C — Chaîne des êtres créés

The first time I read Plato, and saw that gradation of beings rising from the lightest atom up to the supreme being, that ladder filled me with admiration; but when I examined it closely, that great phantom vanished, as formerly all apparitions fled in the morning at the crowing of the cock.

The imagination at first takes pleasure in seeing the imperceptible passage from brute matter to organized matter, from plants to zoophytes, from those zoophytes to animals, from these to man, from man to spirits, from those spirits clothed in a little aerial body to immaterial substances; and at last a thousand different orders of these substances, which rise through beauty and perfection to God himself. This hierarchy pleases the good people very much, who believe they see the pope and his cardinals followed by the archbishops, the bishops; after whom come the parish priests, the vicars, ordinary priests, the deacons, the subdeacons, then appear the monks, and the Capuchins bring up the rear.

But there is a little more distance between God and his most perfect creatures than between the holy father and the dean of the sacred college: that dean can become pope, but the most perfect of the spirits created by the supreme being cannot become God; infinity lies between God and him.

This chain, this supposed gradation, likewise does not exist among plants and animals; the proof of it is that there are species of plants and of animals that have been destroyed. We have no more murex. It was forbidden to eat the griffon and the ixion; those two species have disappeared from this world, whatever Bochart may say: where then is the chain?

Even if we had not lost some species, it is visible that some can be destroyed. The lions and the rhinoceroses are beginning to become very rare.

It is very probable that there have been races of men which are no longer found; but I am willing to grant that they have all survived, along with the whites, the Negroes, the Kaffirs to whom nature has given an apron of their own skin, hanging from the belly to the middle of the thighs; the Samoyeds, whose women have a nipple of beautiful ebony, etc.

Is there not visibly a void between the ape and man? Is it not easy to imagine a two-footed animal without feathers, which would be intelligent without having either the use of speech or our form, which we could tame, which would answer our signs and would serve us? And between that new species and that of man, could one not imagine others?

Beyond man, you lodge in the sky, divine Plato, a succession of celestial substances; we believe in some of those substances, because the faith teaches it to us. But you, what reason have you to believe in them? You have not apparently spoken with Socrates’ guiding spirit; and the good man Er, who rose again expressly to teach you the secrets of the other world, taught you nothing of those substances.

The supposed chain is no less interrupted in the perceptible universe.

What a gradation, I beg you, between your planets! The Moon is forty times smaller than our globe. When you have traveled from the Moon into the void, you find Venus; she is about as big as the earth. From there you go to Mercury; he turns in an ellipse very different from the circle that Venus describes; he is twenty-seven times smaller than we are, the Sun a million times bigger, Mars five times smaller; that one makes his round in two years, Jupiter his neighbor in twelve, Saturn in thirty; and even Saturn, the most distant of all, is not so big as Jupiter. Where is the supposed gradation?

And then, how can there be a chain linking everything across vast empty spaces? If there is one, it is certainly the one Newton discovered; it is he who makes all the globes of the planetary world gravitate one toward another in that immense void.

Much-admired Plato! You have told nothing but fables; and there has come to the island of the Cassiterides, where in your time men went all naked, a philosopher who has taught the earth truths as great as your imaginings were childish.

When I first read Plato, I saw beings rising in steps from the lightest atom to the supreme being. I looked at this ladder in admiration. But once I looked closely, the great ghost vanished. That’s how apparitions used to run away at the rooster’s morning call.

At first, we enjoy imagining that every step is too small to notice. Raw matter leads to organized matter. Plants lead to zoophytes, zoophytes to animals, animals to man. Man leads to spirits clothed in little bodies of air. Those spirits lead to beings without matter. Finally come a thousand different orders of these beings. They rise through beauty and perfection to God himself. Good people really like this hierarchy. They think they see the pope and his cardinals, followed by archbishops and bishops. Then come parish priests, assistant priests, ordinary priests, deacons, and subdeacons. Next the monks appear, and the Capuchins bring up the rear.

But God is a little further from his most perfect creatures than the Holy Father is from the dean of the Sacred College. That dean can become pope. The most perfect spirit the supreme being created can’t become God. The distance between them is infinite.

This chain, this supposed series of steps, doesn’t exist among plants and animals either. The proof is that some species of plants and animals have been destroyed. We no longer have the murex. People were forbidden to eat the griffin and the ixion. Both species have vanished from this world, whatever Bochart says. Where, then, is the chain?

Even if we hadn’t lost any species, we can plainly destroy them. Lions and rhinoceroses are beginning to become very rare.

It’s very likely some races of people existed that we can no longer find. But let’s grant that they’ve all survived, like the whites and the Negroes. Like the Kaffirs, too: nature gave them an apron of their own skin. It hangs from the belly halfway down the thighs. And like the Samoyeds, whose women have a nipple of beautiful ebony. And others too.

Isn’t there an obvious gap between ape and man? We can easily imagine an intelligent animal with two feet and no feathers. It wouldn’t speak or have our shape. We could tame it. It would respond to our signs and serve us. Couldn’t we imagine still other species between this new one and humans?

Beyond man, divine Plato, you put a line of heavenly beings in the sky. We believe in some of these beings because faith teaches us to. But what reason do you have to believe in them? You presumably never spoke to Socrates’ guiding spirit. That good man Er rose from the dead expressly to tell you the other world’s secrets. But he told you nothing about these beings.

The supposed chain is just as broken in the universe we can sense.

Where are these steps between your planets, please? The Moon is forty times smaller than our globe. Travel from the Moon through empty space and you find Venus. It’s about as big as the Earth. From there you go to Mercury. Its orbit is an ellipse, very different from the circle Venus follows. It’s twenty-seven times smaller than we are. The Sun is a million times bigger; Mars is five times smaller. Mars goes around in two years, its neighbor Jupiter in twelve, Saturn in thirty. And Saturn, the furthest of all, isn’t even as big as Jupiter. Where are the supposed steps?

And how can a chain link everything across vast empty spaces? If there is one, it’s certainly the one Newton discovered. He makes all the globes in the planetary world pull toward each other across that huge emptiness.

Plato, so admired! You’ve told nothing but fables. A philosopher appeared on the island of the Cassiderides. In your day, people there went completely naked. He taught the world truths as great as your imaginings were childish.