Cynics often speak of the disillusioning effects of experience, but I for one have found that nearly all things not evil are better in experience than in theory. Take, for example, the innovation which I have of late introduced into my domestic life; he is a four-legged innovation in the shape of an Aberdeen terrier. I have always imagined myself to be a lover of all animals, because I have never met any animal that I definitely disliked. Most people draw the line somewhere. Lord Roberts disliked cats; the best woman I know objects to spiders; a Theosophist I know protects, but detests, mice; and many leading humanitarians have an objection to human beings.
If the dog is loved he is loved as a dog; not as a fellow-citizen, or an idol, or a pet, or a product of evolution. The moment you are responsible for one respectable animal, that moment an abyss opens as wide as the world between cruelty and the necessary coercion of animals. There are some people who talk of what they call “Corporal Punishment”, and class under that head the hideous torture inflicted on unfortunate citizens in our prisons and workhouses, and also the smack one gives to a silly boy or the whipping of an intolerable terrier. You might as well invent a phrase called “Reciprocal Concussion” and leave it to be understood that you included under this head kissing, kicking, the collision of boats at sea, the embracing of young Germans, and the meeting of comets in mid-air.
That is the second moral value of the thing; the moment you have an animal in your charge you soon discover what is really cruelty to animals, and what is only kindness to them. For instance, some people have called it inconsistent in me to be an anti-vivisectionist and yet to be in favour of ordinary sports. I can only say that I can quite imagine myself shooting my dog, but cannot imagine myself vivisecting him.
But there is something deeper in the matter than all that, only the hour is late, and both the dog and I are too drowsy to interpret it. He lies in front of me curled up before the fire, as so many dogs must have lain before so many fires. I sit on one side of that hearth, as so many men must have sat by so many hearths. Somehow this creature has completed my manhood; somehow, I cannot explain why, a man ought to have a dog. A man ought to have six legs; those other four legs are part of him. Our alliance is older than any of the passing and priggish explanations that are offered of either of us; before evolution was, we were. You can find it written in a book that I am a mere survival of a squabble of anthropoid apes; and perhaps I am. I am sure I have no objection. But my dog knows I am a man, and you will not find the meaning of that word written in any book as clearly as it is written in his soul.
It may be written in a book that my dog is canine; and from this it may be deduced that he must hunt with a pack, since all canines hunt with a pack. Hence it may be argued (in the book) that if I have one Aberdeen terrier I ought to have twenty-five Aberdeen terriers. But my dog knows that I do not ask him to hunt with a pack; he knows that I do not care a curse whether he is canine or not so long as he is my dog. That is the real secret of the matter which the superficial evolutionists cannot be got to see. If traceable history be the test, civilization is much older than the savagery of evolution. The civilized dog is older than the wild dog of science. The civilized man is older than the primitive man of science. We feel it in our bones that we are the antiquities, and that the visions of biology are the fancies and the fads. The books do not matter; the night is closing in, and it is too dark to read books. Faintly against the fading firelight can be traced the prehistoric outlines of the man and the dog.
[This essay is excerpted from a Daily News article, later collected as “On Keeping a Dog” in Lunacy and Letters.]
Cynics often speak of the disillusioning effects of experience, but I for one have found that nearly all things not evil are better in experience than in theory. Take, for example, the innovation which I have of late introduced into my domestic life; he is a four-legged innovation in the shape of an Aberdeen terrier. I have always imagined myself to be a lover of all animals, because I have never met any animal that I definitely disliked. Most people draw the line somewhere. Lord Roberts disliked cats; the best woman I know objects to spiders; a Theosophist I know protects, but detests, mice; and many leading humanitarians have an objection to human beings.
If the dog is loved he is loved as a dog; not as a fellow-citizen, or an idol, or a pet, or a product of evolution. The moment you are responsible for one respectable animal, that moment an abyss opens as wide as the world between cruelty and the necessary coercion of animals. There are some people who talk of what they call “Corporal Punishment”, and class under that head the hideous torture inflicted on unfortunate citizens in our prisons and workhouses, and also the smack one gives to a silly boy or the whipping of an intolerable terrier. You might as well invent a phrase called “Reciprocal Concussion” and leave it to be understood that you included under this head kissing, kicking, the collision of boats at sea, the embracing of young Germans, and the meeting of comets in mid-air.
That is the second moral value of the thing; the moment you have an animal in your charge you soon discover what is really cruelty to animals, and what is only kindness to them. For instance, some people have called it inconsistent in me to be an anti-vivisectionist and yet to be in favour of ordinary sports. I can only say that I can quite imagine myself shooting my dog, but cannot imagine myself vivisecting him.
But there is something deeper in the matter than all that, only the hour is late, and both the dog and I are too drowsy to interpret it. He lies in front of me curled up before the fire, as so many dogs must have lain before so many fires. I sit on one side of that hearth, as so many men must have sat by so many hearths. Somehow this creature has completed my manhood; somehow, I cannot explain why, a man ought to have a dog. A man ought to have six legs; those other four legs are part of him. Our alliance is older than any of the passing and priggish explanations that are offered of either of us; before evolution was, we were. You can find it written in a book that I am a mere survival of a squabble of anthropoid apes; and perhaps I am. I am sure I have no objection. But my dog knows I am a man, and you will not find the meaning of that word written in any book as clearly as it is written in his soul.
It may be written in a book that my dog is canine; and from this it may be deduced that he must hunt with a pack, since all canines hunt with a pack. Hence it may be argued (in the book) that if I have one Aberdeen terrier I ought to have twenty-five Aberdeen terriers. But my dog knows that I do not ask him to hunt with a pack; he knows that I do not care a curse whether he is canine or not so long as he is my dog. That is the real secret of the matter which the superficial evolutionists cannot be got to see. If traceable history be the test, civilization is much older than the savagery of evolution. The civilized dog is older than the wild dog of science. The civilized man is older than the primitive man of science. We feel it in our bones that we are the antiquities, and that the visions of biology are the fancies and the fads. The books do not matter; the night is closing in, and it is too dark to read books. Faintly against the fading firelight can be traced the prehistoric outlines of the man and the dog.
[This essay is excerpted from a Daily News article, later collected as “On Keeping a Dog” in Lunacy and Letters.]
I cinici parlano spesso degli effetti disilludenti dell’esperienza, ma io, per parte mia, ho scoperto che quasi tutte le cose non malvagie sono migliori nell’esperienza che nella teoria. Si prenda, per esempio, l’innovazione che di recente ho introdotto nella mia vita domestica; è un’innovazione a quattro zampe sotto forma di un terrier di Aberdeen. Mi sono sempre immaginato d’essere un amante di tutti gli animali, perché non ho mai incontrato un animale che mi fosse decisamente antipatico. Quasi tutti tracciano un confine da qualche parte. Lord Roberts detestava i gatti; la donna migliore che io conosca ha in avversione i ragni; un teosofo di mia conoscenza protegge, ma detesta, i topi; e molti eminenti umanitari nutrono un’obiezione verso gli esseri umani.
Se il cane è amato, è amato come cane; non come concittadino, né come idolo, né come cucciolo da salotto, né come prodotto dell’evoluzione. Nell’istante stesso in cui ci si assume la responsabilità di un solo animale rispettabile, in quell’istante si spalanca un abisso vasto quanto il mondo tra la crudeltà e la necessaria coercizione degli animali. Vi è chi parla di ciò che chiama «pena corporale», e classifica sotto quella voce le orribili torture inflitte a sventurati cittadini nelle nostre prigioni e nei nostri ospizi, e insieme lo scapaccione che si dà a un ragazzo sciocco o la frustata a un terrier insopportabile. Tanto varrebbe bene inventare un’espressione come «commozione reciproca» e lasciar intendere di comprendervi il baciarsi, il prendere a calci, la collisione delle barche in mare, l’abbracciare giovani tedeschi e l’incontro delle comete a mezz’aria.
È questo il secondo valore morale della cosa; nell’istante in cui si ha un animale sotto la propria custodia, si scopre ben presto che cos’è davvero crudeltà verso gli animali e che cos’è invece soltanto benevolenza. Per esempio, alcuni hanno detto che vi era incoerenza in me nell’essere antivivisezionista e insieme favorevole agli sport ordinari. Posso solo dire che riesco benissimo a immaginare me stesso mentre abbatto con un colpo il mio cane, ma non riesco a immaginarmi mentre lo vivisezziono.
Ma in tutto ciò c’è qualcosa di più profondo di quanto non si sia detto; solo che l’ora è tarda, e sia il cane sia io siamo troppo assonnati per interpretarlo. Egli giace davanti a me, raggomitolato davanti al fuoco, come tanti cani devono essere giaciuti davanti a tanti fuochi. Io siedo da un lato di quel focolare, come tanti uomini devono essere seduti presso tanti focolari. In qualche modo questa creatura ha reso compiuta la mia virilità; in qualche modo, non so spiegare perché, un uomo dovrebbe avere un cane. Un uomo dovrebbe avere sei gambe; quelle altre quattro sono parte di lui. La nostra alleanza è più antica di ogni spiegazione passeggera e presuntuosa che venga offerta dell’uno o dell’altro di noi; prima che l’evoluzione fosse, noi eravamo. Potete trovare scritto in un libro che io non sono che una mera sopravvivenza di una baruffa di scimmie antropoidi; e forse lo sono. Sono certo di non avere nulla in contrario. Ma il mio cane sa che io sono un uomo, e voi non troverete il significato di quella parola scritto in alcun libro con la stessa chiarezza con cui è scritto nella sua anima.
Può essere scritto in un libro che il mio cane è canino; e da ciò si può dedurre che egli deve cacciare in muta, giacché tutti i canidi cacciano in muta. Se ne può dunque argomentare (nel libro) che, se possiedo un terrier di Aberdeen, dovrei possederne venticinque. Ma il mio cane sa che io non gli chiedo di cacciare in muta; sa che non me ne importa un accidente se sia canino o no, purché sia il mio cane. È questo il vero segreto della faccenda che gli evoluzionisti superficiali non riescono a farsi entrare in testa. Se la storia tracciabile è la prova, la civiltà è assai più antica della selvatichezza dell’evoluzione. Il cane civilizzato è più antico del cane selvatico della scienza. L’uomo civilizzato è più antico dell’uomo primitivo della scienza. Lo sentiamo nelle ossa d’essere noi le antichità, e che le visioni della biologia sono le fantasie e le mode. I libri non contano; la notte si fa fitta, ed è troppo buio per leggere libri. Debolmente, contro il fuoco morente, si possono tracciare i contorni preistorici dell’uomo e del cane.
[Questo saggio è tratto da un articolo del Daily News, poi raccolto col titolo «On Keeping a Dog» in Lunacy and Letters.]