Cleo. Yes, it is my choice now, either to run my head against the wall; or to let it alone; but, I hope, it does not puzzle you much to guess which of the two I shall choose.
Hor. But do not we move our bodies as we list; and is not every action determined by the will?
Cleo. What signifies that, where there is a passion that manifestly sways, and with a strict hand governs that will?
Hor. Still we act with consciousness, and are intelligent creatures.
Cleo. Not in the affair I speak of; where, willing or not willing, we are violently urged from within, and in a manner compelled not only to assist in, but likewise to long for, and, in spite of our teeth, be highly pleased with a performance that infinitely surpasses our understanding. The comparison I made is just, in every part of it; for the most loving, and, if you will, the most sagacious couple you can conceive, are as ignorant in the mystery of generation, nay, must remain, after having had twenty children together, as much uninformed, and as little conscious of nature’s transactions, and what has been wrought within them, as inanimate utensils are of the most mystic and most ingenious operations they have been employed in.
Hor. I do not know any man more expert in tracing human pride, or more severe in humbling it than yourself; but when the subject comes in your way, you do not know how to leave it. I wish you would, at once, go over to the origin of society; which, how to derive, or bring about at all, from the savage family, as we left it, is past my skill. It is impossible but those children, when they grew up, would quarrel on innumerable occasions: if men had but three appetites to gratify, that are the most obvious, they could never live together in peace, without government: for though they all paid a deference to the father, yet if he was a man void of all prudence, that could give them no good rules to walk by, I am persuaded that they would live in a perpetual state of war; and the more numerous his offspring grew, the more the old savage would be puzzled between his desire and incapacity of government. As they increased in numbers, they would be forced to extend their limits, and the spot they were born upon would not hold them long: nobody would be willing to leave his native vale, especially if it was a fruitful one. The more I think upon it, and the more I look into such multitudes, the less I can conceive which way they could ever be formed into a society.
Cleo. The first thing that could make man associate, would be common danger, which unites the greatest enemies: this danger they would certainly be in, from wild beasts, considering that no uninhabited country is without them, and the defenceless condition in which men come into the world. This often must have been a cruel article, to prevent the increase of our species.
Hor. The supposition then, that this wild man, with his progeny, should for fifty years live undisturbed, is not very probable; and I need not trouble myself about our savages being embarrassed with too numerous an offspring.
Cleo. You say right; there is no probability, that a man and his progeny, all unarmed, should so long escape the ravenous hunger of beasts of prey, that are to live upon what animals they can get; that leave no place unsearched, nor pains untried, to come at food, though with the hazard of their lives. The reason why I made that supposition, was to show you, first, the improbability that a wild and altogether untaught man should have the knowledge and discretion which Sir William Temple gives him; secondly, that children who conversed with their own species, though they were brought up by savages, would be governable; and consequently, that all such, when come to maturity, would be fit for society, how ignorant and unskilful soever their parents might have been.
Hor. I thank you for it; for it has shown me, that the very first generation of the most brutish savages, was sufficient to produce sociable creatures; but that to produce a man fit to govern others, much more was required.