 | CHAPTER XI. The monikins |  |
11. CHAPTER XI.
A philosophy that is bottomed on something substantial—
Some reasons plainly presented, and cavilling objections
put to flight, by a charge of logical bayonets.
Dr. Reasono was quite as reasonable, in the personal
embellishments of his lyceum, as any public
lecturer I remember to have seen, who was required
to execute his functions in the presence of ladies.
If I say that his coat had been brushed, his tail
newly curled, and that his air was a little more than
usually “solemnized,” as Captain Poke described
it in a decent whisper, I believe all will be said
that is either necessary or true. He placed himself
behind a footstool, which served as a table,
smoothed its covering a little with his paws, and
at once proceeded to business. It may be well to
add that he lectured without notes, and, as the
subject did not immediately call for experiments,
without any apparatus.
Waving his tail towards the different parts of
the room in which his audience were seated, the
philosopher commenced.
“As the present occasion, my hearers,” he said,
“is one of those accidental calls upon science, to
which all belonging to the academies are liable,
and does not demand more than the heads of our
thesis to be explained, I shall not dig into the roots
remarks as may serve to furnish the outlines of our
philosophy, natural, moral and political—”
“How, sir,” I cried, “have you a political as
well as a moral philosophy?”
“Beyond a question; and a very useful philosophy
it is. No interests require more philosophy
than those connected with politics.—To resume,
our philosophy, natural, moral and political, reserving
most of the propositions, demonstrations, and
corollaries, for greater leisure, and a more advanced
state of information in the class.—Prescribing
to myself these salutary limits, therefore, I
shall begin only with Nature.
“Nature is a term that we use to express the
pervading and governing principle of created
things. It is known both as a generic and a specific
term, signifying in the former character the elements
and combinations of omnipotence, as applied
to matter in general, and in the latter, its particular
subdivisions, in connexion with matter in its
infinite varieties. It is moreover subdivided into its
physical and moral attributes, which admit also
of the two grand distinctions just named. Thus,
when we say Nature, in the abstract, meaning
physically, we would be understood as alluding to
those general, uniform, absolute, consistent, and
beautiful laws, which control and render harmonious,
as a great whole, the entire action, affinities,
and destinies of the universe; and when we
say Nature in the speciality, we would be understood
to speak of the nature of a rock, of a tree,
of air, fire, water, and land. Again; in alluding
to a moral Nature in the abstract, we mean sin,
and its weaknesses, its attractions, its deformities;
in a word, its totality; while, on the other hand,
when we use the term, in this sense, under the
to the particular shades of natural qualities that
mark the precise object named. Let us illustrate
our positions by a few brief examples.
“When we say `O Nature! how art thou glorious,
sublime, instructive!'—we mean that her
laws emanate from a power of infinite intelligence
and perfection; and when we say `O Nature!
how art thou frail, vain and insufficient!' we mean
that she is, after all, but a secondary quality, inferior
to that which brought her into existence, for
definite, limited, and, doubtless, useful purposes.
In these examples, we treat the principle in the
abstract.
“The examples of nature in the speciality will
be more familiar, and, although in no degree more
true, will be better understood by the generality
of my auditors. Especial nature, in the physical
signification, is apparent to the senses, and is
betrayed in the outward forms of things, through
their force, magnitude, substance, and proportions;
and, in its more mysterious properties, to examination,
by their laws, harmony, and action. Especial
moral nature is denoted in the different propensities,
capacities and conduct of the different
classes of all moral beings. In this latter sense
we have monikin nature, dog nature, horse nature,
hog nature, human nature—”
“Permit me, Dr. Reasono,” I interrupted, “to
inquire if, by this classification, you intend to convey
more than may be understood by the accidental
arrangement of your examples?”
“Purely the latter, I do assure you, Sir John.”
“And do you admit the great distinctions of
animal and vegetable natures?”
“Our academies are divided on this point. One
school contends that all living nature is to be embraced
another admits of the distinctions you have named.
I am of the latter opinion, inclining to the belief
that Nature herself has drawn the line between
the two classes, by bestowing on one the double
gift of the moral and physical nature, and by with-holding
the former from the other. The existence
of the moral nature is denoted by the presence of
the will. The academy of Leaphigh has made an
elaborate classification of all the known animals,
of which the sponge is at the bottom of the list,
and the monikin at the top.”
“Sponges are commonly uppermost,” growled
Noah.
“Sir,” said I, with a disagreeable rising at the
throat, “am I to understand that your savans
account man an animal in a middle state between
a sponge and a monkey?”
“Really, Sir John, this warmth is quite unsuited
to philosophical discussion—if you continue to
indulge in it, I shall find myself compelled to
postpone the lecture.”
At this rebuke I made a successful effort to
restrain myself, although my esprit de corps nearly
choked me. Intimating, as well as I could, a
change of purpose, Dr. Reasono, who had stood
suspended over his table with an air of doubt,
waved his tail, and proceeded:—
“Sponges, oysters, crabs, sturgeons, clams, toads,
snakes, lizards, skunks, opossums, ant-eaters, baboons,
negroes, wood-chucks, lions, esquimaux,
sloths, hogs, hottentots, ourang-outangs, men and
monikins are, beyond a question, all animals. The
only disputed point among us is, whether they are
all of the same genus, forming varieties or species,
or whether they are to be divided into the three
great families of the improvables, the unimprova
that we form but one great family, reason by certain
conspicuous analogies, that serve as so many
links to unite the great chain of the animal world.
Taking man as a centre, for instance, they show
that this creature possesses, in common with every
other creature, some observable property. Thus,
man is, in one particular, like a sponge; in another,
he is like an oyster; a hog is like a man; the skunk
has one peculiarity of a man; the ourang-outang
another; the sloth another—”
“King!”
“And so on, to the end of the chapter. This
school of philosophers, while it has been very
ingeniously supported, is not, however, the one
most in favor, just at this moment, in the academy
of Leaphigh—”
“Just at this moment, Doctor!”
“Certainly, sir. Do you not know that truths,
physical as well as moral, undergo their revolutions,
the same as all created nature? The academy
has paid great attention to this subject; and
it issues annually an almanack, in which the different
phases, the revolutions, the periods, the
eclipses, whether partial or total, the distances
from the centre of light, the apogee and perigee of
all the more prominent truths, are calculated, with
singular accuracy; and by the aid of which the
cautious are enabled to keep themselves, as near
as possible, within the bounds of reason. We
deem this effort of the monikin mind as the sublimest
of all its inventions, and as furnishing the
strongest known evidence of its near approach to
the consummation of our earthly destiny. This
is not the place to dwell on that particular point
of our philosophy, however; and, for the present,
we will postpone the subject.”
“Yet you will permit me, Dr. Reasono, in virtue
of clause 1, article 5, protocol No. 1, (which protocol,
if not absolutely adopted, must be supposed
to contain the spirit of that which was,) to inquire
whether the calculations of the revolutions of truth,
do not lead to dangerous moral extravagancies,
ruinous speculations in ideas, and serve to unsettle
society?”
The philosopher withdrew a moment with my
Lord Chatterino, to consult whether it would be
prudent to admit of the validity of protocol No. 1,
even in this indirect manner; whereupon it was decided
between them, that, as such admission would
lay open all the vexatious questions that had just
been so happily disposed of, clause 1 of article 5
having a direct connexion with clause 2; clauses
1 and 2 forming the whole article; and the said
article 5, in its entirety, forming an integral portion
of the whole instrument; and the doctrine of
constructions enjoining that instruments are to be
construed, like wills, by their general, and not by
their especial, tendencies, it would be dangerous
to the objects of the interview to allow the application
to be granted. But, reserving a protest
against the concession being interpreted into a
precedent, it might be well to concede that, as an
act of courtesy, which was denied as a right.
Hereupon, Dr. Reasono informed me that these
calculations of the revolutions of truth did lead to
certain moral extravagancies, and in many instances
to ruinous speculations in ideas; that the
academy of Leaphigh, and so far as his information
extended, the academy of every other country,
had found the subject of truth, more particularly
moral truth, the one of all others the most difficult
to manage, the most likely to be abused, and the
most dangerous to promulgate. I was moreover
this branch of the subject.
“To pursue the more regular thread of my lecture,”
continued Dr. Reasono, when he had politely
made this little digression, “we now divide
these portions of the created world into animated
and vegetable nature; the former is again divided
into the improvable and the unimprovable, and the
retrogressive. The improvable embraces all those
species which are marching, by slow, progressive,
but immutable mutations, towards the perfection
of terrestrial life, or to that last, elevated, and
sublime condition of mortality, in which the material
makes its final struggle with the immaterial—
mind with matter. The improvable class of animals,
agreeably to the monikin dogmas, commences
with those species in which matter has
the most unequivocal ascendency, and terminates
with those in which mind is as near perfection as
this mortal coil will allow. We hold that mind
and matter, in that mysterious union which connects
the spiritual with the physical being, commence
in the medium state, undergoing, not, as
some men have pretended, transmigrations of the
soul only, but such gradual and imperceptible
changes of both soul and body, as have peopled
the world with so many wonderful beings; wonderful,
mentally and physically; and all of which
(meaning all of the improvable class) are no more
than animals of the same great genus, on the high
road of tendencies, who are advancing towards
the last stage of improvement, previously to their
final translation to another planet, and a new existence.
“The retrogressive class is composed of those specimens
which, owing to their destiny, take a false
direction; which, instead of tending to the immaterial,
more and more under the influence of matter, until,
by a succession of physical translations, the will is
eventually lost, and they become incorporated with
the earth itself. Under this last transformation,
these purely materialized beings are chymically
analyzed in the great laboratory of nature, and
their component parts are separated:—thus the
bones become rocks, the flesh earth, the spirits air,
the blood water, the grizzle clay, and the ashes of
the will are converted into the element of fire. In
this class we enumerate whales, elephants, hippopotami,
and divers other brutes, which visibly exhibit
accumulations of matter that must speedily
triumph over the less material portions of their natures.”
“And yet, Doctor, there are facts that militate
against the theory; the elephant, for instance, is
accounted one of the most intelligent of all the
quadrupeds.”
“A mere false demonstration, sir. Nature delights
in these little equivocations: thus, we have
false suns, false rainbows, false prophets, false vision,
and even false philosophy. There are entire races
of both our species, too, as the Congo and the Esquimaux,
for yours, and baboons and the common
monkeys, that inhabit various parts of the world
possessed by the human species, for ours, which are
mere shadows of the forms and qualities that properly
distinguish the animal in its state of perfection.”
“How, sir; are you not, then, of the same family
as all the other monkeys that we see hopping
and skipping about the streets?”
“No more, sir, than you are of the same family
as the flat-nosed, thick-lipped, low-browed, ink-skinned
negro, or the squalid, passionless, brutalized
vagaries; and all these are no more than some of
her mistifications. Of this class is the elephant,
who, while verging nearest to pure materialism,
makes a deceptive parade of the quality he is fast
losing. Instances of this species of playing trumps,
if I may so express it, are common in all classes
of beings. How often, for instance, do men, just
as they are about to fail, make a parade of wealth,
women seem obdurate an hour before they capitulate,
and diplomatists call Heaven to be a witness
of their resolutions to the contrary, the day before
they sign and seal! In the case of the elephant,
however, there is a slight exception to the general
rule, which is founded on an extraordinary struggle
between mind and matter, the former making an
effort that is unusual, and which may be said to
form an exception to the ordinary warfare between
these two principles, as it is commonly conducted
in the retrogressive class of animals. The most
infallible sign of the triumph of mind over matter,
is in the development of the tail—”
“King!”
“Of the tail, Dr. Reasono?”
“By all means, sir,—that seat of reason, the tail!
Pray, Sir John, what other portion of our frames
did you imagine was indicative of intellect?”
“Among men, Dr. Reasono, it is commonly
thought the head is the more honorable member,
and, of late, we have made analytical maps of this
part of our physical formation, by which it is pretended
to know the breadth and length of a moral
quality, no less than its boundaries.”
“You have made the best use of your materials,
such as they were, and I dare say the map in question,
all things considered, is a very clever performance.
But in the complication and abstruseness of
standing on your mantel-piece,) you may learn the
confusion which still reigns over the human intellect.
Now, in regarding us, you can understand
the very converse of your dilemma. How much
easier, for instance, is it to take a yard-stick, and
by a simple admeasurement of a tail, come to a
sound, obvious and incontrovertible conclusion as
to the extent of the intellect of the specimen, than
by the complicated, contradictory, self-balancing
and questionable process to which you are reduced!
Were there only this fact, it would abundantly establish
the higher moral condition of the monikin
race, as it is compared with that of man.”
“Dr. Reasono, am I to understand that the monikin
family seriously entertain a position so extravagant
as this: that a monkey is a creature more
intellectual and more highly civilized than man?”
“Seriously, good Sir John!—Why you are the
first respectable person it has been my fortune to
meet, who has even affected to doubt the fact. It
is well known that both belong to the improveable
class of animals, and that monkeys, as you are
pleased to term us, were once men, with all their
passions, weaknesses, inconsistencies, modes of philosophy,
unsound ethics, frailties, incongruities and
subserviency to matter; that they passed into the
monikin state by degrees, and that large divisions
of them are constantly evaporating into the immaterial
world, completely spiritualized and free from
the dross of flesh. I do not mean in what is called
death—for that is no more than an occasional
deposit of matter to be resumed in a new aspect,
and with a nearer approach to the grand results,
(whether of the improveable or of the retrogressive
classes;) but those final mutations which transfer
us to another planet, to enjoy a higher state of being,
final excellence.”
“All this is very ingenious, sir; but, before you
can persuade me into the belief that man is an animal
inferior to a monkey, Dr. Reasono, you will
allow me to say that you must prove it.”
“Ay, ay, or me, either,” put in Captain Poke,
waspishly.
“Were I to cite my proofs, gentlemen,” continued
the philosopher, whose spirit appeared to be
much less moved by our doubts than ours were by
his position—“I should, in the first place, refer you
to history. All the monikin writers are agreed in
recording the gradual translation of the species
from the human family—”
“This may do very well, sir, for the latitude of
Leaphigh, but permit me to say that no human historian,
from Moses down to Buffon, has ever taken
such a view of our respective races. There is not
a word in any of all these writers on the subject.”
“How should there be, sir?—History is not a
prediction, but a record of the past. Their silence
is so much negative proof in our favor. Does
Tacitus, for instance, speak of the French revolution?
Is not Herodotus silent on the subject of the
independence of the American continent?—or do
any of the Greek and Roman writers give us the
annals of Stunin'tun,—a city whose foundations
were most probably laid some time after the commencement
of the Christian era? It is morally
impossible that men or monikins can faithfully relate
events that have never happened; and as it has
never yet happened to any man, who is still a man,
to be translated to the monikin state of being, it
follows, as a necessary consequence, that he can
know nothing about it. If you want historical
proofs, therefore, of what I say, you must search
be found, with an infinity of curious details; and I
trust the time is not far distant, when I shall have
great pleasure in pointing out to you some of
the most approved chapters of our best writers
on this subject. But we are not confined to the
testimony of history, in establishing our condition
to be of the secondary formation. The internal
evidence is triumphant: we appeal to our simplicity,
our philosophy, the state of the arts among us;
in short, to all those concurrent proofs which are
dependent on the highest possible state of civilization.
In addition to this, we have the infallible
testimony which is to be derived from the development
of our tails. Our system of caudology is, in
itself, a triumphant proof of the high improvement
of the monikin reason.”
“Do I comprehend you aright, Dr. Reasono,
when I understand your system of caudology, or
tailology, to render it into the vernacular, to dogmatize
on the possibility that the seat of reason in
a man, which to day is certainly in his brains, can
ever descend into a tail?”
“If you deem development, improvement and
simplification, a descent, beyond a question, sir.
But your figure is a bad one, Sir John; for ocular
demonstration is before you, that a monikin can
carry his tail as high as a man can possibly carry
his head. Our species, in this sense, is morally
nicked; and it costs us no effort to be on a level
with human kings. We hold, with you, that the
brain is the seat of reason, while the animal is in
what we call the human probation, but that it is a
reason undeveloped, imperfect and confused; cased,
as it were, in an envelope unsuited to its functions;
but that, as it gradually oozes out of this straitened
receptacle, towards the base of the animal, it acquires
and development, point. If you examine the human
brain, you will find it, though capable of being
stretched to a great length, compressed in a diminutive
compass, involved and snarled; whereas the
same physical portion of the genus gets simplicity,
a beginning and an end, a directness and consecutiveness,
that are necessary to logic, and, as has just
been mentioned, a point, in the monikin seat of reason,
which, by all analogy, go to prove the superiority
of the animal possessing advantages so
great.”
“Nay, sir, if you come to analogies, they will be
found to prove more than you may wish. In vegetation,
for instance, saps ascend for the purposes
of fructification and usefulness; and, reasoning from
the analogies of the vegetable world, it is far more
probable that tails have ascended into brains, than
that brains have descended into tails; and, consequently,
that men are much more likely to be an
improvement on monkeys, than monkeys an improvement
on men.”
I spoke with warmth, I know; for the doctrine
of Dr. Reasono was new to me; and, by this time,
my esprit de corps had pretty effectually blinded
reflection.
“You gave him a red-hot shot that time, Sir
John,” whispered Captain Poke at my elbow; “now,
if you are so disposed, I will wring the necks of
all these little blackguards, and throw them out of
the window.”
I immediately intimated that any display of brute
force would militate directly against our cause;
as the object, just at that moment, was to be as
immaterial as possible.
“Well, well, manage it in your own way, Sir John,
and I'm quite as immaterial as you can wish; but
of us in the argument, I shall never dare look at Miss
Poke, or show my face ag'in in Stunin'tun.”
This little aside was secretly conducted, while
Dr. Reasono was drinking a glass of cau sucrée;
but he soon returned to the subject, with the dignified
gravity that never forsook him.
“Your remark touching saps has the usual savor
of human ingenuity, blended, however, with the
proverbial short-sightedness of the species. It is
very true that saps ascend for the purposes of fructification;
but what is this fructification, to which
you allude? It is no more than a false demonstration
of the energies of the plant. For all the purposes
of growth, life, durability, and the final
conversion of the vegetable matter into an element,
the root is the seat of power and authority; and, in
particular, the tap-root above, or rather below all
others. This tap-root may be termed the tail of
vegetation. You may pluck fruits with impunity—
nay, you may even top all the branches, and the
tree shall survive; but, put the axe to the root, and
the pride of the forest falls!”
All this was too evidently true to be denied, and
I felt worried and badgered; for no man likes to be
beaten in a discussion of this sort, and more especially
by a monkey. I bethought me of the elephant,
and determined to make one more thrust, by the
aid of his powerful tusks, before I gave up the point.
“I am inclined to think, Dr. Reasono,” I put in
as soon as possible, “that your savans have not
been very happy in illustrating their theory by
means of the elephant. This animal, besides being
a mass of flesh, is too well provided with intellect
to be passed off for a dunce; and he not only has
one, but he might almost be said to be provided
with two tails.”
“That has been his chief misfortune, sir. Matter,
in the great warfare between itself and mind,
has gone on the principle of divide and conquer.
You are nearer the truth than you imagined, for
the trunk of the elephant is merely the abortion of a
tail; and yet, you see, it contains nearly all the intelligence
that the animal possesses. On the subject of the
fate of the elephant, however, theory is confirmed
by actual experiment. Do not your geologists and
naturalists speak of the remains of animals, which
are no longer to be found among living things?”
“Certainly, sir; the mastodon—the megatherium,
iguanodon; and the plesiosaurus—”
“And do you not also find unequivocal evidences
of animal matter incorporated with rocks?”
“This fact must be admitted, too.”
“These phenomena, as you call them, are no
more than the final deposits which nature has made
in the cases of those creatures in which matter has
completely overcome its rival, mind. So soon as
the will is entirely extinct, the being ceases to live;
or it is no longer an animal. It falls and reverts
altogether to the element of matter. The processes
of decomposition and incorporation are longer, or
shorter, according to circumstances; and these
fossil remains of which your writers say so much,
are merely cases that have met with accidental
obstacles to their final decomposition. As respects
our two species, a very cursory examination of their
qualities ought to convince any candid mind of the
truth of our philosophy. Thus, the physical part
of man is much greater in proportion to the spiritual,
than it is in the monikin; his habits are grosser
and less intellectual; he requires sauce and condiments
in his food; he is farther removed from simplicity,
and, by necessary implication, from high
civilization; he eats flesh, a certain proof that the
he has no cauda—”
“On this point, Dr. Reasono, I would inquire if
your scholars attach any weight to traditions?”
“The greatest possible, sir. It is the monikin
tradition that our species is composed of men
refined, of diminished matter and augmented minds,
with the seat of reason extricated from the confinement
and confusion of the caput, and extended,
unravelled, and rendered logical and consecutive,
in the cauda.”
“Well, sir, we too have our traditions; and an
eminent writer, at no great distance of time, has
laid it down as incontrovertible, that men once had
caudœ.”
“A mere prophetic glance into the future, as coming
events are known to cast their shadows before.”
“Sir, the philosopher in question establishes his
position, by pointing to the stumps.”
“He has unluckily mistaken a foundation-stone for
a ruin! Such errors are not unfrequent with the
ardent and ingenious. That men will have tails, I
make no doubt; but that they have ever reached
this point of perfection, I do most solemnly deny.
There are many premonitory symptoms of their
approaching this condition; the current opinions
of the day, the dress, habits, fashions, and philosophy
of the species, encourage the belief; but
hitherto you have never reached the enviable distinction.
As to traditions, even your own are all
in favor of our theory. Thus, for instance, you
have a tradition that the earth was once peopled by
giants. Now, this is owing to the fact that men
were formerly more under the influence of matter,
and less under that of mind, than to-day. You admit
that you diminish in size, and improve in moral
attainments; all of which goes to establish the truth
stress on physical, and more on moral excellencies;
and, in short, many things show that the time for
the final liberation and grand development of your
brains, is not far distant. This much I very gladly
concede; for, while the dogmas of our schools are
not to be disregarded, I very cheerfully admit that
you are our fellow-creatures, though in a more
infant and less improved condition of society.”
“King!”
Here Dr. Reasono announced the necessity of
taking a short intermission, in order to refresh
himself. I retired with Captain Poke, to have a
little communication with my fellow-mortal, under
the peculiar circumstances in which we were placed,
and to ask his opinion of what had been said. Noah
swore bitterly at some of the conclusions of the
monikin philosopher, affirming he should like no
better sport than to hear him lecture in the streets
of Stunin'tun, where, he assured me, such doctrine
would not be tolerated any longer than was necessary
to sharpen a harpoon, or to load a gun.
Indeed, he did not know but the Doctor would be
incontinently kicked over into Rhode Island, without
ceremony.
“For that matter,” continued the indignant old
sealer, “I should ask no better sport, than to have
permission to put the big toe of my right foot, under
full sail, against the part of the blackguard where
his beloved tail is stepped. That would soon bring
him to reason. Why, as for his caudœ, if you
will believe me, Sir John, I once saw a man, on
the coast of Patagonia—a savage, to be sure, and
not a philosopher, as this fellow pretends to be—
who had an outrigger of this sort, as long as a
ship's ring-tail-boom. And what was he, after all,
a grampus!”
This assertion of Captain Poke relieved my mind
considerably; and, laying aside the bison-skin, I
asked him to have the goodness to examine the localities,
with some particularity, about the termination
of the dorsal bone, in order to ascertain if there
were any encouraging signs to be discovered.
Capt. Poke put on his spectacles, for time had
brought the worthy mariner to their use, as he
said, “whenever he had occasion to read fine print;”
and, after some time, I had the satisfaction to hear
him declare, that if it was a cauda I wanted, there
was as good a place to step one, as could be found
about any monkey in the universe; “and you have
only to say the word, Sir John, and I will just step
into the next room, and by the help of my knife
and a little judgment in choosing, I'll fit you out
with a jury-article, which, if there be any ra'al
vartue in this sort of thing, will qualify you at once
to be a judge, or, for that matter, a bishop.”
We were now summoned again to the lecture-room,
and I had barely time to thank Captain Poke
for his obliging offer, which circumstances just
then, however, forbade my accepting.
| CHAPTER XI. The monikins | |