“Why do people speak of that fear, then?”
“Simply for the malicious pleasure of adding one [[375]]more example of stupidity to the donkey’s account. Is it not agreed that the unfortunate beast has every possible whimsicality? Has not its very name become the favorite term to denote stupidity? All this is pure calumny; far from being the idiot it is called, the ass is a cunning beast, prudent, full of circumspection, as is proved by the care it takes in not drinking except from known springs already tested by use.”
“Why make such a fuss about drinking?” was Emile’s query.
“Why? Alas, my friend, evil sometimes befalls us for not exercising the donkey’s prudence in the choice of our drinking-water. The unknown spring whence we draw water may be too cold, unwholesome, full of injurious substances. Better advised than we, the ass will put its lips only to water known by experience to be wholesome.”
“And the ass is a hundred times right,” Jules declared.
“If I dared to, I should blame the ass for the passion it has for rolling on the ground, sometimes, alas, without any thought of the load it carries. But is it really the animal’s fault? Since nobody takes the trouble to curry the ass, to relieve the itching of its skin, it rolls on the grass and seems thus to reproach its master for neglect. Let the curry-comb and the brush keep its back clean, and the donkey will cease trying to rub itself, all four legs in the air, against the prickly foliage of the thistles. It is the accumulation of dust and dirt that torments it, [[376]]not parasites, for of all hairy animals the ass is the least subject to vermin. It never has lice, apparently on account of the hardness and dryness of its skin, which is in fact harder than that of most other quadrupeds. For the same reason it is much less sensitive than the horse to the whip and to the sting of flies.
“When overloaded, it lies on its stomach and refuses to move, determined to let itself be beaten to death rather than get up. ‘Oh, the stubborn brute! Oh, the stupid ass!’ cries the master; and down comes the stick. Is it stubbornness on the animal’s part to refuse to work? Listen first to a short story. In the old days of the Roman Empire a man of profound wisdom, Epictetus, was a slave in the house of a brutal master. One day the latter beat him unmercifully with his cane. ‘Master,’ said Epictetus to him, ‘I warn you that if you keep that up you will break my leg and your slave will lose in value.’ The brute struck all the harder, and a bone broke. With sublime resignation the slave uttered no reproach except to say: ‘I told you you would break my leg.’
“To return to the ass laden beyond its strength, if it could speak it would certainly express itself thus in imitation of the sage: ‘Master, I assure you very humbly the load you are putting on me overtaxes my strength and I cannot carry it.’ But the man inconsiderately continues augmenting the burden until at last the animal’s back bends under the weight. The donkey first inclines its head, lowers its ears, and then lies down. That is its way of saying, [[377]]‘I told you I couldn’t carry such a heavy load.’ Any one but a boor would hasten to lighten the load, instead of unmercifully beating the animal, and the donkey would get up as soon as the weight became suited to its strength.”
“They won’t make the donkey any stronger by beating it,” was Jules’s comment.
“And, what is more, they will turn a docile animal into an obstinate, ill-tempered one. In its early youth, before it knows the hardness of life, the donkey is gay, playful, full of pretty tricks; but with the sad experience of age, with crushing fatigue and ill-treatment, it becomes indocile, slow, obstinate, vindictive. Is not that, however, our fault? How many injuries has not the unfortunate beast to avenge, and what a host of good qualities must it not have to remain in the end as we find it? If the donkey harbored ill-will for blows received, its master would become an object of hatred and it would be constantly biting and kicking him. On the contrary, the animal becomes attached to him, scents him from a distance, distinguishes him from all other men, and can if necessary find him amid all the confusion of a fair or market.