passes in the mind of
anyone not ourselves, inasmuch as we are not that person. We never,
indeed, can obtain irrefragable certainty about this or any other
matter, but we can be sure enough in many cases to warrant our
staking all that is most precious to us on the soundness of our
opinion. Moreover, if the Professor denies our right to infer that
animals reason, on the ground that we are not animals enough
ourselves to be able to form an opinion, with what right does he
infer so confidently himself that they do not reason? And how, if
they present every one of those appearances which we are accustomed
to connect with the communication of an idea from one mind to
another, can we deny that they have a language of their own, though
it is one which in most cases we can neither speak nor understand?
How can we say that a sentinel rook, when it sees a man with a gun
and warns the other rooks by a concerted note which they all show
that they understand by immediately taking flight, should not be
credited both with reason and the germs of language?
After all, a professor, whether of philology, psychology, biology,
or any other ology, is hardly the kind of person to whom we should
appeal on such an elementary question as that of animal intelligence
and language. We might as well ask a botanist to tell us whether
grass grows, or a meteorologist to tell us if it has left off
raining. If it is necessary to appeal to anyone, I should prefer
the opinion of an intelligent gamekeeper to that of any professor,
however learned. The keepers, again, at the Zoological Gardens,
have exceptional opportunities for studying the minds of animals--
modified, indeed, by captivity, but still minds of animals. Grooms,
again, and dog-fanciers, are to the full as able to form an
intelligent opinion on the reason and language of animals as any
University Professor, and so are cat's-meat men. I have repeatedly
asked gamekeepers and keepers at the Zoological Gardens whether
animals could reason and converse with one another, and have always
found myself regarded somewhat contemptuously for having even asked
the question. I once said to a friend, in the hearing of a keeper
at the Zoological Gardens, that the penguin was very stupid. The
man was furious, and jumped upon me at once. "He's not stupid at
all," said he; "he's very intelligent."
Who has not seen a cat, when it wishes to go out, raise its fore
paws on to the handle of the door,
|