| Now,
in this indifference
and this total want of comprehension in which everything that surrounds
us lives; in this incommunicable world, where everything has its object
hermetically contained within itself, where every destiny is
self-circumscribed,
where there exist among the creatures no other relations than those of
executioners and victims, eaters and eaten, where nothing is able to
leave
its steel-bound sphere, where death alone establishes cruel relations
of
cause and effect between neighbouring lives, where not the smallest
sympathy
has ever made a conscious leap from one species to another, one animal
alone, among all that breathes upon the earth, has succeeded in
breaking
through the prophetic circle, in escaping from itself to come bounding
toward us, definitely to cross the enormous zone of darkness, ice and
silence
that isolates each category of existence in nature's unintelligible
plan.
This animal, our good familiar dog, simple and unsurprising as may
to-day
appear to us what he has done, in thus perceptibly drawing nearer to a
world in which he was not born and for which he was not destined, has
nevertheless
performed one of the most unusual and improbable acts that we can find
in the general history of life. When was this recognition of man by
beast,
this extraordinary passage from darkness to light, effected? Did we
seek
out the poodle, the collie, or the mastiff from among the wolves and
the
jackals, or did he come spontaneously to us? We cannot tell. So far as
our human annals stretch, he is at our side, as at present; but what
are
human annals in comparison with the times of which we have no witness?
The fact remains that he is there in our houses, as ancient, as rightly
placed, as perfectly adapted to our habits as though he had appeared on
this earth, such as he now is, at the same time as ourselves. We have
not
to gain his confidence or his friendship: he is born our friend; while
his
eyes are still closed, already he believes in us: even before his
birth,
he has given himself to man. But the word "friend" does not exactly
depict
his affectionate worship. He loves us and reveres us as though we had
drawn
him out of nothing. He is, before all, our creature full of gratitude
and
more devoted than the apple of our eye. He is our intimate and
impassioned
slave, whom nothing discourages, whom nothing repels, whose ardent
trust
and love nothing can impair. He has solved, in an admirable and
touching
manner, the terrifying problem which human wisdom would have to solve
if
a divine race came to occupy our globe. He has loyally, religiously,
irrevocably
recognized man's superiority and has surrendered himself to him body
and
soul, without after-thought, without any intention to go back,
reserving
of his independence, his instinct and his character only the small part
indispensable to the continuation of the life prescribed by nature.
With
an unquestioning certainty, an unconstrained and a simplicity that
surprise
us a little, deeming us better and more powerful than all that exists,
he betrays, for our benefit, the whole of the animal kingdom to which
he
belongs and, without scruple, denies his race, his kin, his mother and
his young.
But
he loves us not only
in his consciousness and his intelligence: the very instinct of his
race,
the entire unconsciousness of his species, it appears, think only of
us,
dream only of being useful to us. To serve us better, to adapt himself
better to our different needs, he has adopted every shape and been able
infinitely to vary the faculties, the aptitudes which he places at our
disposal. Is he to aid us in the pursuit of game in the plains? His
legs
lengthen inordinately, his muzzle tapers, his lungs widen, he becomes
swifter
than the deer. Does our prey hide under wood? The docile genius of the
species, forestalling our desires, presents us with the basset, a sort
of almost footless serpent, which steals into the closest thickets. Do
we ask that he should drive our flocks? The same compliant genius
grants
him the requisite size, intelligence, energy and vigilance. Do we
intend
him to watch and defend our house? His head becomes round and
monstrous,
in order that his jaws may be more powerful, more formidable and more
tenacious.
Are we taking him to the south? His hair grows shorter and lighter, so
that he may faithfully accompany us under the rays of a hotter sun. Are
we going up to the north? His feet grow larger, the better to tread the
snow; his fur thickens, in order that the cold may not compel him to
abandon
us. Is he intended only for us to play with, to amuse the leisure of
our
eyes, to adorn or enliven the home? He clothes himself in a sovereign
grace
and elegance, he makes himself smaller than a doll to sleep on our
knees
by the fireside, or even consents, should our fancy demand it, to
appear
a little ridiculous to please us.
You
shall not find, in nature's
immense crucible, a single living being that has shown a like
suppleness,
a similar abundance of forms, the same prodigious faculty of
accommodation
to our wishes. This is because, in the world which we know, among the
different
and primitive geniuses that preside over the evolution of the several
species,
there exists not one, excepting that of the dog, that ever gave a
thought
to the presence of man.
It
will, perhaps, be said
that we have been able to transform almost as profoundly some of our
domestic
animals: our hens, our pigeons, our ducks, our cats, our horses, our
rabbits,
for instance. Yes, perhaps; although such transformations are not
comparable
with those undergone by the dog and although the kind of service which
these animals render us remains, so to speak, invariable. In any case,
whether this impression be purely imaginary or correspond with a
reality,
it does not appear that we feel in these transformations the same
unfailing
and preventing good will, the same sagacious and exclusive love. For
the
rest, it is quite possible that the dog, or rather the inaccessible
genius
of his race, troubles scarcely at all about us and that we have merely
known how to make use of various aptitudes offered by the abundant
chances
of life. It matters not: as we know nothing of the substance of things,
we must needs cling to appearances; and it is sweet to establish that,
at least in appearance, there is on the planet where, like
unacknowledged
kings, we live in solitary state, a being that loves us.
However
the case may stand
with these appearances, it is none the less certain that, in the
aggregate
of intelligent creatures that have rights, duties, a mission and a
destiny,
the dog is a really privileged animal. He occupies in this world a
pre-eminent
position enviable among all. He is the only living being that has found
and recognizes an indubitable, tangible, unexceptionable and definite
god.
He knows to what to devote the best part of himself. He knows to whom
above
him to give himself. He has not to seek for a perfect, superior and
infinite
power in the darkness, amid successive lies, hypotheses and dreams.
That
power is there, before him, and he moves in its light. He knows the
supreme
duties which we all do not know. He has a morality which surpasses all
that he is able to discover in himself and which he can practice
without
scruple and without fear. He possesses truth in its fulness. He has a
certain
and infinite ideal.
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