While I thus spake, the rest of the company looked hard upon me and wondered much that I should be able to hold such discourse, which, as they openly confessed, would have taxed the wits of a man of sense if he had been forced so to speak without preparation.
XII
Of the Sense and Knowledge of Certain Unreasoning Animals
So I ended my discourse thus: “Therefore,” said I, “my excellent master, will I not change with thee: for indeed I have no call to do so since the brook affords me a healthy drink instead of thy costly wines; and He who allowed me to be turned into a calf will also in such wise know how to bless the fruits of the earth to my use, that they be to me as to Nebuchadnezzar, no unfitting provision for food and sustenance: even so hath nature provided me with a good coat of fur; while as for thee, often thou loathest thy meat, thy wine splitteth thy head, and soon will bring thee into one sickness or another.”
Then my lord answered: “I know not what I have in thee; meseemeth thou art for a calf far too wise: nay, I do surmise thou hast under that calfskin clad thyself with a rogue-skin.”
With that I made as if I were angry, and said: “Do ye men think, then, that we beasts be all fools? That may ye not imagine. I do maintain that if older beasts could speak as well as I, that they would tell you a very different story. If ye deem we are so stupid, then tell me who hath taught the wild wood-pigeons, the jays, the blackbirds, and the partridges to purge themselves with laurel-leaves, and doves, turtledoves, and fowls with dandelions. Who teacheth cat and dog to eat the dewy grass when they desire to purge a full belly? Who hath taught the tortoise to heal a bite with hemlock or the stag when he is shot to have recourse to the dictamnus or calamint? Who taught the weasel to use the rue when she will fight with bat or snake? Who maketh the wild boar to know the ivy and the bear the mandrake, and saith to them it is their medicine? Who giveth the swallow to understand that she should heal her fledglings’ dim eyes with chelidonium? Who did instruct the snake to eat of fennel when she will cast her slough and heal her darkened eyes? Who teacheth the stork to purge himself, the pelican to let himself blood and the bear to get himself scarified by bees? Nay, I might almost say, ye men have learned your arts and sciences from us beasts. Ye eat and drink yourselves to death, and that we beasts do never do. Lion or wolf, when he is by way of growing too fat, then he fasteth till again he is thin, active, and healthy. And which party dealeth most wisely herein? Yea, above and beyond all this, consider the fowls of the air; regard the various architecture of their cunning nests, and inasmuch as all your labours can never imitate them, therefore ye must acknowledge they be both wiser and more ingenious than ye men yourselves. Who telleth to our summer birds when they should come to us for the spring and hatch their young, or for the autumn, when they should again betake themselves from us to warmer climes? Who teacheth them they must choose a gathering-place to that end? Who leadeth them or showeth them the way? Do ye men lend them, perchance, a compass that they fall not out by the way? Nay, my good friends, they do know the way without your help, and how long they must spend therein, and when they must depart from this place and the other, and therefore have no need of your compass nor your almanac. Further, behold the industrious spider, whose web is well-nigh a miracle: look if you find a singly knot in all her weaving. What hunter or fisher hath taught her how to spread her net, and when she hath laid that net to catch her prey, to set herself either in the furthest corner or else full in the centre? Ye men do admire the raven of whom Plutarchus writeth that he threw into a vessel that was half full of water so many stones that the water rose until he could conveniently drink thereof. What would ye do if ye were to dwell among the beasts and there behold all the rest of their dealings, their doings, and their not-doings? Then at all events would ye acknowledge ’twas plain that all beasts had somewhat of especial natural vigour and virtue in all their desires and instincts, as being now prudent, now strenuous, now gentle, now timid, now fierce, for your learning and instruction. Each knoweth the other; they discern each from other; they seek after that which is useful to them, flee from what is harmful, avoid danger, gather together what is necessary for their sustenance—yea, and at times do befool you men yourselves. Therefore have many ancient philosophers seriously pondered of such matters and have not been ashamed to question and to dispute whether unreasoning brutes might not have understanding. But I care not to speak further of these matters: get ye to the bees and see how they make wax and honey, and then come
