THE CONSCIENCE OF ANIMALS.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 631, 27 June 1876, Page 2

THE CONSCIENCE OF ANIMALS.

In an interesting article on this subject the Spectator makes the following remarks Mr Romanes certainly has one story which would agree very well with Mr Darwin’s theory, though not better than it would agree with any other ethical theory whatever, It is the story of a terrier of his own, which he speaks of as far surpassing “any animal or human being I ever knew in the keen sensitiveness of his feelings,” and which he assures us, “ was never beaten in his life,” so that the fear of physical punishment, at least, had nothing to do with his behaviour;— “ One day he was shut up in a room by himself, while everybody in the house where he was went out. Seeing his friends from the window as they departed, the terrier appears to have been overcome by a paroxysm of rage ; for when I returned I found that he had torn all the bottoms of the windowcurtains to shreds When I first opened the door, he jumped about as dogs in general do under similar circumstances, having apparently forgotten, in his joy at seeing me, the damage he had done. But when, without speaking, I picked up one of the torn shreds of the curtains, the terrier gave a howl, and rushing out of the room, ran up-stairs screaming as loudly as he was The only interpretation I can assign to this con* duct is, that his former fit of passion having

■ubslded, the dog was sorry at having done ’'what he knew would annoy me ; and not being able to endure in my presence the remorse of his smitten conscience, he ran to the farthest corner of the house, crying veccavi in the language of his nature.” Now there, if you please, it is quite possible to suppose that the more persistent social instinct returned upon the creature the moment the paroxysm of rage or despair was passed, and revenged itself for its temporary suppression during that paroxysm; but though that view is tenable, it is no more plausible than any other. No one can venturn to affirm that it was the mere persistency of the higher feeling, and not rather a power of perceiving that it was the less worthy feeling to which he had given way, which caused the dog’s remorse. We can only interpret the dog’s feelings from our own in similar cases—our own, at least, deprived as much as possible of their higher intellectual elements—and so interpreted, Mr Darwin’s explanation seems the less likely of the two. As far as we know, we seldom or never suffer true remorse, without having first gone through a moral conflict as to what we ought to do. It is not with us the anticipation of remorse which puts in a veto on a bad action, but the knowledge at the time that it is bad, which ultimately induces the remorse. Let us, however, quote Mr Romanes’s best and most instructive story of animal conscience, which really seems to go to the heart of the question as to the meaning of that conscience. It is a story of the same terrier, and before giving it, we should add that Mr Romanes solemnly assures his readers that in all the facts he narrates he carefully “avoids exaggeration or embellishment of any kind.” The story is as follows: — “ I had had this dog for several years, and had never—even in his puppyhood—known him to steal. On the contrary, he used to make an excellent guard to protect property from other animals, servants, &c., even though these were his best friends. [Mr Romanes here adds in a note “ I have seen this dog escort a donkey which had baskets on its back filled with apples. Although the dog did not know that he was being observed by anybody, he did his duty with the utmost faithfulness; for every time the donkey turned back its head to take an apple out of the baskets, the dog snapped at his nose ; and such was his watchfulness, that, although his companion was keenly desirous of tasting some of the fruit, he never allowed him to get a single apple during the half hour they were left together. I have also seen this terrier protecting meat from other terriers (his sons), which lived in the same house with him, and with which he was on the very best of terms. More curious still, I have seen him seize my wristbands while they were being worn by a friend to whom I had temporarily lent them.”J Nevertheless, on one occasion he was very hungry, and in the room where I was reading and he was sitting, there was, within easy reach, a savoury mutton chop. I was greatly surprised to see him stealthily remove this chop and take it under a sofa. However, I pretended not to observe what had occurred, and waited to see what would happen next. For fully a quarter of an hour this terrier remained under the sofa without making a sound, but doubtless enduring an agony of contending feelings. Eventually, however, conscience came off victorious, for, emerging from his place of concealment and carrying in his mouth the stplen chop, he came across the room and laid the tempting morsel at my feet. The moment he dropped the stolen property he bolted again under the sofa, and from this retreat no coaxing could charm him for several hours afterwards. Moreover, when during that time he was spoken to or patted, he always turned away his bead in a ludicrously conscience-stricken manner. Altogether I do not think it would be possible to imagine a more satisfactory exhibition of conscience by an animal than this : for it must be remembered as already stated, that the particular animal in question was never beaten in its life.”

Now, here we have several most important points for the determination of the question of the nature of conscience in this dog. This was not certainly a case of an easy victory of the stronger feelings of his respect or love for his master over the weaker feeling of hunger, for the hunger so far prevailed as to plunge the dog into the very act of theft, and even took him so far that he must have had the temptation at its very strongest when the mutton chop was really under the sofa, as well as within his mouth. If ever the less “ persistent ” impulse could be in the ascendant, it must have been then, and for a few momenta it was so far clearly in the ascendant that the dog yielded to the first temptation. But before this desire had really been gratified—while the gratification was still before it, and while the desire must have been at its very highest—either the dog’s respect for his master returned in a great rush and won the day, or else—and this seems to us far the more natural explanation—the dog made a great effort of will to ; resist the temptation presented to his appetite, and not only delivered up the chop, but made, as it were, an act of confession and contrition by placing it at his master’s feet, and doing voluntary penance for his fault, instead of making any attempt to restore the chop stealthily, and make as though he had never taken it. If ever there were a distinct moral action done by an agent unable to explain his own state of mind, this, so far as it is possible for us to interpret another creature at all, seems {to have been one. The temptation was resisted, and not only resisted, but confessed, and not only confessed, but penitence was vehemently expressed. It is impossible in this case to explain the remorse by the exhaustion of the impulse which led to the act repented, for the impulse was not exhausted, but was encountered and conquered in full swing.