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her master or mistress will interpret？ Once； in company with a
friend； I watched a cat playing with a house…fly in the window of a
ground…floor room。 We were in the street； while the cat was inside。
When we came up to the window she gave us one searching look； and；
having satisfied herself that we had nothing for her； went on with
her game。 She knew all about the glass in the window； and was sure
we could do nothing to molest her； so she treated us with absolute
contempt； never even looking at us again。
The game was this。 She was to catch the fly and roll it round and
round under her paw along the window…sill； but so gently as not to
injure it nor prevent it from being able to fly again when she had
done rolling it。 It was very early spring； and flies were scarce；
in fact there was not another in the whole window。 She knew that if
she crippled this one； it would not be able to amuse her further；
and that she would not readily get another instead； and she liked
the feel of it under her paw。 It was soft and living； and the
quivering of its wings tickled the ball of her foot in a manner that
she found particularly grateful； so she rolled it gently along the
whole length of the window…sill。 It then became the fly's turn。 He
was to get up and fly about in the window； so as to recover himself
a little； then she was to catch him again； and roll him softly all
along the window…sill； as she had done before。
It was plain that the cat knew the rules of her game perfectly well；
and enjoyed it keenly。 It was equally plain that the fly could not
make head or tail of what it was all about。 If it had been able to
do so it would have gone to play in the upper part of the window；
where the cat could not reach it。 Perhaps it was always hoping to
get through the glass； and escape that way； anyhow； it kept pretty
much to the same pane； no matter how often it was rolled。 At last；
however； the fly； for some reason or another； did not reappear on
the pane； and the cat began looking everywhere to find it。 Her
annoyance when she failed to do so was extreme。 It was not only
that she had lost her fly； but that she could not conceive how she
should have ever come to do so。 Presently she noted a small knot in
the woodwork of the sill； and it flashed upon her that she had
accidentally killed the fly； and that this was its dead body。 She
tried to move it gently with her paw； but it was no use； and for the
time she satisfied herself that the knot and the fly had nothing to
do with one another。 Every now and then； however； she returned to
it as though it were the only thing she could think of； and she
would try it again。 She seemed to say she was certain there had
been no knot there beforeshe must have seen it if there had been；
and yet； the fly could hardly have got jammed so firmly into the
wood。 She was puzzled and irritated beyond measure； and kept
looking in the same place again and again； just as we do when we
have mislaid something。 She was rapidly losing temper and dignity
when suddenly we saw the fly reappear from under the cat's stomach
and make for the window…pane； at the very moment when the cat
herself was exclaiming for the fiftieth time that she wondered where
that stupid fly ever could have got to。 No man who has been hunting
twenty minutes for his spectacles could be more delighted when he
suddenly finds them on his own forehead。 〃So that's where you
were；〃 we seemed to hear her say； as she proceeded to catch it； and
again began rolling it very softly without hurting it； under her
paw。 My friend and I both noticed that the cat； in spite of her
perplexity； never so much as hinted that we were the culprits。 The
question whether anything outside the window could do her good or
harm had long since been settled by her in the negative； and she was
not going to reopen it； she simply cut us dead； and though her
annoyance was so great that she was manifestly ready to lay the
blame on anybody or anything with or without reason； and though she
must have perfectly well known that we were watching the whole
affair with amusement； she never either asked us if we had happened
to see such a thing as a fly go down our way lately； or accused us
of having taken it from herboth of which ideas she would； I am
confident； have been very well able to convey to us if she had been
so minded。
Now what are thought and reason if the processes that were going
through this cat's mind were not both one and the other？ It would
be childish to suppose that the cat thought in words of its own； or
in anything like words。 Its thinking was probably conducted through
the instrumentality of a series of mental images。 We so habitually
think in words ourselves that we find it difficult to realise
thought without words at all； our difficulty； however； in imagining
the particular manner in which the cat thinks has nothing to do with
the matter。 We must answer the question whether she thinks or no；
not according to our own ease or difficulty in understanding the
particular manner of her thinking； but according as her action does
or does not appear to be of the same character as other action that
we commonly call thoughtful。 To say that the cat is not
intelligent； merely on the ground that we cannot ourselves fathom
her intelligencethis； as I have elsewhere said； is to make
intelligence mean the power of being understood； rather than the
power of understanding。 This nevertheless is what； for all our
boasted intelligence； we generally do。 The more we can understand
an animal's ways； the more intelligent we call it； and the less we
can understand these； the more stupid do we declare it to be。 As
for plantswhose punctuality and attention to all the details and
routine of their somewhat restricted lines of business is as obvious
as it is beyond all praisewe understand the working of their minds
so little that by common consent we declare them to have no
intelligence at all。
Before concluding I should wish to deal a little more fully with
Professor Max Muller's contention that there can be no reason
without language； and no language without reason。 Surely when two
practised pugilists are fighting； parrying each other's blows； and
watching keenly for an unguarded point； they are thinking and
reasoning very subtly the whole time； without doing so in words。
The machination of their thoughts； as well as its expression； is
actualI mean； effectuated and expressed by action and deed； not
words。 They are unaware of any logical sequence of thought that
they could follow in words as passing through their minds at all。
They may perhaps think consciously in words now and again； but such
thought will be intermittent； and the main part of the fighting will
be done without any internal concomitance of articulated phrases。
Yet we cannot doubt that their action； however much we may
disapprove of it； is guided by intelligence and reason； nor should
we doubt that a reasoning process of the same character goes on in
the minds of two dogs or fighting…cocks when they are striving to
master their opponents。
Do we think in words； again； when we wind up our watches； put on our
clothes； or eat our breakfasts？ If we do； it is generally about
something else。 We do these things almost as much without the help
of words as we wink or yawn； or perform any of those other actions
that we call reflex； as it would almost seem because they are done
without reflection。 They are not； however； the less reasonable
because wordless。
Even when we think we are thinking in words； we do so only in half
measure。 A running accompaniment of words no doubt frequently
attends our thoughts； but； unless we are writing or speaking； this
accompaniment is of the vaguest and most fitful kind； as we often
find out when we try to write down or say what we are thinking
about； though we have a fairly definite notion of it； or fancy that
we have one； all the time。 The thought is not steadily and
coherently governed by and moulded in words； nor does it steadily
govern them。 Words and thought interact upon and help one another；
as any other mechanical appliances interact on and help the
invention that first hit upon them； but reason or thought； for the
most part； flies along over the heads of words； working its own
mysterious way in paths that are beyond our ken； though whether some
of our departmental personalities are as unconscious of what is
passing； as that central government is which we alone dub with the
name of 〃we〃 or 〃us；〃 is a point on which I will not now touch。
I cannot think； then； that Professor Max Muller's contention that
thought and language are identicaland he has repeatedly affirmed
thiswill ever be generally accepted。 Thought is no more identical
with language than feeling is identical with the nervous system。
True； we can no more feel without a nervous system than we can
discern certain minute organisms without a microscope。 Destroy the
nervous system； and we destroy feeling。 Destroy the microscope； and
we can no longer see the animalcules； but our sight of the
animalcules is not the microscope； though it is effectuated by means
of the microscope； and