AS man becomes civilized and improved, other animals are repressed and degraded. Reduced to servitude, or treated as rebels, and dispersed by force, all their societies are dissolved, and their talents rendered nugatory; their arts have disappeared, and they now retain nothing but their solitary instincts, or those foreign habits which they have acquired by example or human education. For this reason there remain no traces of their ancient talents and industry, except in those countries where man is a stranger, and where, undisturbed by him for a long succession of ages, they have freely exercised their natural talents, brought them to their limited perfection and been capable of uniting in their common designs. The beaver seems to be the only remaining monument of that intelligence in brutes, which though infinitely inferior in principle to that of man, supposes common projects and relative views; projects which having society for their basis, and for their object the construction of a dike, the erection of a residence, or the foundation of a republic, imply some method of understanding each other, and of acting in concert.
The beaver is said to be among quadrupeds what the bee is among insects. Of societies there are three species in nature which we ought to consider attentively before we begin to compare them; namely, the free society of man, to which, next to God, he is indebted for all his power; the constrained society of large animals, always rendered transitory by the human species; and the forced society of certain little animals, which, coming into existence at one time, and in the same place, are obliged to live together. An individual, solitary as he comes from the hands of the Creator, is a sterile being, whose industry is confined to the use of his senses; nor is man himself, in a state of pure nature, unassisted by the aids of society, capable of multiplying or of being edified. All society, on the contrary, necessarily becomes fruitful, provided it be composed of beings of the same nature. From the necessity of seeking or avoiding each other, a succession of common movements will follow, from which frequently some work will result that has the appearance of having been conceived, conducted, and executed with intelligence. Thus the labours of the bee, which in a given place, such as a hive, or the hollow of an old tree, forms its own cell; those of the Cayenne fly, which is not only the architect of its own cell but the hive which is to contain it, are labours purely mechanical, and suppose no intelligence, no concerted project, no general views, but nothing more than physical necessities. A result of common movements, is at all times and places, performed in the same manner, by a swarm of little creatures not assembled from choice, but united by the force of nature. It is not society but numbers that operate in this case; it is a blind power which cannot be compared to that light by which all society is directed; I speak not of that pure light, that ray of divinity which has been communicated to man alone, and of which the beaver is certainly as destitute as any other animal. As their society is formed rather by a kind of choice than necessity, so it supposes at least a general concurrence and common views; it implies also a beam of intelligence, which, though widely different from that of man in principle, produces effects so similar as to warrant a comparison, not indeed with society, as it is found among civilized nations, but as it appears among savages just emerging from absolute solitude; a society which, with propriety, can alone be compared with that of animals.
Let us then examine the produce of these societies, let us inquire how far the art of the savage extends, and where the talents of the beaver is limited. To break down a branch, to use it as a staff, to build a hut and cover it with leaves for shelter, to collect moss or hay, and to make a bed of them, are acts common to the animal and to the savage. To rub a stone so as to render it an edged instrument for cutting or stripping the bark of trees, for sharpening arrows, for flaying an animal, in order to make a covering of its skin; to make bow-strings of its sinews, to fix those sinews to a thorn or bone, and use them as needles and thread, these are acts which may all be performed by a man in a state of solitude, and without assistance from others, since they depend solely on his conformation, and only suppose him to have the use of his hands. But, to cut down, and transport a large tree, to raise a mole, or build a village, are, on the contrary, operations which necessarily suppose common labours and concerted views; these are the only performances which result from immature society in savage nations; while the operations of the beavers are the fruits of a perfected society among those animals; for it is to be observed, that they never attempt to build but in countries where they are in no danger of having their tranquillity interrupted.
There are beavers in Languedoc, in the islands of the Rhone, and many in the northern provinces of Europe; but as all those countries are inhabited, or at least frequented by men, the beavers there, as well as all other animals, are dispersed, forlorn, and timid creatures. There they have never been known to assemble, or undertake any common work: whereas in desert regions, where human society was formed later, where some few vestiges of savages alone could be traced, beavers were every where seen united, forming societies, and constructing works which were the admiration of every beholder. Of this I shall endeavour to quote such testimonies as are most judicious and least liable to censure, and shall only consider as certain those facts which are confirmed by common consent. Less inclined to indulge admiration, perhaps, than some writers, I shall not hesitate to doubt, and even to criticise, whatever may seem too improbable to demand our belief.
It is generally allowed that the beaver, far from having a superiority over other animals, seems to be inferior to many of them, in his merely individual qualities; and this fact I am enabled to confirm, by having had a young beaver, which was sent me from Canada, in 1758, alive in my possession for more than a twelvemonth. This animal is mild, peaceable, and familiar; it is rather inclined to be gloomy and melancholy; it has no violent or vehement passions, its movements are slow, it makes few efforts, unless to gain its liberty, which it frequently attempts by gnawing the gate of its prison, but without violence or precipitation. In other respects it seems to be perfectly indifferent, forming no attachments,[Q] and is as little inclined to offend as to please. He is inferior to the dog in the relative qualities which might make him approach to man; he appears formed neither to serve, command, or even to associate with any species but his own. His talents are repressed by solitude, and it is by society with his own kind they are brought into action. When alone he has little industry, few tricks, and not sufficient distrust to avoid the most obvious snares. Far from attacking any other animal, he has scarcely art to defend himself; always preferring flight to combat, he only resists when driven to an extremity, and then bites very hard with his teeth.
[Q] M. Klein, however, says that he kept a beaver for several years, which followed and would go in quest of him, as dogs search for their masters.
If then we consider this animal, in a state of nature, or rather in his dispersed and solitary state, we shall find that his internal qualities are not superior to other animals; he has not the genius of a dog, the sense of an elephant, nor the cunning of a fox; and he is rather remarkable for external singularities than for any apparent superiority of internal qualities. The beaver is the only animal who has a flat, oval tail, covered with scales, which serves as a rudder to direct his course in the water; the only one that has his hind-feet webbed, and the toes of his fore-feet separate, which he uses to convey food to his mouth; the only one which resembles a land animal in the fore parts, and approaches the nature of an aquatic one in the hinder, in short he forms the same shade between quadrupeds and fishes, as the bat forms between quadrupeds and birds. But these singularities would be rather defects than perfections, if the beaver did not derive from this conformation peculiar advantages which render him superior to all other animals.
The beavers begin to assemble in June or July in order to form themselves into a society. They arrive in numbers from all sides, and soon form a company of two or three hundred; the place of meeting is generally that where they intend to fix their abode, and is always by the side of some lake or river. If it be a lake wherein the waters always remain upon a level they dispense with making a dam; but if it be a running stream, subject to floods and falls, they build a bank or pier quite across so as to secure a piece of water always at the same height, and this bank is frequently from 80 to 100 feet long, and ten or twelve thick at the base. If we compare the greatness of the work with the size[R] of the architect, it will appear enormous, but the solidity with which it is constructed is still more astonishing. They commonly choose that part of the river which is most shallow, and if possible, where some large tree is growing by the side of the stream; this they instantly set about cutting down, and although it is sometimes much thicker than a man’s body, they very soon accomplish it without any other instrument than their four incisive teeth; and they always contrive to make it fall across the stream; they next cut off the top branches to make it lie level. These operations are performed in common. Several are employed at the foot of the tree in gnawing it down, others sever the branches, while others are, at the same time, engaged in parties along the banks of the river in cutting smaller trees, from the size of a man’s leg to that of his thigh; these being cut to a certain length, they drag, by land, to the brink of the river, and then by water to the place allotted for their building; having pointed them at one end, they sink them down at small distances from each other, and then interweave them with pliant branches; the placing of these piles is the most difficult part of their operations, but they accomplish it by one party supporting the thick end with their teeth, while others plunge to the bottom and dig holes with their feet to receive the points that they may stand upright. While some are thus employed, others bring earth and clay, which they prepare for their purpose with their feet and tails; and they transport it in such large quantities, that they block up all the intervals between the piles. These piles are formed by a number of stakes in several rows, exactly of a height; they are placed opposite to each other, and extend across the river: that this embankment may sustain the weight of the water, it is made sloping, so that although it is twelve feet at the base, it is not more than three at the top; from which ingenious contrivance it has not only the requisite thickness and solidity, but also a form of others the most proper for confining the water, maintaining its weight, and baffling its attacks. Near the top of this bank they make two or three openings for the superfluous water to escape, and which they occasionally enlarge or contract as the river rises or falls; and when by any sudden inundations their work is damaged on the retreat of the waters they repair it with the utmost diligence.
[R] The largest beavers weigh from 50 to 60 pounds, and are seldom more than three feet in length, measuring from the tip of the nose to the insertion of the tail.
After this display of their public labours, it would be superfluous to add a description of their private constructions, were it not necessary that, in history, an account should be given of every fact, and where not this first great work of the beaver, made with an uniform intention to render their smaller habitations more commodious. These habitations are partly built upon piles on the banks of the river, and have two openings, one for the purpose of land, and the other for water excursions; they are either round or oval, and are of various sizes, from four to eight or ten feet in diameter; some of them consist of three or four stories, and their walls are about two feet thick, raised upon planks, which serve at once for foundations and floors. When they consist of but one story, the walls are only a few feet perpendicular, and then raised in a curve, which terminates in a doom or vault, and serves as a covering. They are constructed with such solidity as to be impenetrable to the heaviest rains, to defy the most impetuous winds, and are plastered with excessive neatness, both within and without, as much so as if they were actually done by the hand of man; yet they use no other instrument for the preparation of this mortar than their feet, or for its application than their tails. They chiefly use wood, stone, sandy earth, and such materials as are not easily dissolved with water; for the wooden work they take such trees as grow on the banks of rivers, which are more easily cut down, stripped of their bark, and carried, than solid timber, all which they are sure to accomplish upon a tree which they have once attacked. They begin to cut a tree at the distance of a foot, or a foot and a half from the ground, and they sit as they work, for besides the advantage of this convenient posture, they have the pleasure of continually gnawing fresh bark and soft wood, both of which they prefer to most other kinds of aliment; and of these they provide an ample store for their subsistence during winter[S], being averse to dry wood. It is in the water, and near their habitations, that they establish their magazines; there is one allotted to each cabin, proportioned to the number of its inhabitants, to which they have all a common right, and never plunder their neighbours. Some hamlets, if we may so call them, are composed of 20 or 25 cabins, but such large settlements are rare; generally they do not consist of more than ten or a dozen families, each of which has its own district, magazine, and habitation; nor will they allow strangers to come into their neighbourhood. The smallest dwellings contain two, four, or six; and the largest eighteen, twenty, and it is even asserted thirty beavers; and it very seldom happens, that the males and females are not of an equal number. Moderately speaking, therefore, their society may be said frequently to consist of 150 or 200, who having at first exerted their united industry in raising a great public work, afterwards form themselves into different bodies to construct private habitations.