Part 8

What is true with regard to the arts is the same as to sciences, only that the latter is less confined, because the mind is the instrument, and which in the former is subordinate to the senses. But in the sciences the mind commands the senses, as its only endeavour is to search into objects, and not to operate on them; to compare, and not imitate them. The mind, though thus cramped by the senses, though often abused by their false reports, is, notwithstanding, neither less pure nor less active. Man, who has a natural desire to knowledge, began by rectifying, and demonstrating the errors of the senses. He has treated them as mechanical organs, as instruments, the effects of which must be left to experience. Pursuing still his desire of knowledge, he has travelled on with the balance in one hand, and the compass in the other, and has measured both time and space. Thus, he has recognized all the exterior parts of Nature's works, but not being able to penetrate her internal parts by his senses, he has drawn his conclusions and formed a judgment of them by analogy and comparison. He discovered that there exists a general force in matter, quite different from that of impulsion; a force which does not come within the compass of our senses, and which, though we are unable to make use of, Nature employs as an universal agent. He has demonstrated, that this force belongs equally to all matter, in proportion to its mass or real quantity; that its action extends to immense distances, decreasing as the space augments. Afterwards, turning his eyes upon living beings, he found, that heat was another force necessary to their production; that light was a matter endowed with an unbounded elasticity and activity; that the formation and expansion of organized beings were the effects of a combination of all these forces; that the extension and growth of animal or vegetable bodies, follow exactly the laws of attraction, and are effected by an increase of all three dimensions at the same time; and that a mould, when once formed, must, according to these laws of affinity, produce a succession of others exactly resembling the original. By combining these attributes, common to animal and vegetable Nature, he discovered, that there existed in both an inexhaustible and reversible fund of organic and living substance; a substance as real as the unformed matter; a substance which continues always in its live as the other does in its inactive state; a substance universally diffused, passing from vegetables to animals by means of nutrition, returning from animals to vegetables by the process of putrefaction, and maintaining an incessant circulation for the animation of beings. He also remarked, that these organic particles existed in every organized body; that they were combined in greater or less quantities with dead matter; that they were more abundant in animals where all is full of life, and more scarce in vegetables where the dead matter predominates, and the living seems to be extinct; where the organic matter, overpowered by the rude, has neither progressive motion, sensation, heat, nor life, and is only manifested by its unfolding and reproduction. Reflecting on the manner each operates, he discovered, that every living being is a mould that possesses the power of assimilating the substances by which it is nourished; that growth is an effect of this assimilation, that the unfolding of a living body is not a simple augmentation of bulk, but an extension in every dimension, and a penetration of new matter into every part of the whole mass; that those parts increasing in proportion to the whole, and the whole in proportion to the parts, the form is preserved, and remains always the same till the growth is completed; that when the body has acquired all its extent, the same matter heretofore employed in the augmentation, is sent back as superfluous from every part to which it had been assimilated; and that, by uniting in one common point, it forms a new being, perfectly like the first, and which to attain the same dimensions, requires only to be expanded by the same mode of nutrition. He also observed that man, quadrupeds, cetaceous animals, birds, reptiles, insects, trees, plants, and herbs, were all nourished, unfolded, and reproduced by the same universal law; and that the manner of their nutrition and generation appearing so different, although dependent on one general and common cause, was because it could not operate but in a mode relative to the form of each particular species of being. To acquire these grand truths, required a succession of ages, and gradual investigation, but having obtained so much, he began to compare different objects together; and to distinguish one from the other, he gave them particular names, and invented general denominations to reunite them under one point of view. He observed, by taking the body of man as the physical model of every living animal, and by comparing and examining every living animal in their several parts, that the form of every thing that breathes is nearly the same; that the anatomy of a man and an ape are similar; that every animal has the same organization, the same senses, the same viscera, the same bones, the same flesh, the same motion of the fluids, and the same action in the solids. In all of them he has found a heart, veins, and arteries; the same organs of circulation, respiration, digestion, nutrition, and secretion; the same solid structure, erected with the same materials, and put together nearly in the same manner. This plan he found to proceed uniformly from mankind to the monkey, from the monkey to quadrupeds, from quadrupeds to the cetaceous animals, and so on to birds, fish, and reptiles. This plan, I say, when well comprehended by the human understanding, exhibits a faithful picture of animated nature, and affords the most simple and general view under which she can possibly be considered; and when we extend it by passing from the animal to the vegetable, we shall find this plan, which we at first found varying only by shades, degenerate by degrees from reptiles to insects, from insects to worms, from worms to zoophytes, and from zoophytes to plants; and though changed in all its exterior parts, nevertheless, still preserving the same character; the principal features of which are nutrition, expansion, and reproduction. These features are general and common to every organized substance, they are eternal and divine; and, far from being effaced or destroyed by time, are only renewed and rendered more plain and evident.

If, from this great picture of resemblances, in which the living universe presents itself as but one family, we pass to that of the differences, wherein each species claims a separate place, and a distinct portrait, we shall perceive, that excepting some of the larger species, such as the elephant, the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, the tiger, and the lion, every other seems to unite with its neighbouring kind, and to form groups of degraded similitudes, or genera, which our nomenclators have represented in a network of figures, some of which are connected by the feet, and others by the teeth, horns, hair, and others by still smaller affinities. And even the apes, whose form appears to be the most perfect, that is, approaches nearest to that of man, are represented confusedly, and require very accurate observations to distinguish one from the other, because the privilege of separate species is less owing to form than size. Man himself, although a single species, and infinitely removed from that of all other animals, yet being only of a middle size, has more approximations than the larger kinds. We shall find in the history of the orang-outang that if we were only to attend to the figure, we might look on that, animal either as the termination of the human species, or the commencement of the ape; because, except the intellect, he is not deficient in any one thing which we possess, and because, in his body, he differs less from man than from the other animals to which we have given the denomination of apes.

The mind, thought, and speech, therefore do not depend on the form or organization of the body. Nothing more strongly proves that they are peculiar gifts bestowed on man alone, than that the orang-outang which neither speaks nor thinks, has, nevertheless, the body, the limbs, the senses, the skull, and the tongue exactly similar to man. He can counterfeit every motion of the human species, and yet cannot perfectly perform one single act; which may possibly be owing to a defect of education, or perhaps yet more to an error in our judgment. You unjustly compare, it may be said, an ape, who is a native of the forests, with the man who resides in polished society. To form a proper judgment between them, a savage man and an ape should be viewed together; for we have no just idea of man in a pure state of nature. The head covered with bristly hairs, or with curled wool; the face partly hid by a long beard, and still longer hairs in the front, which surround his eyes, destroy his august character, and make them appear sunk in his head, like those of the brutes; the lips thick and projecting, the nose flat, the aspect wild or stupid; the ears, body, and limbs are covered with hair; the nails long, thick, and crooked; a callous substance like a horn under the soles of the feet; the breasts of the female long and flabby, and the skin of her belly hanging down to her knees; the children wallowing in filth, and crawling on their hands and feet; and the father and mother sitting on their hams, forming a hideous appearance, rendered more so by being besmeared all over with stinking grease. This sketch, drawn from a savage Hottentot, is still a flattering portrait, for there is as great a distance between a man in a pure state of nature and a Hottentot, as there is between a Hottentot and us. But if we wish to compare the human species with that of the ape, we must add to it the affinities of organization, the agreements of temperament, the vehement desire of male apes for women, the like conformation of the genitals in both sexes, the periodic emanations of the females, the compulsive or voluntary intermixture of the negresses with the apes, the produce of which has united into both species; and then consider, supposing them not of the same species, how difficult it is to discover the interval by which they are separated.

I acknowledge, if we were forced to judge by external appearance alone, the ape might be taken for a variety in the human species. The Creator has not formed man's body on a model absolutely different from that of the mere animal; he has comprehended his figure, as well as that of every other animal, under one general plan, but at the same time that he has given him a material form, similar to that of the ape, he infused this animal body with a divine spirit. If he had granted the same favour, not to the ape, but to the meanest animal, whose organization seems to us to be the worst of all constructed beings, this animal would soon have become the rival of man. Quickened by his spirit it would have excelled every other animal, by having the power of thought and speech. Therefore, whatever resemblance there may be between the Hottentot and the ape, the interval which separates them is immense, since the former is endowed with the faculties of thinking and speaking.

Who will ever be able to tell in what the organization of an idiot differs from that of another man? yet the defect is certainly in the material organs, since the idiot has a soul like another person. Now, since in mankind, where the whole structure is entirely conformable, and perfectly similar, a difference so trifling as to be entirely imperceptible is sufficient to destroy thought, we must not be astonished that it never appears in the ape, which has not the necessary principle.

The action of the soul in general is distinct and independent of matter. But as it has pleased the Divine Author to unite it with the body, the exercise of its particular actions depends on the state of the material organs; and this dependance is not only apparent from the example of idiots but from persons afflicted with delirium, from infants who cannot think, from healthful men when asleep, and from very old people, after the power of thinking is gone. Even the principle of education seems to consist not so much in instructing the mind, or bringing its operation to perfection, as in modifying the material organs, and putting them into the most favourable condition for exercising the thinking principle. Now there are two kinds of educations which should be carefully distinguished, as their effects are quite different; the education of the individual, which is common both to man and the other animals, and that of the species which belongs to man alone. A young animal, as well from incitement as example, learns in a few weeks to perform all the actions of its parents: a child requires a number of years to attain this degree of perfection, because when born its growth and strength is incomparably less forward than in young animals. In the first years the mind is a void relatively to what it becomes in future. A child, therefore, is much slower in receiving individual education than that of the brute; but for this very reason it becomes susceptible of that of the species. The multiplicity of aids, and the continual cares, which for a long time, the weak state of the infant exact, entertain and increase the attachment of its parents, and while they are attending to the care of the body, they cultivate the mind. The time required to strengthen the first, turns to the profit of the latter. In the generality of animals the corporeal faculties are more advanced in two months than those of an infant in two years; there is, therefore, twelve times as much time employed in its individual education, without reckoning what is still remaining to acquire after this period, without considering that animals quit their young as soon as they are able to provide for themselves, and that soon after this separation they know each other no more, so that all attachment, and all education, ceases in them at the very moment assistance is no longer necessary. Now this time of education being so short, its effects must be very small; and it is even astonishing that animals acquire in two months whatever is necessary for their use during the rest of life: and if we suppose a child, in an equal space of time, should become sufficiently formed and strong to leave its parents, and never to return to them for assistance, would there be any sensible difference between this child and the brute animal? However ingenious and able the parents were, could they be able to prepare and modify its organs in so short a space of time, or to establish the least communication of thought between their minds and his? Could they be able to excite his memory by impressions sufficiently reiterated? Could they even modify or unfold their organs of speech? No, for before the child can pronounce a single word his ear must have received repeated impressions of the sound expressing that word; and, before he can be able to apply or pronounce it properly, the same combination of the word, and the object to which it belongs, must be frequently presented to him. Education, therefore, which alone can expand the powers of the mind, will be unremittingly continued for a length of time; if it should cease, not at the end of two months, as in animals, but even when twelve months old, the mind of the child, which could have received no impression, would remain inactive, like that of an idiot, the defect of whose organs prevents the reception of knowledge. This reasoning would apply with double force if we suppose the child born in a pure state of nature, if it had only a Hottentot mother for its tutoress, and that at the age of two months it was able to separate from her, and live without her care and assistance:--would not this child be worse than an idiot, and entirely on a par with the brutes? But in this state of nature, the first education, that is, the education of necessity, exacts as much time as in the civilized state, because in both the child is equally weak, and equally slow in its growth, and consequently it has need of the care of its parents for an equal portion of time. In short, it would infallibly perish if abandoned before the age of three years. Now this necessary habitude, so long continued between the mother and the child, is sufficient to communicate to it all that she possesses; and though we should falsely suppose, that this mother, in a state of nature, possesses not any one gift, not even that of speech, would not this long habitude with her child produce a language? Thus this state of pure nature, wherein we suppose man to be without thought and speech, is imaginary, and never had existence. This needful and long intercourse of parents with their children produces society in the midst of a desart. The family understand each other by signs and sounds; and this first ray of intelligence, when cherished, cultivated, and communicated, unfolds, in the process of time, all the buds of thought; and as this habitual intercourse could not sustain itself so long without producing mutual signs and sounds, always repeated and gradually engraven on the memory of the child, would consequently become constant and intelligible expressions; though the list of words is short, it still forms a language, which will soon become more extended as the family increases, and will always follow the steps of society in improvement. Society being formed, the education of the child is no longer individual, for then the parents communicate to it not only what they possess from Nature, but also what they have received from their ancestors, and from the society of which they form a part. It is no longer a communication between detached individuals, confined like animals to the transmission of simple faculties, but an institution of which the whole species partakes, and whose produce constitutes the bond and basis of society.

Even among brute animals, though deprived of the thinking principle, those whose education is the longest are also those which seem to have the greatest share of intelligence: the elephant, who takes the longest time in completing its growth, and which requires the assistance of its mother for the whole of the first year, is also the most intelligent animal. The Guinea-pig, which requires only three weeks to accomplish its growth, and be in a generating state, is perhaps, for this reason alone, one of the most stupid animals in Nature. With respect to the ape, with a view to ascertain whose nature we have gone into this investigation, whatever resemblance he may bear to man, yet his affinity to the brutes is evident from the moment of his birth; he is then proportionably stronger, and more completely formed than the infant, and the time of his growth bears no comparison; the assistance of his mother is only necessary during a few months; his education is purely individual, and consequently as sterile as that of other animals.

The ape, therefore, notwithstanding his resemblance to the human form, is a brute, and so far from being second in our species, he is not even the first in the order of animals, because he is not the most intelligent among them; therefore it is only on account of the corporeal resemblance that prejudice has been formed in favour of the great faculties of the ape. He resembles man it is said both externally and internally, and therefore he must not only imitate us, but also of his own accord, act in the same manner as we do. We have seen that every action which we call human is relative to society: that they depend, at first on the mind, and afterwards on education, the physical principle of which is the necessity there is for the long intercourse between parents and children: that this intercourse is very short with the ape; that, like other animals, he only receives an education purely individual, and is not susceptible of any other; consequently he cannot act like man, since no action of the ape has the same principle, nor the same end. With respect to imitation, which appears to be the strongest and most striking character in the ape kind, and which the vulgar refer to him as a peculiar talent, before we decide, we must examine whether this imitation be spontaneous or forced. Does the ape imitate the human species from inclination, or from possessing an innate capacity of performing those actions without choice or exertion? I willingly appeal to all those who have observed this animal without prejudice, and I am convinced they will agree with me, that there is nothing voluntary in their imitation. The monkey having arms and hands, makes use of them as we do, but without any idea of copying our example. The similitude of his limbs and organs necessarily produces motions resembling ours; being formed like man he must be enabled to move like him; but this similarity of motion by no means proves that he acts from imitation. Let us, for instance, construct two pendulums of the same form, and give them an equal motion, would it not be absurd to say that these machines imitate each other? It is the same with respect to the ape, relatively to the body of man; they are two machines, similarly constructed, and by the impulse of Nature move nearly in the same manner: however, parity must not be considered as imitation; the one depends on matter, and the other exists only in reason. Imitation supposes a design of copying; the ape is incapable of forming this design, which requires a train of thought and judgment; for this reason, man, if he choose, can imitate the ape, but the ape cannot have an idea of imitating man.

This parity is no more than the physical part of imitation, and not so complete as the similitude, from which, however, it proceeds as an immediate effect. The ape resembles man more in his body and limbs than in the use he makes of them. By observing the ape attentively we shall perceive that all his motions are sudden, intermittent, and precipitate; and to compare them with those of man we must suppose a different model. Every action of the ape strongly partakes of his education, which is purely animal; and they appear to be extravagant, ridiculous, and inconsequential, because we judge of them by our own, which is a false comparison. As his nature is vivacious, his temperament warm, his disposition petulant, and none of his affections have been polished by education, all his habitudes are excessive, and more resemble the actions of a lunatic than those of a man, or even those of a peaceable animal: from the same reason we find him indocile, and receiving with difficulty the impressions we wish him to imbibe. He is insensible to kindness, and only to be rendered obedient through fear of chastisement. He may be kept in captivity, but not in a domestic state. Always sullen, stubborn, or making grimaces, he may rather be said to be subdued than tamed; therefore none of this species has ever been domesticated in any part of the world, and consequently is more distant from man than most other animals, for docility supposes some analogy betwixt the giver and the receiver of instruction; a relative quality, which cannot be exercised but when there is a certain number of common faculties in both, which only differ from each other because they are active in the master and passive in the scholar. Now the passive qualities of the ape have less relation to the active qualities of man than those of the dog or elephant, who only require good treatment to receive the kind and even delicate sentiments of a faithful attachment, voluntary obedience, grateful service, and an unreserved and ready attention to the commands of their master.