that the presence lessens the repute. It were disgraceful, therefore, with this most spacious and admirable realm of nature before us, and where the reward ever exceeds the promise, did we take the reports of others upon trust, and go on coining crude problems out of these, and on them hanging knotty and captious and petty disputations. Nature is herself to be addressed; the paths she shows us are to be boldly trodden; for thus, and whilst we consult our proper senses, from inferior advancing to superior levels, shall we penetrate at length into the heart of her mystery.
Of the Manner and Order of acquiring Knowledge.
Although there is but one road to science, that to wit, in which we proceed from things more known to things less known, from matters more manifest to matters more obscure; and universals are principally known to us, science springing by reasonings from universals to particulars; still the comprehension of universals by the understanding is based upon the perception of individual things by the senses. Both of Aristotle’s propositions, therefore, are true: First, the one in his Physics,[122] where he says, “The way is naturally prepared, from those things that are more obvious and clear to us, to those things that are more obvious and clear by nature. For, indeed, the same things are not both known to us and extant simply: whence it is indispensable to proceed in this way, viz. from those things that are of a more obscure nature, but to us are more apparent, to those that are of a nature more obvious and distinct. Now those things are, in the first instance, more perspicuous and manifest to us that are most confused in fact; whence it is necessary to proceed from universals to particulars; for the whole, according to the dictates of sense, is the more obvious; and the universal is a certain whole.” And again, that other in his Analytics,[123] where he thus expresses himself: “Singulars are to us more known, and are the first that exist according to the information of sense; for, indeed, there is nothing in the understanding which was not first in the sense. And although that reasoning is naturally prior and more known which proceeds by syllogism, still is that more perspicuous to us which is based on induction. And therefore do we more readily define singulars than universals, for there is more of equivocation in universals: whence it is advisable from singulars to pass to universals.”
All this agrees with what we have previously said, although at first blush it may seem contradictory; inasmuch as universals are first imbibed from particulars by the senses, and in so far are only known to us as an universal is a certain whole and indistinct thing, and a whole is known to us according to sense. For though in all knowledge we begin from sense, because, as the philosopher quoted has it, sensible particulars are better known to sense, still the sensation itself is an universal thing. For, if you observe rightly, although in the external sense the object perceived is singular, as, for example, the colour which we call yellow in the eye, still when this impression comes to be made an abstraction, and to be judged of and understood by the internal sensorium, it is an universal. Whence it happens that several persons abstract several species, and conceive different notions, from viewing the same object at the same time. This is conspicuous among poets and painters, who, although they contemplate one and the same object in the same place at the same moment, and with all other circumstances agreeing, nevertheless regard and describe it variously, and as each has conceived or formed an idea of it in his imagination. In the same way, the painter having a certain portrait to delineate, if he draw the outline a thousand times, he will still give a different face, and each not only differing from the other, but from the original countenance; with such slight variety, however, that looking at them singly, you shall conceive you have still the same portrait set before you, although, when set side by side, you perceive how different they are. Now the reason is this: that in vision, or the act of seeing itself, each particular is clear and distinct; but the moment the object is removed, as it is by merely shutting the eyes, when it becomes an abstraction in the fancy, or is only retained in the memory, it appears obscure and indistinct; neither is it any longer apprehended as a particular, but as a something that is common and universal. Seneca[124] explains this subtlety, according to Plato’s views, in very elegant terms: “An idea,” he says, “is an eternal copy of the things that have place in nature. I add an explanation of this definition, that the matter may be made plainer to you. I desire to take your portrait; I have you as the prototype of the picture, from which my mind takes a certain impression which it transfers to the canvass. The countenance, therefore, which teaches and directs me, and from which the imitation is sought, is the idea.” A little farther on he proceeds: “I have but just made use of the image which a painter forms in his mind, by way of illustration. Now, if he would paint a likeness of Virgil, he forms an intuitive image of his subject: the idea is the face of Virgil, the type of his future work; and this which the artist conveys and transfers to his work is the resemblance or portrait. What difference is there? you ask: the one is the pattern or prototype, the other the form taken from the pattern and fixed in the work; the artist imitates the one, he creates the other. A statue has a certain expression of face; this is the Eidos, the species or representation; the prototype himself has a certain expression, which the statuary conceiving, transfers to his statue: this is the idea. Do you desire yet another illustration of the distinction? The Eidos is in the work; the idea without the work, and not only without the work, but it even existed before the work was begun.” For the things that have formerly been noted, and that by use or wont have become firmly fixed in the mind of the artist, do, in fact, constitute art and the artistic faculty; art, indeed, is the reason of the work in the mind of the artist. On the same terms, therefore, as art is attained to, is all knowledge and science acquired; for as art is a habit with reference to things to be done, so is science a habit in respect of things to be known: as that proceeds from the imitation of types or forms, so this proceeds from the knowledge of natural things. Each has its origin in sense and experience, and it is impossible that there can rightly be either art or science without visible instance or example. In both, that which we perceive in sensible objects differs from the image itself which we retain in our imagination or memory. That is the type, idea, forma informans; this is the imitation, the Eidos, the abstract species. That is a thing natural, a real entity; this a representation or similitude, and a thing of the reason. That is occupied with the individual thing, and itself is single and particular; this is a certain universal and common thing. That in the artist and man of science is a sensible thing, clearer, more perfect; this a matter of reason and more obscure: for things perceived by sense are more assured and manifest than matters inferred by reason, inasmuch as the latter proceed from and are illustrated by the former. Finally, sensible things are of themselves and antecedent; things of intellect, however, are consequent, and arise from the former, and, indeed, we can in no way attain to them without the help of the others. And hence it is, that without the due admonition of the senses, without frequent observation and reiterated experiment, our mind goes astray after phantoms and appearances. Diligent observation is therefore requisite in every science, and the senses are frequently to be appealed to. We are, I say, to strive after personal experience, not to rely on the experience of others; without which, indeed, no one can properly become a student of any branch of natural science, nor show himself a competent judge of what I am about to say on the subject of generation; for without experience and skill in anatomy, he would not better understand me than could one born blind appreciate the nature and difference of colours, or one deaf from birth judge of sounds. I would, therefore, have you, gentle reader, to take nothing on trust from me concerning the generation of animals; I appeal to your own eyes as my witnesses and judge. For as all true science rests upon those principles which have their origin in the operation of the senses, particular care is to be taken that by repeated dissection the grounds of our present subject be fully established. If we do otherwise, we shall but come to empty and unstable opinions; solid and true science will escape us altogether: just as commonly happens to those who form their notions of distant countries and cities, or who pretend to get a knowledge of the parts of the human body, from drawings and engravings, which but too frequently present things under false and erroneous points of view. And so it is, that in the present age we have an abundance of writers and pretenders to knowledge, but very few who are really learned and philosophers.
Thus much have I thought good, gentle reader, to present to you, by way of preface, that understanding the nature of the assistance to which I have trusted, and the counsel by which I have been led in publishing these my observations and experiments; and that you yourself in passing over the same ground, may not merely be in a condition to judge between Aristotle and Galen, but, quitting subtleties and fanciful conjectures, embracing nature with your own eyes, that you may discover many things unknown to others, and of great importance.
Of the same matters, according to Aristotle.
There is no such thing as innate knowledge, according to Aristotle; neither opinion, nor art, nor understanding, nor speech, nor reason itself, inhere in us by nature and from our birth; but all of these, as well as the qualities and habitudes, which are believed to be spontaneous, and to lie under the control of our will, are to be regarded as among the number of those things that reach us from without according to nature: such as the virtues and the vices, for which men are either praised and rewarded or reproved and punished. All our knowledge, therefore, of every kind has to be acquired. But this is not the place to inquire into the first principles of knowledge.
I believe, however, that it will not be useless if I premise a few words as to whence and how our knowledge reaches us, both with a view to rendering what I shall say on the subject of generation more readily intelligible, and of removing any doubts that may arise out of this opinion of the Stagirite,[125] who asserts that all doctrine and discipline based on reason are derived from antecedent knowledge; whence it seems to follow that there is either no first knowledge, or that this must be innate, a conclusion which is in contradiction with what has already been stated.
The doubt, however, is by and by resolved by Aristotle[126] himself, when he treats of the mode in which knowledge is acquired: for after he has taught that all certain knowledge is obtained through syllogism and demonstration, and made it manifest that every demonstrative syllogism proceeds from true and necessary first principles; he goes on to inquire how principles become known, and what the faculty is that knows; at the same time, too, he discusses the question, Whether habits, if not innate, are engendered; and whether, being innate, they lie concealed? “We have not,” he says, “these habits; for it happens that they are concealed from those who acquire the most admirable kinds of knowledge through demonstration. If, however, we receive them, not having had them previously, how should we become informed, how learn from non-antecedent knowledge? It is obvious, therefore, that they are neither possessed, nor can they be engendered in the ignorant and those who are endowed with no habit. Whence it is essential that some faculty be possessed, not however any which were more excellent, more exquisite than they. Now it seems a thing common to all animals, that they have a congenital power of judging, which we call sense. Since sense is innate, then, the things perceived by sense remain in some animals; in others they do not remain. Those in whom they do not remain, however, have either no knowledge at all, or at least none beyond the simple perception of the things which do not remain; others, again, when they perceive, retain a certain something in their soul. Now, as there are many animals of this description, there is already a distinction between one animal and another; and to this extent, that in some there is reason from the memory of things; and in others there is none. Memory, therefore, as is said, follows from sense; but from repeated recollection of the same thing springs experience (for repeated acts of memory constitute a single experience). From experience, however, or from the whole and universal stored quietly in the mind, (one, to wit, in place of a multitude—because in the whole crowd of particulars there is one and the same universal,) is derived the principle of art and of science: of art, if it belong to production (i. e. action); of science, if it belong to that which is (i. e. the knowledge of entity). Consequently there are neither any definite habits that are innate, nor any habits that are formed from other and more known habits, but from sense.”
From which words of Aristotle it plainly appears by what order or method any art or science is acquired, viz. The thing perceived by sense remains; from the permanence of the thing perceived results memory; from multiplied memory, experience; from experience, universal reason, definitions, and maxims or common axioms, the most certain principles of knowledge; for example, the same thing under like conditions cannot be and not be; every affirmation or negation is either true or false; and so on.
Wherefore, as we have said above, there is no perfect knowledge which can be entitled ours, that is innate; none but what has been obtained from experience, or derived in some way from our senses; all knowledge, at all events, is examined by these, approved by them, and finally presents itself to us firmly grounded upon some pre-existing knowledge which we possessed: because without memory there is no experience, which is nothing else than reiterated memory; in like manner memory cannot exist without endurance of the things perceived, and the thing perceived cannot remain where it has never been.
The supreme dictator in philosophy again and elsewhere expresses himself very elegantly in the same direction:[127] “All men desire by nature to know; the evidence of this is the pleasure they take in using their senses, among which the sight is that which is particularly preferred, because this especially serves us to acquire knowledge, and informs us of the greatest number of differences. Nature, therefore, endowed animals with sense; some of them, however, have no memory from the operations of their senses; others, again, have memory; and this is the reason wherefore some are more intelligent, and some more capable of receiving instruction than others, those, namely, that want recollection. Some show discretion independently of tuition: inasmuch as there are many that do not hear, such as bees and others of the same kind. But all animals which along with memory have the faculty of hearing are susceptible of education. Other creatures, again, live possessed of fancy and memory, but they have little store of experience; the human kind, however, have both art and reasoning. Now experience comes to man through memory; for many memories of the same thing have the force of a single experience: so that experience appears to be almost identical with certain kinds of art and science;[128] and, indeed, men acquire both art and science by experience: for experience, as Polus rightly remarks, begets art, inexperience is waited on by accident.”
By this he plainly tells us that no one can truly be entitled discreet or well-informed, who does not of his own experience, i. e. from repeated memory, frequent perception by sense, and diligent observation, know that a thing is so in fact. Without these, indeed, we only imagine or believe, and such knowledge is rather to be accounted as belonging to others than to us. The method of investigating truth commonly pursued at this time therefore is to be held as erroneous and almost foolish, in which so many inquire what others have said, and omit to ask whether the things themselves be actually so or not; and single universal conclusions being deduced from several premises, and analogies being thence shaped out, we have frequently mere verisimilitudes handed down to us instead of positive truths. Whence it comes that pretenders to knowledge and sophists, trimming up the discoveries of others, changing the arrangement only, or the language, and adding a few things of no importance, audaciously send them forth as their own, and so render philosophy, which ought to be certain and perspicuous, obscure and intricate. For he who reads the words of an author and fails, through his own senses, to obtain images of the things that are conveyed in these words, derives not true ideas, but false fancies and empty visions; whence he conjures up shadows and chimeras, and his whole theory or contemplation, which, however, he regards as knowledge, is nothing more than a waking dream, or such a delirium as the sick fancy engenders.
I therefore whisper in your ear, friendly reader, and recommend you to weigh carefully in the balance of exact experience all that I shall deliver in these Exercises on the Generation of Animals; I would not that you gave credit to aught they contain save in so far as you find it confirmed and borne out by the unquestionable testimony of your own senses.
The same course is even advised by Aristotle, who, after having gone over a great many particulars about bees, says at length:[129] “That the generation of bees takes place in this way appears both from reason and from those things that are seen to occur in their kind. Still all the incidents have not yet been sufficiently examined. And when the investigation shall be complete, then will sense be rather to be trusted than reason; reason, however, will also deserve credit, if the things demonstrated accord with the things that are perceived by sense.”
Of the Method to be pursued in studying Generation.
Since in Animal Generation, (and, indeed, in all other subjects upon which information is desired,) inquiry must be begun from the causes, especially the material and efficient ones, it appears advisable to me to look back from the perfect animal, and to inquire by what process it has arisen and grown to maturity, to retrace our steps, as it were, from the goal to the starting place; so that when at last we can retreat no further, we shall feel assured that we have attained to the principles; at the same time we shall perceive from what primary matter, and from what efficient principle, and in what way from these the plastic force proceeds; as also what processes nature brings into play in the work. For primary and more remote matter, by abstraction and negation (being stripped of its garments as it were) becomes more conspicuous; and whatever is first formed or exists primarily in generation, is the material cause of everything that succeeds. For example, before a man attains to maturity, he was a boy, an infant, an embryo. And then it is indispensable to inquire further as to what he was in his mother’s womb before he was an embryo or fœtus; whether made up of three bubbles, or a shapeless mass, or a conception or coagulum proceeding from the mingled seminal fluids of his parents, or what else, as we have it delivered to us by writers. In like manner, before a fowl had attained to maturity or perfection,—because capable of engendering its like,—it was a chicken; previous to which it was an embryo or fœtus in the egg; and before this, Hieronymus Fabricius, of Aquapendente, has observed rudiments of the head, eyes, and spine. But when he asserts that the bones are formed before the muscles, heart, liver, lungs, and precordial parts, and contends that all the internal organs must exist before the external ones, he follows probabilities according to previous notions rather than inspection; and quitting the evidences of sense that rest on anatomy, he seeks refuge in reasonings upon mechanical principles; a procedure that is anything but becoming in a great anatomist, whose duty it was faithfully to narrate the changes he observed taking place day by day in the egg, up to the period when the fœtus is perfected; and this the rather as he expressly proposed to himself to write the history of the formation of the chick in the egg, and to exhibit in figures what happens in the course of each successive day. It would have been in harmony with such a design, I say, had we been informed, on the testimony of the senses, of what parts are formed first, together, or subsequently in the egg; and not had mere opinions or musty conjectures, and the instances of houses and ships, adduced in illustration of the order and mode of formation of the parts.
We, therefore, in conformity with the method proposed, shall show in the first place in the egg, and then in the conceptions of other animals, what parts are first, and what are subsequently formed by the great God of Nature with inimitable providence and intelligence, and most admirable order. Next we shall inquire into the primary matter out of which, and the efficient cause by which generation is accomplished, and also the order and economy of generation, as observed by us; that from thence, from its own work, we may have some certain information of the several faculties of the formative and vegetative soul, and of the nature of the soul itself, judging from its members or organs, and their functions.
This, indeed, cannot be done in all animals: first, because a sufficient number of several of these cannot be commanded; and again, because, from the small size of many, they escape our powers of vision. It must suffice, therefore, that this is done in some kinds which are more familiarly known to us, and that we refer all the rest to these as types or standards.
We have, therefore, selected those that may tend to render our experiments more undeniable, viz. the larger and more perfect animals, and that are easily within reach. For in the larger animals all things are more conspicuous; in the more perfect, they are also more distinct; and in those that we can command, and that live with us, everything is more readily examined: we have it in our power so often as we please to repeat our observations, and so to free them from all uncertainty and doubt. Now, among oviparous animals of this description, we have the common fowl, the goose, duck, pigeon; and then we have frogs, and serpents, and fishes; crustacea, testacea, and mollusca; among insects, bees, wasps, butterflies, and silkworms; among viviparous creatures, we have sheep, goats, dogs, cats, deer, and oxen; lastly, we have the most perfect of all animals, man.
Having studied and made ourselves familiar with these, we may turn to the consideration of the more abstruse nature of the vegetative soul, and feel ourselves in a condition to understand the method, order, and causes of generation in animals generally; for all animals resemble one or other of those above mentioned, and agree with them either generally or specifically, and are procreated in the same manner, or the mode of their generation at least is referrible by analogy to that of one or other of them. For Nature, perfect and divine, is ever in the same things harmonious with herself, and as her works either agree or differ, (viz. in genus, species, or some other proportion,) so is her agency in these (viz. generation or development) either the same or diverse. He who enters on this new and untrodden path, and out of the vast realm of Nature endeavours to find the truth by means of anatomical dissections and experiments, is met by such a multitude of facts, and these of so unusual an aspect, that he may find it more difficult to explain and describe to others the things he has seen, than he reckoned it labour to make his observations; so many things are encountered that require naming; such is the abundance of matter and the dearth of words. But if he would have recourse to metaphors, and by means of old and familiar terms would make known his ideas concerning the things he has newly discovered, the reader would have little chance of understanding him better than if they were riddles that were propounded; and of the thing itself, which he had never seen, he could have no conception. But then, to have recourse to new and unusual terms were less to bring a torch to lighten, than to darken things still more with a cloud: it were to attempt an explanation of a matter unknown by one still more unknown, and to impose a greater toil on the reader to understand the meaning of words than to comprehend the things themselves. And so it happens that Aristotle is believed by the inexperienced to be obscure in many places; and on this account, perhaps, Fabricius of Aquapendente rather intended to exhibit the chick in ovo in his figures than to explain its formation in words.
Wherefore, courteous reader, be not displeased with me, if, in illustrating the history of the egg, and in my account of the generation of the chick, I follow a new plan, and occasionally have recourse to unusual language. Think me not eager for vainglorious fame rather than anxious to lay before you observations that are true, and that are derived immediately from the nature of things. That you may not do me this injustice, I would have you know that I tread in the footsteps of those who have already thrown a light upon this subject, and that, wherever I can, I make use of their words. And foremost of all among the ancients I follow Aristotle; among the moderns, Fabricius of Aquapendente; the former as my leader, the latter as my informant of the way. For even as they who discover new lands, and first set foot on foreign shores, are wont to give them new names which mostly descend to posterity, so also do the discoverers of things and the earliest writers with perfect propriety give names to their discoveries. And now I seem to hear Galen admonishing us, that we should but agree about the things, and not dispute greatly about the words.
ON
ANIMAL GENERATION.
EXERCISE THE FIRST.
Wherefore we begin with the history of the hen’s egg.
Hieronymus Fabricius of Aquapendente, (whom, as I have said, I have chosen my informant of the way I am to follow,) in the beginning of his book on the Formation of the Ovum and Chick, has these words: “My purpose is to treat of the formation of the fœtus in every animal, setting out from that which proceeds from the egg: for this ought to take precedence of all discussion of the subject, both because from this it is not difficult to make out Aristotle’s views of the matter, and because his treatise on the Formation of the Fœtus from the egg, is by far the fullest, and the subject is by much the most extensive and difficult.”
We, however, commence with the history of the hen’s egg as well for the reasons above assigned, as because we can thence obtain certain data which, as more familiar to us, will serve to throw light on the generation of other animals; for as eggs cost little, and are always to be had, we have an opportunity from them of observing the first clear and unquestionable commencements of generation, how nature proceeds in the process, and with what admirable foresight she governs every part of the work.
Fabricius proceeds: “Now that the contemplation of the formation of the chick from the egg is of very ample scope, appears from this, that the greater number of animals are produced from ova. Passing by almost all insects and the whole of the less perfect animals, which are obviously produced from eggs, the greater number of the more perfect are also engendered from eggs.” And then he goes on to particularize: “All feathered creatures; fishes likewise, with the single exception of the whale tribes; crustacea, testacea, and all mollusca; among land animals, reptiles, millepeds, and all creeping things; and among quadrupeds, the entire tribe of lizards.”
We, however, maintain (and shall take care to show that it is so), that all animals whatsoever, even the viviparous, and man himself not excepted, are produced from ova; that the first conception, from which the fœtus proceeds in all, is an ovum of one description or another, as well as the seeds of all kinds of plants. Empedocles,[130] therefore, spoke not improperly of the oviparum genus arboreum, “the egg-bearing race of trees.” The history of the egg is therefore of the widest scope, inasmuch as it illustrates generation of every description.
We shall, therefore, begin by showing where, whence, and how eggs are produced; and then inquire by what means and order and successive steps the fœtus or chick is formed and perfected in and from the egg.
Fabricius has these additional words: “The fœtus of animals is engendered in one case from an ovum, in another from the seminal fluid, in a third from putrefaction; whence some creatures are oviparous, others viviparous, and yet others, born of putrefaction or by the spontaneous act of nature, automatically.”
Such a division as this, however, does not satisfy me, inasmuch as all animals whatsoever may be said in a certain sense to spring from ova, and in another certain sense from seminal fluid; and they are entitled oviparous, viviparous, or vermiparous, rather in respect of their mode of bringing forth than of their first formation. Even the creatures that arise spontaneously are called automatic, not because they spring from putrefaction, but because they have their origin from accident, the spontaneous act of nature, and are equivocally engendered, as it is said, proceeding from parents unlike themselves. And, then, certain other animals bring forth an egg or a worm as their conception and semen, from which, after it has been exposed abroad, a fœtus is produced; whence such animals are called oviparous or vermiparous. Viviparous animals are so entitled because they retain and cherish their conception in their interior, until from thence the fœtus comes forth into the light completely formed and alive.
EXERCISE THE SECOND.
Of the seat of generation.
“Nature,” says Fabricius, “was first solicitous about the place [where generation should proceed], which she determined should be either within or without the animal: within she ordained the uterus; without, the ovum: in the uterus the blood and seminal fluid engendering; in the ovum, however, the fluids or elements of which it consists supplying pabulum for the production of the fœtus.”
Now, whatever is procreated of the semen properly so called originates and is perfected either in the same place or in different places. All viviparous creatures derive their origin and have their completion in the uterus itself; but oviparous animals, as they have their beginning within their parents, and there become ova, so is it beyond their parents that they are perfected into the fœtal state. Among oviparous animals, however, there are some that retain their ova till such time as they are mature and perfect; such as all the feathered tribes, reptiles and serpents. Others, again, extrude their semina in a state still immature and imperfect, and it is without the body of the parent that increase, maturity, and perfection, are attained. Under this head we range frogs, many kinds of fishes, crustaceous, molluscous, and testaceous animals, the ova of which, when first extruded, are but beginnings, sketches, yelks which afterwards surround themselves with whites, and attracting, concocting, and attaching nutriment to themselves, are changed into perfect seeds or eggs. Such also are the semina of insects (called worms by Aristotle), which, imperfect on their extrusion and in the beginning, seek food for themselves, upon which they are nourished, and grow from a grub into a chrysalis: from an imperfect into a perfect egg or seed. Birds, however, and the rest of the oviparous tribes, lay perfect eggs; whence without the uterus the fœtus is engendered. And it was on this account that Fabricius admitted two seats of generation: one internal, the uterus; another external, the ovum. But he would have had more reason, in my opinion, had he called the nest, or place where the eggs are laid, the external seat, that, to wit, in which the extruded seed or egg is cherished, matured, and perfected into a fœtus; for it is from the differences of this seat that the generation of oviparous animals is principally distinguished. And it is, indeed, a thing most worthy of admiration to see these creatures selecting and preparing their nests with so much foresight, and fashioning, and furnishing, and concealing them with such inimitable art and ingenuity; so that it seems imperative on us to admit in them a certain spark of the divine flame (as the poet said of bees); and, indeed, we can more readily admire than imitate their untaught art and sapience.
EXERCISE THE THIRD.
Of the upper part of the hen’s uterus, or the ovary.
The uterus of the fowl is divided by Fabricius into the superior and inferior portions, and the superior portion he calls the ovary.
The ovary is situated immediately beneath the liver, close to the spine, over the descending aorta. In this situation, in the larger animals with red blood, the cœliac artery enters the mesentery, at the origin, namely, of the emulgent veins, or a little lower; in the situation moreover in which in the other red-blooded and viviparous animals the vasa præparantia, tending to the testes, take their origin: in the same place at which the testes of the cock-bird are situated, there is the ovary of the hen discovered. For some animals carry their testicles externally; others have them within the body, in the loins, in the space midway from the origins of the vasa præparantia. But the cock has his testicles at the very origin of these vessels, as if his spermatic fluid needed no preparation.
Aristotle[131] says that the ovum begins at the diaphragm; “I, however,” says Fabricius, “in my treatise on Respiration, have denied that the feathered kinds have any diaphragm. The difficulty is resolved by admitting that birds are not entirely destitute of a kind of diaphragm, inasmuch as they have a delicate membrane in the place of this septum, which Aristotle calls a cincture and septum. Still they have no diaphragm that is muscular, and that might aid respiration, like other animals. But, indeed, Aristotle did not know the muscles.”
Thus is the prince of philosophers accused and excused in the same breath, his challenger being himself not free from error; because it is certain that Aristotle both knew the muscles, as I have elsewhere shown, and the membranes, which in birds are not only situated transversely in the direction of the cincture of the body, but extended in the line of the longitudinal direction of the belly, supplying the place of the diaphragm [of quadrupeds] and being subservient to respiration, as I have shown in the clearest manner in my disquisitions on the Respiration of Animals. And, passing over other particulars at this time, I shall only direct attention to the fact, that birds breathe with great freedom, and in singing also modulate their voice in the most admirable manner, their lungs all the while being so closely connected with their sides and ribs, that they can neither be dilated and rise, nor suffer contraction in any considerable degree.
The bronchia or ends of the trachea in birds, moreover, are perforate, and open into the abdomen (and this is an observation which I do not remember to have met with elsewhere), so that the air inspired is received into and stored up within the cells or cavities formed by the membranes mentioned above. In the same manner as fishes and serpents draw air into ample bladders situated in the abdomen, and there store it up, by which they are thought to swim more lightly; and as frogs and toads, when in the height of summer they respire more vigorously assume more than the usual quantity of air into their vesicular lungs, (whence they acquire so large a size,) which they afterwards freely expire, croaking all the while; so in the feathered tribes are the lungs rather the route and passage for respiration than its adequate instrument.
Now, had Fabricius seen this, he would never have denied that these membranes (with the assistance of the abdominal muscles at all events,) could subserve respiration and perform the office of the diaphragm, which, indeed, of itself, and without the assistance of the abdominal muscles, were incompetent to act as an instrument of respiration. And, then, the diaphragm has another duty to perform in those creatures in whom it is muscular or fleshy, viz., to depress the stomach filled with food, and the intestines distended with flatus, so that the heart and lungs shall not be invaded, and life itself oppressed in its citadel. But as there was no danger of anything of this kind in birds, they have a membranous septum, perfectly well adapted to the purposes of respiration, so that they have very properly been said to have a diaphragm. And were birds even entirely without anything in the shape of a diaphragm, still would Aristotle not be liable to criticism for speaking of the ova commencing at the septum transversum, because by this title he merely indicates the place where the diaphragm is usually met with in other animals. In the same way we ourselves say that the ovary is situated at the origin of the spermatic vasa præparantia, although the hen has, in fact, no such vessels.
The perforations of the lungs discovered by me (and to which I merely direct attention in this place,) are neither obscure nor doubtful, but, in birds especially, sufficiently conspicuous, so that in the ostrich I found many conduits which readily admitted the points of my fingers. In the turkey, fowl, and, indeed, almost all birds, you will find that a probe passed downwards by the trachea makes its way out of the lungs, and is discovered lying naked and exposed in one or another of the abdominal cells. Air blown into the lungs of these creatures with a pair of bellows passes on with a certain force even into the most inferior of these cells.
We may even be permitted to ask, whether in man, whilst he lives, there is not a passage from openings of the same kind into the cavity of the thorax? For how else should the pus poured out in empyema and the blood extravasated in pleurisy make its escape? In penetrating wounds of the chest, the lungs themselves being uninjured, air often escapes by the wound; or liquids thrown into the cavity of the thorax, are discharged with the expectoration. But our views of this subject will be found fully expressed elsewhere, viz., in our disquisitions on the Causes, Uses, and Organs of Respiration.
I return to the ovary and the upper portion of the fowl’s uterus, in which the rudiments of the eggs are produced. These, according to Aristotle,[132] in the first instance are small, and of a white colour; growing larger, they subsequently become of a paler and then of a deeper yellow.
The superior uterus of Fabricius, however, has no existence until after the hen has conceived, and contains the rudiments of ova within it; when it may be designated as a cluster of papulæ. And he therefore observes very properly, “The superior uterus is nothing more than an almost infinite congeries of yelks, which appear collected as it were into a single cluster, of a rounded form, and of every size, from that of a grain of mustard to that almost of a walnut or medlar. This multitude of vitelli is aggregated and conjoined very much in the manner of a bunch of grapes, for which reason I shall constantly speak of it as the vitellarium or raceme of yelks; a comparison which Aristotle himself made in speaking of the soft or scaleless fishes, when he says,[133] their ovary or roe is extruded agglutinated into a kind of raceme or bunch of grapes. And in the same way as in a bunch of grapes the several berries are seen to be of different sizes, some large, some small, some of very diminutive proportions, each hanging by its several peduncle, so do we find precisely the same thing in the vitellarium of the fowl.”
In fishes, frogs, crustacea, and testacea, however, matters are otherwise arranged. The ovary or vitellary here contains ova of one uniform size only, which being extruded increase, attain maturity, and give birth to fœtuses simultaneously. But in the ovary of the common fowl, and almost all the rest of the oviparous tribes, the yelks are found in various stages of their growth, from dimensions that are scarcely visible up to the full size. Nevertheless the eggs of the fowl and other birds, (not otherwise than in those cases where the eggs are all engendered and laid at the same moment,) ripen their fœtuses under the influence of incubation in the same nest, and produce them perfect, nearly at the same time. In the family of the pigeons, however, (which lay and incubate no more than two eggs in the same nest,) I have observed that all the ova crowded together in the ovary, with the exception of a single pair, were of the same dimensions; this pair was very much larger than any of the others, and already prepared to descend into the second or lower uterus. In these creatures, therefore, the number of young is great, not because of the multitude produced at a time, but of the frequency with which births take place, viz., every month. In the same way, among cartilaginous fishes, such as the skates, dog-fishes, &c., two eggs only come to maturity together, one of which descends from the right the other from the left corner of the uterus into the inferior portion, where they are cherished, and where they finally produce living fœtuses, precisely as happens among viviparous animals; in the ovary, nevertheless, there is almost infinite store of ova of various sizes—in the ray I have counted upwards of a hundred.
The ova of the other oviparous tribes are either perfected externally, as in the case of fishes, or they are concocted or matured, as in the instance of testacea, crustacea, and spiders. Testaceous animals lay their eggs amidst froth; the crustaceous tribes, such as the shrimp, crab, and lobster, bear them about with them, attached to certain appendages; and the spiders carry them about and cherish them, laid up in a kind of purse or basket, made of their web. The beetle rolls its eggs in dung, using its hind legs in the operation, and buries them. Now, in all these creatures the quantity of eggs is almost incredibly great: in fishes they form two oblong bladders or follicles, as may be seen in the carp, herring, and smelt, in all of which, as there is no uterus, but merely an ovary present, so is this sometimes crowded with ova to such a degree, that it comes to surpass the body in bulk.
Of such ovaries of the mullet and carp, salted and pressed, and dried in the smoke, was prepared that article of food in such request among the Greeks and old Italians, (called botorcha by the latter, ώά τάριχα, i. e. salted eggs, by the former,) and very similar, we may presume, to the masses which we find in the insides of our smoked herrings, and to the compact granular red-coloured roe of our lobsters. The article prepared from the salted roe of the sturgeon, which is called caviare, and resembles black soap, is still the delight of epicures.
In those fishes that are highly prolific such a quantity of eggs is engendered, that the whole abdomen can scarcely contain them, even when they are first produced, still less when they have grown to any size. In fishes, therefore, there is no part save the ovary dedicated to purposes of reproduction. The ova of these animals continue to grow without the body, and do not require the protection of an uterus for their evolution. And the ovary here appears to bear an analogy to the testicles or vesiculæ seminales, not only because it is found in the same place as the testes in the male, (the testes in the cock being situated, as we have said, close to the origin of the cœliac artery, near the waist, in the very same place as the ovary in the hen,) but because among fishes, in both sexes, as the time of spawning approaches, two follicles, alike in situation, size, and shape, are discovered, extending the whole length of the abdomen; which increase and become distended at the same period: in the male with a homogeneous milky spermatic matter, (whence the term milk or milt of fishes;) in the female with innumerable granules, which, from their diminutive size and close texture, in the beginning of the season, escape the powers of vision, and present themselves as constituting an uniform body, bearing the strongest resemblance to the milt of the male regularly coagulated. By and by they are seen in the guise of minute grains of sand, adhering together within their follicles.
In the smaller birds that lay but once a year, and a few eggs only, you will scarcely discover any ovary. Still, in the place where the testicles are situated in the male, there in the female, and not less obviously than the testicles of the male, you will perceive three or four vesicles (the number being in proportion to that of the eggs of which they are the rudiments), by way of ovary.
In the cornua of the uterus of snakes (which resemble the vasa deferentia in male animals), the first rudiments of the ova present themselves as globules strung upon a thread, in the same way as women’s bracelets, or like a rosary composed of amber beads.
Those ova that are found in the ovary of the fowl consequently are not to be regarded as perfect eggs, but only as their rudiments; and they are so arranged on the cluster, they succeed each other in such an order and of such dimensions, that they are always ready for each day’s laying. But none of the eggs in the ovary are surrounded with albumen; there the yelk exists alone, and each, as it enlarges, extricates itself from the general congeries of smaller ones, in order that it may the more readily find space to grow. Fabricius, therefore, is right when he says,[134] “The yelks which are on the surface of the cluster are larger than those of the middle, which are surrounded as it were by the larger ones. The very smallest of all the ova are situated towards the centre.” That is to say, those that grow acquire larger dimensions and become detached from the rest, and as this proceeds, the several yelks, besides their tunica propria, are invested with another from the ovary, which embraces them externally, and connects them with the base whence they spring. This coat is, therefore, entitled the peduncle by Fabricius, and its office is that of a foot-stalk, viz. to supply nourishment to the ovum, in the same way as fruit is nourished through the stalk by which it is connected with the tree. For this peduncle is a hollow membranous bond of union, extending from the foundation of the cluster [the stroma of the ovary] to the yelk, coming into contact with which, it is dilated and expanded in the same way as the optic nerve in the eye, and covers the vitellus with an external tunic. This perchance was what Aristotle called the στόλον ὸμφαλοώδην, or umbilical appendix, and described as forming a kind of tube. This peduncle includes numerous vessels, which are distributed on all sides around the yelk.
So much is accurately related by Fabricius; but he errs when he says, “This tunic does not surround the entire vitellus, but only extends upon it a little beyond the middle, very much in the manner of an acorn within its cup; whence it comes that the outer portion of the yelk, which is not invested by the membrane in question, presents itself free from vessels, and to appearance naked.” The membrane, nevertheless, surrounds the yelk completely; but on the outer aspect it is not very easily distinguished from the tunica propria, both of them being of extreme delicacy. Posteriorly, however, and where the yelk is turned towards the basis of the cluster, the tunic in question does not adhere to the vitellus, neither does it send any vessels to this part, but merely embraces it in the manner of a sac.
Each vitellus receives a distinct tunic from the ovarian basis; whence this is not to be regarded as the common uterus, since nothing is discovered here except the cluster or heap of ova, of many different sizes, proceeding from the same foundation.
Now, this foundation or basis is a body sui generis, arising on the spine of the feathered kinds, connected by means of large arteries and veins, and of a loose, porous, and spongy texture, in order that multitudes of ova may be produced from it, and that it may supply tunics to all; which tunics, when the yelks have grown to their full size, are distended by them, and then the tunics surround the vitelli, in the manner of sacks with narrower necks and more capacious bellies, very much like the flasks that are formed by the breath of the glass-blower.
Fabricius then proceeds: “The yelks, as they proceed from small beginnings, from the size of millet or mustard seeds, and are at first not only extremely small, but colourless, as Aristotle says, so do they increase by degrees, and, according to Aristotle, become first of a paler and then of a deeper yellow, until they have attained to the dimensions familiar to all.” I, however, have observed ova vastly smaller than millet seeds, ova which, like papulæ or sudamina, or the finest grains of sand, (such as we have indicated as found in the roe of fishes,) almost escaped the powers of sight; their places, indeed, were only proclaimed by a kind of roughness of the membranes.
EXERCISE THE FOURTH.
Of the infundibulum.
The next succeeding portion of the uterus of the common fowl is called the infundibulum by Fabricius. It forms a kind of funnel or tube, extending downwards from the ovary, (which it everywhere embraces,) and becoming gradually wider, terminates in the superior produced portion of the uterus. This infundibulum yields a passage to the yelks when they have broken from their foot-stalks in their descent from the ovary into the second uterus (so it is styled by Fabricius). It resembles the tunica vaginalis in the scrotum, and is a most delicate membrane, very easily dilatable, fitted to receive the yelks that are daily cast loose, and to transmit them to the uterus mentioned.
Would you have an example of these structures? Figure to yourself a small plant, whose tuberous roots should represent the congeries of yelks; its stalk the infundibulum. Now, as the stalk of this plant dies in the winter and disappears, in like manner, when the fowl ceases to lay eggs, the whole ovary, with the infundibulum, withers, shrinks, and is annulled; the basis [stroma] and indication of the roots being still left.
This infundibulum seems only to discharge the office of a conduit, or tube of passage: the yelk is never observed sticking in it; but as the testes at times creep upwards through the tunicæ vaginales into the groins, and in some animals—the hare and the mole—even become concealed within the abdomen, and nevertheless again descend and show themselves externally, so are the vitelli transmitted through the infundibulum from the ovary into the uterus. Its office is served, and even its form is imitated, by the funnel which we make use of when we pour fluids from one vessel into another having a narrower mouth.
EXERCISE THE FIFTH.
Of the external portion of the uterus of the common fowl.
Fabricius pursues his account of the uterus after having described the ovary, and in such an inverse order, that he premises a description of the superior portion or appendage of the uterus before he approaches the uterus itself. He assigns to it three turns or spirals, with somewhat too much of precision or determinateness, and settles the respective situations of these spirals, which are nevertheless of uncertain seat. Here, too, he very unnecessarily repeats his definition of the infundibulum. I would, therefore, in this place, beg to be allowed to give my own account of the uterus of the fowl, according to the anatomical method, which I consider the more convenient, and proceeding from external to internal parts, in opposition to the method of Fabricius.
In the fowl stripped of its feathers, the fundament will be observed not contracted circularly, as in other animals, but forming a depressed orifice, slit transversely, and consisting of two lips lying over against each other, the superior of the two covering and concealing the inferior, which is puckered together. The superior labium, or velabrum, as it is called, arises from the root of the rump, and as the upper eyelid covers the eye, so does this cover the three orifices of the pudenda, viz. the anus, the uterus, and the ureters, which lie concealed under the velabrum as under a kind of prepuce; very much as in the pudenda of the woman we have the orifice of the vulva and the meatus urinarius concealed between the labia and the nymphæ. So that without the use of the knife, or a somewhat forcible retraction of the velabrum in the fowl, neither the orifice by which the fæces pass from the intestines, nor that by which the urine issues from the ureters, nor yet that by which the egg escapes from the uterus, can be perceived. And as the two excrementitious discharges (the urine and the fæces) are expelled together as from a common cloaca, the velabrum being raised at the time, and the respective outlets exposed; so, during intercourse, the hen on the approach of the cock uncovers the vulva, and prepares for his reception, a circumstance observed by Fabricius in the turkey hen when she is eager for the male. I have myself observed a female ostrich, when her attendant gently scratched her back, which seemed to excite the sexual appetite, to lie down on the ground, lift up the velabrum, and exhibit and protrude the vulva, seeing which the male, straightway inflamed with a like œstrum, mounted, one foot being kept firm on the ground, the other set upon the back of the prostrate female; the immense penis (you might imagine it a neat’s tongue!) vibrated backwards and forwards, and the process of intercourse was accompanied with much ado in murmuring and noise—the heads of the creatures being at the same time frequently thrust out and retracted—and other indications of enjoyment. Nor is it peculiar to birds, but common to animals at large, that, wagging the tail and protruding the genital parts, they prepare for the access of the male. And, indeed, the tail in the majority of animals has almost the same office as the velabrum in the common fowl; unless it were raised or drawn aside, it would interfere with the discharge of the fæces and the access of the male.
In the female red-deer, fallow-deer, roe, and others of the more temperate animals, there is a corresponding protection to their private parts, a membranous velabrum covering the vulva and meatus urinarius, which must be raised before the penis of the male can be introduced.
In animals that have a tail, moreover, parturition could not take place unless this part were lifted up; and even the human female is assisted in her labour by having the coccyx anointed and drawn outwards with the finger.
A surgeon, a trustworthy man, and with whom I am upon intimate terms, on his return from the East Indies informed me, in perfect sincerity, that some inland and mountainous parts of the island of Borneo are still inhabited by a race of caudate human beings (a circumstance of which we also read in Pausanias), one of whom, a virgin, who had only been captured with great difficulty, for they live in the woods, he himself had seen, with a tail, thick, fleshy, and a span in length, reflected between the buttocks, and covering the anus and pudenda: so regularly has nature willed to cover these parts.
To return. The structure of the velabrum in the fowl is like that of the upper eyelid; that is to say, it is a fleshy and muscular fold of the skin, having fibres extending from the circumference on every side towards the centre; its inner surface, like that of the eyelid and prepuce, being soft. Along its margin also there is a semicircular tarsus, after the manner of that of the eyelid; and in addition, between the skin and fleshy membrane, an interposed cartilage, extending from the root of the rump, the sickle-shaped tarsus being connected with it at right angles, (very much as we observe a small tail comprehended between the wing on either side, in bats). By this structure the velabrum is enabled more readily to open and close the foramina pudendi that have been mentioned.
The velabrum being now raised and removed, certain foramina are brought into view, some of which are very distinct, others more obscure. The more obvious are the anus and vulva, or the outlet of the fæcal matters and the inlet to the uterus. The more obscure are, first, that by which the urine is excreted from the kidneys, and, second, the small orifice discovered by Fabricius, “into which,” he says, “the cock immits the spermatic fluid,” a foramen, however, which neither Antony Ulm, a careful dissector, has indicated in Aldrovandus, nor any one else except Fabricius, so far as I know, has ever observed.
All these foramina are so close to one another that they seem almost to meet in a single cavity, which, as being common to the fæces and urine, may be called the cloaca. In this cavity, the urine, as it descends from the kidneys, is mingled with the feculent matters of the bowels, and the two are discharged together. Through this, too, the egg, as it is laid, forces itself a passage.
Now, the arrangements in this cavity are such, that both excrements descending into a common sac, the urine is made use of as a natural clyster for their evacuation. The cloaca is therefore thicker and more rugous than the intestine; and at the moment of laying and of coition, it is everted, (the velabrum which covers it being raised as I have already said,) the lower portion of the bowel being as it were prolapsed. At this moment all the foramina that terminate in the cloaca are conspicuous; on the return or reduction of the prolapsed portion, however, they are concealed, being all collected together as it were into the common purse or pouch.
The more conspicuous foramina, those, viz. of the anus and uterus, are situated, with reference to one another, differently in birds from what they are in other animals. In these the pudendum, or female genital part, is situated anteriorly between the rectum and bladder; in birds, however, the excrementitious outlet is placed anteriorly, so that the inlet to the uterus is situated between this and the rump.
The foramen, into which Fabricius believes the cock to inject his fluid, is discovered between the orifice of the vulva and the rump. I, however, deny any such use to this foramen; for in young chickens it is scarcely to be seen, and in adults it is present indifferently both in males and females. It is obvious, therefore, that it is both an extremely small and obscure orifice, and can have no such important function to perform: it will scarcely admit a fine needle or a bristle, and it ends in a blind cavity; neither have I ever been able to discover any spermatic fluid within it, although Fabricius asserts that this fluid is stored up there even for a whole year, and that all the eggs contained in the ovary may be thence fecundated, as it is afterwards stated.
All birds, serpents, oviparous quadrupeds, and likewise fishes, as may readily be seen in the carp, have kidneys and ureters through which the urine distils, a fact which was unknown to Aristotle and philosophers up to this time. In birds and serpents, which have spongy or largely vesicular lungs, the quantity of urine secreted is small, because they drink little, and that by sipping; there was, therefore, no occasion for an urinary bladder in these creatures: the renal secretion, as already stated, is accumulated in a common cavity or cloaca, along with the drier intestinal excrement. Nevertheless, I do find an urinary bladder in the carp and some other fishes.
In the common fowl the ureters descend from the kidneys, which are situated in long and ample cavities on either side of the back, to terminate in the common cavity or cloaca. Their terminations, however, are so obscure and so hidden by the margin of the cavity, that to discover them from without and pass a fine probe into them would be found impossible. Nor is this at all surprising, because in all, even the largest animals, the insertion of the ureters near the neck of the bladder is so tortuous and obscure, that although the urine distils freely from them into the bladder, and calculi even make their way out of them, still neither fluids nor air can be made to enter them by the use of any amount of force. On the other hand, in birds as well as other animals, a probe or a bristle passed downwards from the kidney towards the bladder by the ureters, readily makes its way into the cloaca or bladder.
These facts are particularly distinct in the ostrich, in which, besides the external orifice of the common cavity which the velabrum covers, I find another within the anus, having a round and constricted orifice, shutting in some sort in the manner of a sphincter.
Passing by these particulars, however, let us turn to others that bear more immediately upon our subject. The uterine outlet or vulva, then, or the passage from the common cavity to the uterus of the fowl, is a certain protuberance, soft, lax, wrinkled, and orbicular, resembling the orifice of the prepuce when closed, or appearing as if formed by a prolapse of the internal membrane of the uterus. Now this outlet is situated, as I have said, between the anus and rump, and slightly to the left of the middle line of the body, which Ulysses Aldrovandi imagines to be for the purpose of “facilitating intercourse, and the entrance of the genital organ of the cock.” I have myself observed, however, repeatedly, that the hen turned the common orifice to the right or left indifferently, according to the side from which the cock approached her. Neither do I find any penis in the cock—neither, indeed, could Fabricius,—although in the goose and duck it is very conspicuous. But in its stead I discover an orifice in the cock, not otherwise than in the hen, although it is smaller and more contracted in her than in him; and in the swan, goose, and duck the same thing also appears, the penis of the male goose and duck protruding through this orifice during intercourse.
In a black drake I noticed the penis of such a length that after intercourse it trailed on the ground, and a fowl following, pecked at it greedily, thinking it an earth-worm, as I imagine, so that it was retracted more quickly than usual.
In the male ostrich I have found within this pudendal orifice a very large glans, and the red body of the penis, as we discover them within the prepuce of the horse, resembling a deer’s or a small neat’s tongue in form and magnitude; and I have frequently observed this organ, rigid and somewhat hooked during the coitus, and when entered into the vulva of the female, held for some considerable time there without any movement: it was precisely as if the two creatures had been fastened together with a nail. Meantime, by the gesticulations of their heads and necks, and by their noises, they seemed to notify their nuptials, and to express the great degree of pleasure they experienced.
I have read in a treatise of Dr. Du Val, a learned physician of Rouen, that a certain hermaphrodite was referred to the surgeons and accoucheurs, that they might determine whether it were a man or a woman. They, from an examination of the genital organs, adjudged the party to be of the feminine gender, and a dress in accordance with this decision was ordered. By and by, however, the individual was accused of soliciting women, and of discharging the man’s office; and then it was found, that from a prepuce, as from the private parts of a woman, a penis protruded, and served to perform the male’s business. I have myself occasionally seen the penis of a certain man so greatly shrunk in size, that, unless when excited, nothing was visible in the wrinkled prepuce above the scrotum but the extremity of the glans.
In the horse and some other animals, the principal and ample length of the member is protruded from its concealment. In the mole, too, which is a small animal, there is a remarkable retraction of the penis between the skin and muscles of the belly; and the vulva in the female of this creature is also longer and deeper than usual.
The cock, which is without a penis, performs copulation, as I imagine, in the same manner as the smaller birds, among which the process is rapidly executed, and by mere contact. The orifices of the male and female cloaca, which at the moment are protuberant externally, which, especially in the male, become tense and injected, like the glans penis, encounter, and coition is effected by a succession of salutes, not by any longer intromission of parts, for I do not think that the organs of the cock enter those of the hen at all.
In the copulation of horses, dogs, cats, and the like, the female presents her organ rigid and injected to the penis of the male. And this also takes place in birds which, if they be tame and suffer themselves to be handled, when inflamed with desire present their parts, which will then be found resisting and hard to the finger.
Birds are sometimes so lustful, that if you but stroke their backs gently with your hand, they will immediately lie down and expose and protrude their uterine orifice; and if this part be touched with the finger, they will not fail to proclaim their satisfaction. And that the females may thereby be made to lay eggs, as testified to by Aristotle,[135] I have myself found in the case of the blackbird, thrush, and others. I learned the fact, indeed, in former years by accident, and to my detriment; for my wife had a beautiful parrot, a great pet, learned and talkative enough, and so tame that it was allowed to roam at liberty about the house: when its mistress was absent it sought her everywhere; on her return it caressed her, and loudly proclaimed its joy; when called to it would answer; would fly to its mistress, and then seizing her clothes with beak and feet alternately, it climbed to her shoulder, whence creeping down the arm, it reached her hand, its usual seat. When ordered to speak or to sing, it would obey, although it were the night season and quite dark. Full of play and lasciviousness, it would frequently sit in its mistress’s lap, where it loved to have her scratch its head and stroke its back, upon which, fluttering with its wings and making a gentle noise, it testified the pleasure it experienced. I believed all this to proceed from his usual familiarity and love of being noticed; for I always regarded the creature as a male, by reason of his proficiency in talking and singing. For among birds, the females rarely sing or challenge one another by their note; the males alone solace their mates by their tuneful warblings, and call them to the rites of love. And it is on this account that Aristotle says,[136] “If partridges be placed over against the males, and the wind blow towards them from where the males sit, they are impregnated and conceive. They even for the most part conceive from the note of the male bird, if they be in season and full of desire. The flight of the male over them will also have the same effect, the male bird casting down a fertilizing influence upon the female.” Now this happens especially in the spring season, whence the poet sings:[137]