“That certainly _was_ the orthodox view, a generation ago,” said the Earl. “The truth of Religion seemed ready to stand or fall with the assertion that Man was the only reasoning animal. But that is at an end now. Man can still claim _certain_ monopolies—for instance, such a use of _language_ as enables us to utilise the work of many, by ‘division of labour.’ But the belief, that we have a monopoly of _Reason_, has long been swept away. Yet no catastrophe has followed. As some old poet says, ‘_God is where he was_.’” “Most religious believers would _now_ agree with Bishop Butler,” said I, “and not reject a line of argument, even if it led straight to the conclusion that animals have some kind of _soul_, which survives their bodily death.” “I _would_ like to know _that_ to be true!” Lady Muriel exclaimed. “If only for the sake of the poor horses. Sometimes I’ve thought that, if anything _could_ make me cease to believe in a God of perfect justice, it would be the sufferings of horses—without guilt to deserve it, and without any compensation!” “It is only part of the great Riddle,” said the Earl, “why innocent beings _ever_ suffer. It _is_ a great strain on Faith—but not a _breaking_ strain, I think.” “The sufferings of _horses_,” I said, “are chiefly caused by _Man’s_ cruelty. So _that_ is merely one of the many instances of Sin causing suffering to others than the Sinner himself. But don’t you find a _greater_ difficulty in sufferings inflicted by animals upon each other? For instance, a cat playing with a mouse. Assuming it to have no _moral_ responsibility, isn’t that a greater mystery than a man over-driving a horse?” “I think it _is_,” said Lady Muriel, looking a mute appeal to her father. “What right have we to make that assumption?” said the Earl. “_Many_ of our religious difficulties are merely deductions from unwarranted assumptions. The wisest answer to most of them, is, I think, ‘_behold, we know not anything_.’” “You mentioned ‘division of labour,’ just now,” I said. “Surely it is carried to a wonderful perfection in a hive of bees?” “So wonderful—so entirely super-human—” said the Earl, “and so entirely inconsistent with the intelligence they show in other ways—that I feel no doubt at all that it is _pure_ Instinct, and _not_, as some hold, a very high order of Reason. Look at the utter stupidity of a bee, trying to find its way out of an open window! It _doesn’t_ try, in any reasonable sense of the word: it simply bangs itself about! We should call a puppy _imbecile_, that behaved so. And yet we are asked to believe that its intellectual level is above Sir Isaac Newton!” “Then you hold that _pure_ Instinct contains no _Reason_ at all?” “On the contrary,” said the Earl, “I hold that the work of a bee-hive involves Reason of the _highest_ order. But none of it is done by the _Bee_. _God_ has reasoned it all out, and has put into the mind of the Bee the _conclusions_, only, of the reasoning process.”