certain animals, the absence of locomotive power is no criterion of the want of sensation, neither, in vegetables, ought it to be urged against the existence of sensation in them. In short, if any species of living being, from man down to the most humble plant, be destitute of the locomotive power, it is because all the important purposes of welfare and preservation, for which it is given to others, are fully answered 'without it. From his review of instinct, volition, and locomotive power, the essayist infers that they are distinct attributes; inasmuch (he says) as instinct may exist independently of the other two, and the locomotive power, independently of volition. Indeed, if we attend to the particular character of the locomotive faculty in many animals, it is evident that the exertion of this power is merely instinctive, though it is not a necessary adjunct either of instinct or of sensation. But at the same time, I apprehend that sensation is necessarily associated with the instinctive faculty, although the former, like the latter, may exist independently both of volition and of the locomotive power; and perhaps we refuse to admit the existence of sensation in vegetables, under the idea that it is connected with the exercise of intellectual powers, which we cannot suppose to appertain to this class of beings.' Mere sensitive power, it is well remarked, does not necessarily imply a thinking and reasoning mind, and may therefore belong to the lowest orders of animals, and to plants. Mr. Tupper next proceeds to combat the fashionable and ingenious doctrine which deduces vegetable motions from irritability, independently of sensation. If by irritability we are to understand a susceptibility of receiving impressions, it naturally pre-supposes sensation; for wherefore bestow a capacity of receiving impressions, if none are to be received? Again, the permanent action of irritability differs very materially from the temporary action of stimuli applied to the muscles of an amputated limb; and we are not warranted to assert that vegetable differs in its nature from animal irritability, when we observe that they are subjected to analogous laws, and produce analogous effects. Having met with great fairness the most plausible objections to his favourite hypothesis, the author prosecutes at considerable length, and with much judgment and ability, the correspondences which may be traced between various departments of the physiological structure of plants and animals; or rather, the correspondences of actions or effects produced by the respective organic structure of both. In some cases, the particular organs destined for certain purposes in the economy of both cannot be demonstrated, in the present state of human knowlege: but we are not, on that account, authorized to deny their existence, while the uniformity of their operations sufficiently indicates their presence. In reply to the question, In what particular manner do vegetables feel themselves affected in consequence of any impression which they may receive? it is observed that the difference between the sentient organs of plants and our own precludes us from forming any idea of the particular kind of pleasure, or pain, which a plant may experience; although we may distinguish in its appearance by which of the two it is affected; as a drooping aspect, for example, evinces pain and uneasiness, while a healthy and vigorous air denotes the enjoyment of well-being. Another argument, which has been stated against the existence of sensation in vegetables, is deduced from the goodness of the Deity; who, it is urged, would never bestow feeling on beings so much exposed to the depredations of animals, and various other injuries. The answer to such an objection is obvious; that the same reasoning would more forcibly maintain the non-existence of sensation in animals which prey on one another, and which are likewise exposed to innumerable accidents and injuries. We have seldom seen this view of the subject treated in a more impressive and becoming manner than in the pages of the present Essay, though the passage to which we allude is too long for our quotation. Lastly, many vegetable actions, and the means of defence with which plants are furnished, as prickles, stings, effluvia, &c., would lead us to infer that they are, moreover, endued with the principle of self-preservation. From this general view of the subject, it is evident that animals and vegetables reciprocally tend to the maintenance of a due balance of life through the whole creation; and the particular manner in which this is accomplished is one of those circumstances attending the institutions of nature, which cannot fail to convince us of the existence of a superintendent Providence. If there were not a check to the destruction of living beings, as well as to their undue increase, some of the species would soon be exterminated and if there were a chasm formed in consequence of the extinction of even the most insignificant species, the whole system would be thrown into confusion; all order would be at an end; and man himself would be at last incapable of resisting this seemingly trifling shock, and the whole living creation would soon be annihilated. ❝ each moss, Each shell, each crawling insect, holds a rank We must also bear in mind, that although the means of defence which nature has given to animals and vegetables, may not prove always effectual for their individual preservation; yet, millions of them go through the natural course of their existence, without having suffered from the depredations of their enemies. And even those individuals, which fall a sacrifice to the wants or the appetites of others, have for the most part enjoyed that portion of existence allotted to them, and experienced every degree of happiness of which their nature is capable. The microscope has discovered to us an innumerable multitude of beings, of whose existence we had no idea before; and though legions of these are daily devoured by the innumerable tribes of other animals that feed on the vegetables or fluids where these diminutive creatures abound; yet, can we reasonably imagine that such a profusion of living beings exists without enjoyment? Or, shall we suppose that sensation has been bestowed on them merely to swell the catalogue of sufferings, and multiply the sum of misery in the animal world? Such an idea is as revolting to reason, as it is incompatible with the infinite goodness of "NATURE'S GOD." We may, therefore, confidently believe that these diminutive beings have their season of enjoyment, as well as the enormous Leviathan, although perhaps only a few hours encircle the whole course of their appointed existence! • How How infinite then is that PoWER who could organize such an atom of matter, and give it life and motion! - and how transcendent in goodness, to endue it also with the means of enjoying its existence! And surely, that Being, by whom such things can be effected, can likewise bestow on vegetables a capacity to enjoy their own state of life; and by which, too, the sum of happiness in the universe will be abundantly multiplied!' Such is a faint outline of the train of Mr. Tupper's speculations: but the metaphysician and the physiologist, who would duly appreciate the weight and the catenation of his ideas, must resort to the pages in which they are recorded. - The additional observations are well calculated to corroborate his doctrines; and the doctrines themselves, without being highly fanciful or extravagant, are urged with singular modesty, and expressed in correct and elegant language. To the general spirit of the author's sentiments, and of the arguments by which he supports them, we cordially subscribe: but all his ingenuity has failed to convince us that brute animals are destitute of a certain degree of rationality and intelligence. To this latter topic, we have, on various occasions, incidentally adverted; and we cannot at present afford to discuss it in detail: but those persons, who have most diligently watched the manners of the brute creation, do not require to be informed of the diversities of talent and character which are exhibited by individuals of the same species, of the changes induced on their natural habits by domestication, of the educational acquirements of some of the most sagacious, of concerted plans executed by the more social tribes, of the tricks and stratagems practised by some birds to decoy the intruder from their young, of wonderful instances of memory in the horse, the dog, and the elephant, and of a change of conduct in the same individual wild animal, resulting from the observation and experience which are the consequences of age. Are such phænomena resolvable into the dictates of blind impulse, or instinct? The latter is, no doubt, a very convenient term: but it is, in many cases, a mere expression of our ignorance of motives, or of the origin of those proceedings which we cannot readily ascribe to the reasoning process. The Wolf was certainly never celebrated for his mental refinement, or for any uncommon share of sagacity; and yet, in the history of his life, we read a comment that will startle those who are strangers to his habits and practices. They who have been much addicted to the hunting of this animal have remarked a very sensible difference between the proceedings of a young and raw, and those of a full-grown and instructed individual of the species. Young wolves, after having passed two months in the litter, during which period they are fed by their parents, afterward follow their dam, which is no longer REV. MAY, 1814. E able able to answer the demands of their daily increasing voracity. In her society, and instructed by her example, they tear live animals in pieces, try their fortune in the chace, and gradually provide for the common wants of the family. The habitual exercise of rapine, under the guidance of an experienced mother, communicates to them, every day, some ideas relative to the pursuit of their object. They become acquainted with the retreats of their game; their senses are alive to all sorts of impressions, which they gradually discriminate; and they correct precipitate or erroneous judgments by the sense of smell. When they are eight or nine months old, their mother leaves. them to their own devices, and goes in quest of a male: but the young family still continue united for some time, till their ravenous propensities no longer admit participation of spoil. The strongest then remain masters of the spot, and the more weakly retire to seek subsistence in other quarters. When they surmount this critical period, their augmented strength and instruction multiply their facilities of existence; and they are enabled to attack large animals, one of which will afford them nourishment for several days. They carefully conceal the remnants of their repast, but without relaxing their zeal in the chace; and they have recourse to their hidden morsels only when the pursuit has proved unsuccessful. Such are some of the purely natural habitudes of the wolf: but they are wonderfully modified in those districts in which he dreads the approach of man; and in which the constant necessity of shunning snares, and providing for safety, compels him to extend the sphere of his activity, and to exercise his ideas on a greater number of objects. His procedure, which is naturally free and bold, now becomes circumspect and timid; his appetite is often unsatisfied, from fear; and he distinguishes the sensations recalled by memory, from those which are furnished by the actual use of his faculties. At the moment, therefore, when he scents a flock, confined in a park, the idea of the shepherd and his dog is also present to his thoughts; and, balancing the different impressions, he eyes the height of the inclosure, compares it with his strength, judges of the difficulty of clearing it when encumbered with his spoil, and desists from the fruitless or hazardous attempt: whereas, from a flock scattered in an open field, he will seize a sheep even in sight of the shepherd, especially if the neighbourhood of a wood favours his escape. Various other expedients, solely suggested by situation and circumstances, might be mentioned, which Mr. Tupper may perhaps be inclined to ascribe to spontaneous exertion: but this term involves in its very essence the notion of will, and will implies choice, deliberation, or acts of judgment. ART. |