and better. We understand that the atmosphere might be purified, so that
the tempest should not engulf the ships, nor the thunderbolt produce the
conflagration. We dream of mountain-heights more majestic than the
loftiest summits of our Alps, of waters more transparent than the pure
crystal of our lakes, of valleys fresher and more peaceful than the
loveliest which hide among our hills. The spectacle of nature awakens in
us the powers of thought, and the sentiment of beauty draws us on to the
pursuit of an ideal which surpasses all realities. Nature is not
perfect: let us be forward to acknowledge it, and let us draw from the
fact its legitimate consequence. The stream cannot rise higher than its
source. If man conceives an ideal superior to nature, he is not himself
the mere product of nature. By what strange contradiction is it affirmed
at once that our spirit overpasses the bounds of all the realities
which encompass it, and that it has not a source more elevated than
those realities? Listen to a thought of that weighty writer
Montesquieu:[129] "Those who have said that a blind fatality has
produced all the effects which we see in the world, have said a great
absurdity; for what greater absurdity than a blind fatality which should
have produced intelligent beings?" Without restricting ourselves to this
simple and solid argument, let us see how they will explain man by
nature. For this end, we must examine the theory of the perfected
monkey, which, introduced to us by the lectures of Professor Vogt and
the spirited rejoinders of M. de Rougemont, made a great noise as it
descended a short time ago from the mountains of Neuchâtel.[130] A
celebrated orator said one day to an assembly of Frenchmen: "I am long,
Gentlemen; but it is your own fault: it is your glory that I am
recounting." Have not I the right to say to you: "I am long, Gentlemen,
but it is worth while to be so; it is our own dignity which is in
question."