ABRIDGMENT OF THE CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE
BY Mr. Bonnet, of GENEVA

CHAPTER XI
OF THE INDUSTRY OF ANIMALS

  1. Hitherto we have scarcely considered animals in any other light, than with respect to the organization, and the immediate and general consequences of it. We will now contemplate their industry, which is still more interesting to us.

Some animals seem reducible to feeling only. Others have all our senses, and raise almost to understanding. The distance from the polypus to the ape appears enormous.

Imagination and memory are observable in divers species; imagination in their dreams; memory in the recollection of such things as have affected them. Places, persons, animate and inanimate objects are traced out in their brain, and they act agreeably to these representations.

The degree of knowledge in each species answers to the place it occupies in the general plan. The sphere of his knowledge extends to all cases which the animal may naturally meet. And if the animal happens to be drawn from his natural circle, and nevertheless is not entirely removed out of it, we may conclude that this new situation has a relation to one of the cases to which the sphere of his knowledge extends.

The way whereby animals vary their proceedings as necessity re quires, furnishes one of the strongest arguments against the opinion which transforms them into mere machines. The philosopher who attributes to them a soul, founds his judgment on the analogy of their organs with ours, and of their actions with several of ours. Those who make the soul material, forget that even feeling is incompatible with the properties of matter.

The greater the number of cases is to which the knowledge of an animal extends, the higher is this animal elevated in the scale.

The preservation of life, the propagation of the species, and the care of their young, are the three principal branches of the know. ledge of animals: but all are not alike to be admired in these respects.

The oyster knows only how to open and close its shell.

The spider spreads a net for his prey; waits like a huntsman, till some insect falls into the snare ; hardly has he touched it before be darts upon it. Is he armed, or too nimble? He fastens the lines to him with wonderful skill, and thus disables it either from flying or defending itself.

Divers species of animals live from day to day, without taking any thought for the succeeding day. Others seem endowed with a kind of foresight, construct magazines with abundance of art, which they fill with various kinds of provisions: such are the bee and the beaver.

Among animals that live by prey, some, like the eagle and the lion, attack with open force. Others, as the hawk and the fox, join craft to strength. Some save their lives by flight; others by hiding themselves under the earth or water; while others still have recourse to divers stratagems to facilitate their flight, and evade the pursuit of their enemy.

Those philosophers, who take a great deal of pains to define instinct, are not aware, that in order to do it, they should spend some time in the head of an animal, without becoming the animal itself. To say in general, that instinct is the result of the impression of certain objects on the machine, of the machine on the soul, and of the soul on the machine ; is to substitute terms that are a little less obscure, instead of a very obscure term: but the idea does not issue from the thick darkness that covers it. We well know what is not instinct, but are utterly ignorant what it is. It is not understanding or reason. The brute has neither our notions., nor our mean ideas; because it has not our signs.

2. At the same time that nature has taught divers animals the method of attacking and pursuing their prey, she has instructed them in that of self-defence or escaping. If we were conversant in the books of nature, we should there see, without doubt, that the profit always makes amends for the loss. A register of the births and deaths of some species puts this truth beyond all controversy.

The species which multiply most, have the greatest number of enemies. Caterpillars and vine-fretters are attacked as much within as without, by I know not how many insects, that are always bent on de­stroying the individuals, without being able to effect the destruction of the species. Many species seek their living or retreat in the inner part of the earth, or in that of plants and animals. Others build themselves nests or shells, with amazing art, where they pass their time is weakness and inactivity.

Some that are more skilful, can, like us, make themselves clothes and even procure matter for their nourishment. They strip our clothes and furs of their hairs, and make a kind of stuff of it, where with they clothe themselves. The form of their dress is very simple, but very commodious. It is a sort of muff or case, which they can lengthen or widen as they find occasion. They lengthen it by adding to each end new layers of silk and hair, and widen it as we do a glove, by cutting it in the middle according to the length of it, and by engrafting a piece. You may imagine that I am speaking of house-moths : field-moths, which clothe themselves with leaves, sur­pass them in industry.

Several kinds of fishes and birds change, at a stated time their dwelling places. We have seen numerous shoals of herrings and codfish, and flocks of geese, quails, and crows resembling thick clouds, that sometimes darken the air. By such periodical emigrations the. species are preserved, and in their long pilgrimages, nature is their pilot and provider.

3. The grasshopper, lizard, tortoise, and crocodile, furnish examples of animals that scarce take any care of their eggs, and are almost wholly unmindful of the young that are hatched from them. They lay them in the earth or sand, and leave the sun to communicate the warmth necessary for them. Shell-fish practice the same method: some spawn in the water; others between stones, or in the sand.

The instinct of the different species consists in depositing them in places where the young may find proper nourishment at their birth. The mothers commit no mistake with respect to that. The butterfly of the cabbage-caterpillar never lays her eggs on meat, nor the flesh-fly on the cabbage.

The gnat, that flutters in the air, was first an inhabitant of the water. For this reason, her eggs are always deposited in the water. The mass formed by them resembles a little vessel which the insect sets afloat. Each egg is in the form of a keel. All the keels are vertical, arid are disposed back to back. The gnat lays but one at a time. We cannot devise how she can cause the first egg or keel to remain in the water. Her method is nevertheless very simple, but much more ingenious. She stretches out her long legs behind her, crosses them, and by thus forming an angle of them, receives the first egg, and holds it at pleasure. A second egg is soon placed next the first; then a third, fourth, &c. The base of the pyramid thus widens by little and little, and at length is capable of sustaining itself.

Some species glue their eggs with great symmetry and propriety round the branches or small shoots of trees, like rings or circles. One would be apt to say, that so the skilful hand had been diverting itself in fitting pearl bracelets on the sprigs. A caterpillar, which from the distribution of its colours, is called livery, transforms itself into a butterfly, that disposes her eggs in this manner, and forms these pretty bracelets of them.

Other butterflies do still more: they strip themselves of their hair, and make with it a kind of nest for their eggs, where they lie soft and warm. Such in particular, is the industrious workmanship of the butterfly, proceeding from that called the common caterpillar, because it is in fact most common in these countries.

4. Certain species are so attached to their eggs, that they carry them about with them every where. The wolf-spider encloses hers in a little silk purse, which she bears on her hind part. Does any one destroy it, or take it from her? Her natural vivacity and agility aban­don her: she seems to fall into a kind of languor. Has she the happiness to recover the precious trust? She instantly seizes it, carries it away, and betakes herself to flight. As soon as the little spiders are hatched, they collect and arrange themselves skilfully on the back of their darn, who continues for some time to bestow her attention on them, and to transport them with her every where she goes.

Another spider lodges her eggs in a little silk purse, which she wraps up in a leaf. She fixes herself on this purse, and sits on her eggs with amazing assiduity. Another, to conclude, encloses hers in two or three little silk balls, which she suspends by threads ; but has the precau­tion to hang before, at a small distance, a little bunch of dry leaves, to conceal them from the inspection of the curious.

5. Divers species of solitary flies are not less to be admired, as well for their foresight in amassing provisions for their little ones, as for the art displayed by them in the nests they prepare for their recep. tion. The mason-bee, so called, because, like us, she understands the art of building, performs such works in masonry, as one would imagine must greatly surpass the strength of a fly. With sand, collected grain by grain, and glued together with a kind of cement much preferable to ours, she erects a house for her family; a very simple one indeed, but extremely solid and commodious. It is divided within into several chambers or cabins, on the back of each other, without any communication between them. One general foldage, a wall of enclosure, comprehends them all, and leaves no opening without. This wall must be broke before the apartments can be seen, and it is found to be as hard as a stone. These nests are very common on the fronts of houses : they there resemble little oval hillocks, of a differ­ent grey from that of the stone. The fly that is the architect of these buildings, deposits an egg in each chamber, and shuts up in it at the same time a stock of wax or paste, which is the nourishment appro­priated to her young.

Another fly which may be called the carpenter-bee, because she works in wood, likewise builds apartments for her family, but in a different taste from that of the mason. Sometimes she distributes them into stages; sometimes disposes them in a row. Ceilings, or partitions, artfully made, separate all these stages or chambers, and there is an egg deposited in each of them, with the quantity of paste necessary for the young.

6. These various kinds of work require in general less skill and genius than labour and patience. There is a very different degree of art and sagacity displayed in the nest constructed by another fly with single pieces of leaves only. This nest is a real prodigy of industry. When. it is taken to pieces, and narrowly examined in all its parts, one can. not conceive how a fly should be able to cut them out, turn, and put them together with so much propriety and exactness. When viewed. on the outside,. this nest very much resembles a tooth pick case. The. inside is divided into several little cells, in the form of a thimble, set in one another as thimbles are in a tradesman’s shop. Every thimble consists of several pieces, which are separately cut from one leaf, and whose form, circumference and proportions tally with the place each is intended to occupy. The same method is used with respect to the pieces that form the case or common cover. In a word, there is so much exactness, symmetry, uniformity, and skill in this little mas­terpiece, that we should not believe it to be the work of a fly, did we not know at what school she learned the art of constructing it. We may naturally conjecture that each thimble is a lodging for; a little one; but we could not have imagined that the paste which the mother pro­vides for it is almost liquid, and that the little cell, which is entirely composed of small pieces of leaves, is notwithstanding a vessel so well closed up, that this paste never spills, even when the vessel is stooped.

7. Many brutes act in concert with each other. A drove of oxen is grazing in a meadow: a wolf appears: they immediately form into a battalion, and present their horns to the enemy. This warlike dis­position disconcerts him, and obliges him to retire.

In winter, hinds and young stags assemble in herds, in the more numerous companies as the season happens to prove severe. They warm each other with their breath. In the spring they separate, the hinds concealing themselves in order to bring forth. The young harts remain together, love to walk in company, and are only parted by necessity.

Sheep that are exposed to the sultry heat of the dog-days, in an open plain, keep near each other, so that their heads touch; they hold them inclined towards the earth, and snuff up the fresh air which comes from beneath them.

Wild ducks that are accustomed to change their climate, range themselves in their flight in the form of a wedge, or an inverted V, that they may cleave the air with the greater ease. The duck at the extreme point leads the flight, and cleaves the air first of all. After a certain time he is relieved by another, the second in his turn by a third, &c. In this manner each bears a share in the laborious part of this office

8. Animals to whom the company of their own kind is useful, have been rendered fit for this commerce. And if the Author of nature bad man in view with respect to this particular, as we may without pride suppose, the means will be found to correspond perfectly well with the end. In effect, how many embarrassments and incon­veniences would have accompanied the divers services we deduce from domestic animals, if individuals of the same species had not power to cohabit together!

The spirit of society is not altogether limited to individuals of the same species, but extends likewise in a certain degree’ to those of different species, and from thence man also derives some advan­tage. The custom of seeing each other, of eating their meals in common, of reposing under the same roof, confirms the natural disposition of domestic animals to live in society. The connex­ions which result from it, become so much the stronger, as they begin earlier or nearer to their birth. Thus animals that are not appointed to live together, may, notwithstanding form a sort of society: the natural inclination each of them has to live with those of a like kind, is susceptible of modification or extension.

Every individual knows his like ; those of the same society like­wise know them. It is observable, that if strange fowls are brought into a poultry yard, those of the place will persecute them till cohabi­tation has made them members of the society.

The outside of the body exhibits divers characters, by means of which individuals of the same society may know each other, and dis­tinguish strange individuals. But among these physical characters, there may be some mixed ones, or such as belong as much to the soul as to the body, which the animals of the class we are treating of, are capable of seizing; such are the air, posture, gait. The individuals of that species which are not yet become familiar in their new habi­tation, seem fearful or embarrassed ; this fear or embarrassment detects them, and excites or encourages others to attack them.

That kind of society in which domestic animals live, gives room for a remarkable observation ; the young lamb distinguishes her mother from amongst three or four hundred sheep, although there does not appear to be any sensible difference betwixt them.

9. Nothing is more wonderful than those legions of flying creatures. that at a stipulated time pass from one to other very remote countries. What instinct assembles them? What compass directs them ? What chart points out their ‘way? We presently conceive that the change of season, and the want of suitable nourishment, advertise these different species of birds to shift their abode. But whence did they learn that they should meet with in other regions a climate and aliment proper for them? In order to be able to answer these questions, and all such as may be asked on this interesting subject, we should care fully examine every circumstance that attends the marches of them, birds. The degree of coki or heat that accelerates or retards them; deserves to be particularly attended to: for there is no room to doubt that they are most of all influenced by this. There is perhaps a secret relation between the temperature which suits with certain species, and that which is necessary for the production of food that nourishes them.

But we have not carried our inquiries deep enough into these different species of birds and fishes of passage.

10. Among the societies of brutes, improperly so called, some depend on chance, or on the agency of men, if not altogether, at least in part. It is not so with respect to societies, properly so called They do not owe their origin to any human act, but solely to nature, The members that compose them are not only united by common necessities, and that for a short time; but they are so by a much stronger tie, which subsists to the death of the animal, or, at least, during a considerable part of its life ; I mean, the natural preserva­tion of the individual, or that of its family. Both the one and the other are necessarily attached to the state of society. It is for this great end that these different species of social animals have been. instructed to labour in common on works so worthy of admiration.

Societies, properly so called, may be divided into two classes ; the first comprehends those whose principal end is limited to the preser­vation of individuals; the second, those whose scope is the preserva­tion of individuals and education of their young.

Several species of caterpillars, and some species of worms, belong to the former of these two classes; ants, wasps, bees, beavers, to the second.

The first class will have under it two principal sorts ; one of which will comprehend temporary societies ; the other, societies for life.

11. A butterfly deposits her eggs about the middle of summer, on the leaf of a plum-tree; the number of these eggs is three or four hundred. After some days, there issues from each of them a very small caterpillar. They are so far from dispersing themselves on the adjoining leaves, that they all continue together on that whereon they first received their being: the same spirit of society unites them. They apply themselves immediately in concert in the spinning of a web, which at first is very thin, but they afterwards make it stronger, by gradually adding new threads to it. This web is a real tent spread upon the leaf under which the young caterpillars shelter themselves.

As they increase in bulk, they extend their lodging by fresh layers of leaves and silk. The spaces contained between these layers are apartments, all of which communicate by doors made on purpose. In this nest they pass the winter, placed near each other, without motion, till the returning spring enlivens them, and invites them to bronze on the sprouting leaves. Lastly, towards the month of May, the society is dissolved; every caterpillar separates from his companion, and spends the remainder of his life in solitude. ‘Being then become stronger, a state of society is no longer necessary for them.

12. The caterpillars that live on the oak, and whose societies are much more numerous than those of the common, are very singular in their proceedings. They set out from their nest at sunset, and march in procession, under the conduct of a chief, whose motions they fol­low. The ranks are at first composed only of one caterpillar, after­ward of two, three, four, and sometimes more. The chief has nothing in him that may distinguish him from the rest, but by being the first, and that he is not constantly, because every other caterpillar may in his turn occupy the same place. After having taken their repast on the leaves around them, they return to their nest in the same order; and this continues during the whole life of the caterpil­lar. When they have arrived to their full growth, each forms for himself a cone, where it is transformed into a chrysalis, and after­ward assumes the form of a butterfly. These metamorphoses cause a new kind of life to succeed to the state of society, which is very. different from the primitive one.

This is an example of societies for life, whose principal end is the preservation of individuals.

13.  There are several kinds of caterpillars that are true republi­cans, and whose discipline, manners and genius, diversify them as much as those of different people. Some of them, like savages, make themselves hammocks, in which they take their meals, and even pass their whole lives. Others live like the Arabs and Tartars, in tents, which they erect in the meadows; and when they have consumed all the herbs that grew about them, they go away and pitch their camp elsewhere.

The nests which the republican caterpillars make for themselves are perfect retreats; they are screened in them from the injuries of the air, and are all closely shut up in times of inaction or idleness. But they go out at certain hours to seek their nourishment. They feed on the leaves which surround them, which they consume one after another. They often go to a great distance from their dwelling, and by different turnings. However, they can always find it again, when they have occasion. Nature has provided them with a method for regaining their lodging, which answers exactly to that used by Theseus for fetching Ariadne out of the labyrinth. We pave our ways; our caterpillars line theirs with tapestry. They flever but on silk carpets. All the paths that lead to their nest are covered with silk threads. These threads form tracks of a glossy white which are at least two or three lines in width. By pursuing the tracts in a row, they never lose their way, how intricate soever the turnings and windings of their passage may be. By putting a on the track, we should intersect the path, and throw the caterpillar into the greatest perplexity. They stop on a sudden at this place and express all the signs of fear and distrust. Their march is pended, till some caterpillar, more bold than the rest, crosses over the spoiled path. The thread she spreads in crossing serves bridge for the next to pass over. This in passing spreads another thread; a third another, and thus the way is soon repaired

Yet there is a great difference between the method of the republican caterpillars, and that of Theseus. They do not spread a carpet over their paths, to prevent their missing their way; but they do not miss their way, because they spread such a carpet. They spin continually, because they have always occasion to evacuate the silky matter, which their nourishment produces again, and which is enclosed in their intestines. By satisfying this want, they are assured of being in the right path, without attending to it. The construction of the nest is likewise connected with this want. Its architecture is adapted to the form of the animal, to the structure and exercise of his organs, and to his particular circumstances.

14.  Ants seek their provisions and aliment at a great distance from their abode. Various paths, which are often very winding and intri­cate, terminate at their nest. The ants pass over them in rows, without ever missing their way, any more than the republican cater­pillars. Like the latter, they leave tracks wherever they pass. These are not discernable to the eye ; they are much more sensible to the smell; and it is well known that ants have a very penetrating one. However, if we draw a finger several times backwards and forwards along the wall by which the ants pass and repass up and down in rows, they will be stopped on a sudden in their march, and it will afford some amusement to observe the perplexity they are in. It will happen in the same manner with regard to the processions of these ants, as has been before related concerning those of the cater­pillars.

15.  The sight of a bee-hive is certainly one of the finest that can offer itself to our eyes. There appears in it an astonishing air of grandeur. One can never be weary of contemplating these work­shops, where thousands of labourers are constantly employed in different works. We are struck in a particular manner with the geometrical exactness of their works; as we likewise are at the sight of their magazines. which are replenished with every thing necessary for the support of the society during the rigorous season. We like. wise stop with pleasure to behold the young ones in their cradles, and to observe the tender care of their nursing mothers towards them.

But what chiefly attracts the attention, is the queen: the slowness I had almost said gravity, of her march, her stature, which is a more advantageous one than that of the other bees, and, above all, the various homage paid her by the rest. We can scarcely believe what our eyes are witnesses of, in the regard and assiduities of the neuters for this beloved queen. But our amazement is greatly heightened when we see these laborious, active insects, entirely cease from their labour, and suffer themselves to perish, as soon as they are deprived of their sovereign.

By what secret engagement, by what law superior to that whereby each individual provides for its own preservation, are the bees attach­ed to their queen in such a degree, as absolutely to neglect the care of their own lives, when they happen to be separated from her? This law seems to be nothing more than the grand principle of the pre­servation of the species: the neuters do not engender; but they know that the queen enjoys that faculty: they construct those cells, whose proportions we so much admire, for the reception of the eggs she is ready to lay. Nature has instructed them as much with regard to the young that is to be hatched from them, as she has the mothers of other animals in favour of their offspring.

16. Of all animals that live in society, none approach nearer to human understanding than beavers. We are at a loss to determine what is most worthy of admiration in their labours, whether the gran­deur and solidity of the undertaking, or prodigious art, fine views, and general design, to excellently displayed throughout every part of their execution. A society of beavers seem to be an academy of engineers, that proceed on rational plans, which they rectify or modify as they judge necessary, pursuing them with as much constan­cy as precision; all are animated by the same spirit, and unite their will and strength for the promoting one common end, which is always the general good of the society. In a word, we must be witnesses of their performances, before we can judge them capable of them. A traveller that is ignorant of them, and happens to meet with their habitations, will think he is among a nation of very industrious savages.

The mole or bank which they raise, is a work of immense labour, and it is inconceivable how brutes are able to project, begin, and complete it. Represent to yourself a river of fourscore or a hundred feet in width. The first business is, to break the force of the current. The beavers then throw up a bank or causeway eighty or a hundred feet in length. by ten or twelve feet at its base. Nothing is more certain than this, nor less likely: and when we have repeatedly seen it, we are still willing to renew our inspection of it, in order to enforce our belief.

The most considerable towns of the beavers consist of twenty or twenty-five lodgments, though such are but rare. The most common have only ten or twelve. Each republic has its peculiar district, and admits of no accidental guests.

When any great inundations damage the edifices of the beavers, all the societies, without exception, unite together for making the necessary repairs. If hunters declare a cruel war against them, and entirely destroy their banks and cottages, they disperse themselves about the country, betake themselves to a solitary life, dig burrows or trenches under ground, and never show any marks of that industry we have been admiring.

17. Beavers seem to be formed with a view to confound our reasonings. Their associating themselves into great bodies, for working in concert on their immense works; their separating into little families, or particular societies, charged with the construction of the huts; the nature of these works, their extent, solidity, propriety, and appropriation so conducive to one general end, comprehending such a number of subordinations; in a word, their almost perfect resem­blance with works erected by men with the same intent; all concur to give the labour of the beavers an undoubted superiority over that of the bees. In fact, to fell trees chosen on purpose, to lop them and cut off their projections, to make great cross pieces of timber of them, disposing them in their proper places; to cut smaller trees like stakes, plant several rows of these stakes in a river, and interlace them with branches of trees, in order to strengthen and connect them together; to make mortar, and with it solidly to compact the inside of the pile: and to all this add the form, proportions and solidity of a• great bank; to form sluices thereon, and open and shut them according to the water’s elevation or abatement; to build behind the bank little houses, one or more stories high, founded on an entire pile-work; to build them solidly without, and incrust or cement them within by a layer of plaster, applied with equal exactness and pro­priety; to cover the flooring with a verdant tapestry; to contrive lights and outlets in the walls for different purposes; to erect magazines and supply them with provisions; to repair with diligence whatever breaches may happen to the public works, and reunite themselves into one grand body for the effecting in common these reparations: are astonishing marks of industry, which seem to imply in the beavers a ray of that light, which raises man so far above the rest of the animal creation.

Chapter 12