SECT.  XIX.  Of Animals, Beasts, Fowl, Birds, Fishes, Reptiles, and Insects.

But let us turn our eyes towards animals, which still are more worthy of admiration than either the skies or stars.  Their species are numberless.  Some have but two feet, others four, others again a great many.  Some walk; others crawl, or creep; others fly; others swim; others fly, walk, or swim, by turns.  The wings of birds, and the fins of fishes, are like oars, that cut the waves either of air or water, and steer the floating body either of the bird, or fish, whose structure is like that of a ship.  But the pinions of birds have feathers with a down, that swells in the air, and which would grow unwieldy in the water.  And, on the contrary, the fins of fishes have sharp and dry points, which cut the water, without imbibing it, and which do not grow heavier by being wet.  A sort of fowl that swim, such as swans, keep their wings and most of their feathers above water, both lest they should wet them and that they may serve them, as it were, for sails.  They have the art to turn those feathers against the wind, and, in a manner, to tack, as ships do when the wind does not serve.  Water-fowls, such as ducks, have at their feet large skins that stretch, somewhat like rackets, to keep them from sinking on the oozy and miry banks of rivers.

Amongst the animals, wild beasts, such as lions, have their biggest muscles about the shoulders, thighs, and legs; and therefore these animals are nimble, brisk, nervous, and ready to rush forward.  Their jaw-bones are prodigiously large, in proportion to the rest of their bodies.  They have teeth and claws, which serve them, as terrible weapons, to tear in pieces and devour other animals.  For the same reason, birds of prey, such as eagles, have a beak and pounces that pierce everything.  The muscles of their pinions are extreme large and brawny, that their wings may have a stronger and more rapid motion: and so those creatures, though somewhat heavy, soar aloft and tower up easily to the very clouds, from whence they shoot, like a thunderbolt, on the quarry they have in view.  Other animals have horns.  The greatest strength of some lies in their backs and necks; and others can only kick.  Every species, however, has both offensive and defensive arms.  Their hunting is a kind of war, which they wage one against another, for the necessities of life.  They have also laws and a government among themselves.  Some, like tortoises, carry the house wherein they were born; others build theirs, as birds do, on the highest branches of trees, to preserve their young from the insult of unwinged creatures, and they even lay their nests in the thickest boughs to hide them from their enemies.  Another, such as the beaver, builds in the very bottom of a pond the sanctuary he prepares for himself, and knows how to cast up dikes around it, to preserve himself by the neighbouring inundation.  Another, like a mole, has so pointed and so sharp a snout, that in one moment he pierces through the hardest ground in order to provide for himself a subterranean retreat.  The cunning fox digs a kennel with two holes to go out and come in at, that he may not be either surprised or trapped by the huntsmen.  The reptiles are of another make.  They curl, wind, shrink, and stretch by the springs of their muscles; they creep, twist about, squeeze, and hold fast the bodies they meet in their way; and easily slide everywhere.  Their organs are almost independent one on the other; so that they still live when they are cut into two.  The long-legged birds, says Cicero, are also long-necked in proportion, that they may bring down their bill to the ground, and take up their food.  It is the same with the camel; but the elephant, whose neck through its bigness would be too heavy if it were as long as that of the camel, was furnished with a trunk, which is a contexture of nerves and muscles, which he stretches, shrinks, winds, and turns every way, to seize on bodies, lift them up, or throw them off: for which reason the Latins called that trunk a hand.

Certain animals seem to be made on purpose for man.  The dog is born to caress and fawn upon him; to obey and be under command; to give him an agreeable image of society, friendship, fidelity, and tenderness; to be true to his trust; eagerly to hunt down, course, and catch several other creatures, to leave them afterwards to man, without retaining any part of the quarry.  The horse, and such other animals, are within the reach and power of man; to ease him of his labour, and to take upon them a thousand burdens.  They are born to carry, to walk, to supply man’s weakness, and to obey all his motions.  Oxen are endowed with strength and patience, in order to draw the plough and till the ground.  Cows yield streams of milk.  Sheep have in their fleeces a superfluity which is not for them, and which still grows and renews, as it were to invite men to shear them every year.  Even goats furnish man with a long hair, for which they have no use, and of which he makes stuffs to cover himself.  The skins of some beasts supply men with the finest and best linings, in the countries that are most remote from the sun.

Thus the Author of nature has clothed beasts according to their necessities; and their spoils serve afterwards to clothe men, and keep them warm in those frozen climes.  The living creatures that have little or no hair have a very thick and very hard skin, like scales; others have even scales that cover one another, as tiles on the top of a house, and which either open or shut, as it best suits with the living creature, either to extend itself or shrink.  These skins and scales serve the necessities of men: and thus in nature, not only plants but animals also are made for our use.  Wild beasts themselves either grow tame or, at least, are afraid of man.  If all countries were peopled and governed as they ought to be, there would not be anywhere beasts should attack men.  For no wild beasts would be found but in remote forests, and they would be preserved in order to exercise the courage, strength, and dexterity of mankind, by a sport that should represent war; so that there never would be any occasion for real wars among nations.  But observe that living creatures that are noxious to man are the least teeming, and that the most useful multiply most.  There are, beyond comparison, more oxen and sheep killed than bears or wolves; and nevertheless the number of bears and wolves is infinitely less than that of oxen and sheep still on earth.  Observe likewise, with Cicero, that the females of every species have a number of teats proportioned to that of the young ones they generally bring forth.  The more young they bear, with the more milk-springs has nature supplied them, to suckle them.

While sheep let their wool grow for our use, silk-worms, in emulation with each other, spin rich stuffs and spend themselves to bestow them upon us.  They make of their cod a kind of tomb, and shutting up themselves in their own work, they are new-born under another figure, in order to perpetuate themselves.  On the other hand, the bees carefully suck and gather the juice of odorous and fragrant flowers, in order to make their honey; and range it in such an order as may serve for a pattern to men.  Several insects are transformed, sometimes into flies, sometimes into worms, or maggots.  If one should think such insects useless, let him consider that what makes a part of the great spectacle of the universe, and contributes to its variety, is not altogether useless to sedate and contemplative men.  What can be more noble, and more magnificent, than that great number of commonwealths of living creatures so well governed, and every species of which has a different frame from the other?  Everything shows how much the skill and workmanship of the artificer surpasses the vile matter he has worked upon.  Every living creature, nay even gnats, appear wonderful to me.  If one finds them troublesome, he ought to consider that it is necessary that some anxiety and pain be mixed with man’s conveniences: for if nothing should moderate his pleasures, and exercise his patience, he would either grow soft and effeminate, or forget himself.