certain sensations,
accompanied by the feeling of relation between the grain and its own
body; secondly, a desire of the grain; thirdly, a volition to seize it?
Or, are only the sensational terms of the series actually represented in
consciousness?

The latter seems the more probable opinion, though it must be admitted
that the other alternative is possible. But, in this case, the series of
mental states which occurs is such as would be represented in language
by a series of propositions, and would afford proof positive of the
existence of innate ideas, in the Cartesian sense. Indeed, a
metaphysical fowl, brooding over the mental operations of his
fully-fledged consciousness, might appeal to the fact as proof that, in
the very first action of his life, he assumed the existence of the Ego
and the non-Ego, and of a relation between the two.

In all seriousness, if the existence of instincts be granted, the
possibility of the existence of innate ideas, in the most extended sense
ever imagined by Descartes, must also be admitted. In fact, Descartes,
as we have soon, illustrates what he means by an innate idea, by the
analogy of hereditary diseases or hereditary mental peculiarities, such
as generosity. On the other hand, hereditary mental tendencies may
justly be termed instincts; and still more appropriately might those
special proclivities, which constitute what we call genius, come into
the same category.

The child who is impelled to draw as soon as it can hold a pencil; the
Mozart who breaks out into music as early; the boy Bidder who worked out
the most complicated sums without learning arithmetic; the boy Pascal
who evolved Euclid out of his own consciousness: all these may be said
to have been impelled by instinct, as much as are the beaver and the
bee. And the man of genius, is distinct in kind from the man of
cleverness, by reason of the working within him of strong innate
tendencies--which cultivation may improve, but which it can no more
create, than horticulture can make thistles bear figs. The analogy
between a musical instrument and the mind holds good here also. Art and
industry may get much music, of a sort, out of a penny whistle; but,
when all is done, it has no chance against an organ. The innate musical
potentialities of the two are infinitely different.

CHAPTER VI.

LANGUAGE--PROPOSITIONS CONCERNING NECESSARY TRUTHS.

Though we may accept Hume's conclusion that speechless animals think