by Mark Twain
So the millions of years drag on; and meantime the fish culture is lazying along and frazzling out in a way to make a person tired. You have developed ten thousand kinds of fishes from the oyster; and come to look, you have raised nothing but fossils, nothing but extinctions. There is nothing left alive and progressive but a ganoid or two and perhaps half a dozen asteroids. Even the cat wouldn't eat such.
Still, it is no great matter; there is plenty of time, yet, and they will develop into something tasty before man is ready for them. Even a ganoid can be depended on for that, when he is not going to be called on for sixty million years.
The Paleozoic time limit having now been reached, it was necessary to begin the next stage in the preparation of the world for man, by opening up the Mesozoic Age and instituting some reptiles. For man would need reptiles. Not to eat, but to develop himself from. This being the most important detail of the scheme, a spacious liberality of time was set apart for it -- thirty million years. What wonders followed! From the remaining ganoids and asteroids and alkaloids were developed by slow and steady and painstaking culture those stupendous saurians that used to prowl about the steamy world in those remote ages, with their snaky heads reared forty feet in the air and sixty feet of body and tail racing and thrashing after. All gone, now, alas -- all extinct, except the little handful of Arkansawrians left stranded and lonely with us here upon this far-flung verge and fringe of time.
Yes, it took thirty million years and twenty million reptiles to get one that would stick long enough to develop into something else and let the scheme proceed to the next step.
Then the pterodactyl burst upon the world in all his impressive solemnity and grandeur, and all Nature recognized that the Cenozoic threshold was crossed and a new Period open for business, a new stage begun in the preparation of the globe for man. It may be that the pterodactyl thought the thirty million years had been intended as a preparation for himself, for there was nothing too foolish for a pterodactyl to imagine, but he was in error, the preparation was for man. Without doubt the pterodactyl attracted great attention, for even the least observant could see that there was the making of a bird in him. And so it turned out. Also the makings of a mammal, in time.
One thing we have to say to his credit, that in the matter of picturesqueness he was the triumph of his Period; he wore wings and had teeth, and was a starchy and wonderful mixture altogether, a kind of long-distance premonitory symptom of Kipling's marine:
'E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, nor 'e isn't one of the crew,
'E's a kind of a giddy harumfrodite -- soldier an' sailor too!
From this time onward for nearly another thirty million years the preparation moved briskly. From the pterodactyl was developed the bird; from the bird the kangaroo, from the kangaroo the other marsupials; from these the mastodon, the megatherium, the giant sloth, the Irish elk, and all that crowd that you make useful and instructive fossils out of -- then came the first great Ice Sheet, and they all retreated before it and crossed over the bridge at Bering Strait and wandered around over Europe and Asia and died. All except a few, to carry on the preparation with. Six Glacial Periods with two million years between Periods chased these poor orphans up and down and about the earth, from weather to weather -- from tropic swelter at the poles to Arctic frost at the equator and back again and to and fro, they never knowing what kind of weather was going to turn up next; and if ever they settled down anywhere the whole continent suddenly sank under them without the least notice and they had to trade places with the fishes and scramble off to where the seas had been, and scarcely a dry rag on them; and when there was nothing else doing a volcano would let go and fire them out from wherever they had located. They led this unsettled and irritating life for twenty-five million years, half the time afloat, half the time aground, and always wondering what it was all for, they never suspecting, of course, that it was a preparation for man and had to be done just so or it wouldn't be any proper and harmonious place for him when he arrived.
And at last came the monkey, and anybody could see that man wasn't far off, now. And in truth that was so. The monkey went on developing for close upon five million years, and then turned into a man -- to all appearances.
Such is the history of it. Man has been here 32,000 years. That it took a hundred million years to prepare the world for him is proof that that is what it was done for. I suppose it is. I dunno. If the Eiffel Tower were now representing the world's age, the skin of paint on the pinnacle-knob at its summit would represent man's share of that age; and anybody would perceive that that skin was what the tower was built for. I reckon they would, I dunno.
II IN THE ANIMALS' COURT
1.
THE RABBIT. The testimony showed (1) that the Rabbit, having declined to volunteer, was enlisted by compulsion, and (2) deserted in the face of the enemy on the eve of battle. Being asked if he had anything to say for himself before sentence of death should be passed upon him for violating the military law forbidding cowardice and desertion, he said he had not desired to violate that law, but had been obliged to obey a higher law which took precedence of it and set it aside. Being asked what law that was, he answered, "The law of God, which denies courage to the rabbit."
Verdict of the Court. To be disgraced in the presence of the army; stripped of his uniform; marched to the scaffold, bearing a placard marked "Coward," and hanged.
2.
THE LION. The testimony showed that the Lion, by his splendid courage and matchless strength and endurance, saved the battle.
Verdict of the Court. To be given a dukedom, his statue to be set up, his name to be writ in letters of gold at the top of the roll in the Temple of Fame.
3.
THE FOX. The testimony showed that he had broken the divine law, "Thou shalt not steal." Being asked for his defense, he pleaded that he had been obliged to obey the divine law, "The Fox shall steal."
Verdict of the Court. Imprisonment for life.
4.
THE HORSE. The evidence showed that he had spent many days and nights, unwatched, in the paddock with the poultry, yet had triumphed over temptation.
Verdict of the Court. Let his name be honored; let his deed be praised throughout the land by public proclamation.
5.
THE WOLF. The evidence showed that he had transgressed the law, "Thou shalt not kill." In arrest of judgment, he pleaded the law of his nature.
Verdict of the Court. Death.
6.
THE SHEEP. The evidence showed that he had had manifold temptations to commit murder and massacre, yet had not yielded.
Verdict of the Court. Let his virtue be remembered forever.
7.
THE MACHINE.
THE COURT: Prisoner, it is charged and proven that you are poorly contrived and badly constructed. What have you to say to this?
ANSWER: I did not contrive myself, I did not construct myself.
THE COURT: It is charged and proven that you have moved when you should not have moved; that you have turned out of your course when you should have gone straight; that you have moved swiftly through crowds when the law and the public weal forbade a speed like that; that you leave a stench behind you wherever you go, and you persist in this, although you know it is improper and that other machines refrain from doing it. What have you to say to these things?
ANSWER: I am a machine. I am slave to the law of my make, I have to obey it, under all conditions. I do nothing, of myself. My forces are set in motion by outside influences, I never set them in motion myself.
THE COURT: You are discharged. Your plea is sufficient. You are a pretty poor thing, with some good qualities and some bad ones; but to attach personal merit to conduct emanating from the one set, and personal demerit to conduct emanating from the other set would be unfair and unjust. To a machine, that is -- to a machine.
Ill ZOLA'S LA TERRE
Have you read Zola's fearful book, La Terre? If so, did it not seem to you impossible, unbeliev
able that people such as those in that book are to be found in actual existence in any Christian land today? Were you able at any time, from the beginning to the end, to shake off the feeling that the tale was a hideous unreality, a tumultuous and ghastly nightmare, through which you were being whirled and buffeted helpless? Did the thought at any time come crashing into your dismayed mind, "What if this is no dream, but reality, and a picture of phases of life to be found here and there in all Christian lands!" That is a startling thought, isn't it? Well, I have just finished that book, and what I have said above indicates what happened to me: that is to say, chapter after chapter seemed to be only frightful inventions, crazy inventions of an obscene mind; then came the conviction that the tale was true, absolutely true, photographically true; and finally came that hair-lifting thought which I have mentioned.
But never mind about that, now. The thing that attracted my attention to the book was the rather doubtful statement, in a review, that its serial reproduction in a French newspaper had to be stopped, for the reason that the tale was so foul that the French people could not stand it. A story so foul that the French people could not stand it; why, that is like speaking of food that was so appetizing that no Frenchman would put up with it. Cold sarcasm like that revolts one; but I wanted to find out what the real reason was, so I sent for the book. Well, certainly, as a sustained effort in the way of filth, and opulent variety of filthy material, and constant and conscientious attention to filthy detail, it does beat any French book I ever saw before, and that is the very truth. There are five hundred and eighteen pages in it; and if there is a single page that would bear translation into English without the use of blanks, I must have skipped it. The book calls a spade a spade, all the time; and that is death to translation, of course. However, it is only as a sustained effort that La Terre stands at the head -- or the other end -- of French fiction. In other French novels there are scattering situations -- with the proper French fidelity to detail -- that are really more terrific than any which this book can show.
Now what I am coming at, is this: are there any villages in America whose people resemble the community described in Zola's book? If one is asked this question suddenly, he will feel a shock, and will answer, "Impossible!" But let him stop and think.
Perhaps he will not answer up so confidently, next time. After reflection, after calling up particulars lying here and there half-buried in his memory, he will probably grant that there are in America villages that "resemble" that one, in some ways, even in many ways. Well, that is a sufficient concession. Will he go further, and name the state? And if he will, will he name Massachusetts? Yes, under certain limitations, he will name Massachusetts. He will proceed in this way. He will say that without doubt Zola has suppressed the bulk of his villagers -- the worthy and the good -- and has confined himself to the few and awful. If that was his way, then it may be granted that he could have got material for a modified and yet dreadful enough La Terre out of the "few and awful" minority findable in a Massachusetts village. When you have granted that, in the case of Massachusetts, do you feel daring enough to deny it in the case of any other state in the Union? Hardly, I suppose.
It is very, very curious -- the results that gradually come out, when Zola's fearful book sets you to thinking. The first chapter amazed you; when you read it, it seemed so grotesquely outside of the nineteenth-century possibilities. But reflection changes your mind. You turn over your moss-grown facts, and know that those circumstances have been repeated in America. Once? Oh, no, several hundred thousand times. How far will your thinking carry you? And what will you arrive at? This: that there is hardly an accident or a conversation in the book that has not repeated itself hundreds and hundreds of times in America, and all over America. And then you will go still further and remember some other things that have happened in America -- things still more hideously revolting than even the most atrocious thing in Zola's volume.
How strange it is to reflect that that book is true. But it is. You have to confess it at last. Then you are aware of a grudge against him. Because he has exposed those odious French people to you? No; but because he has exposed your own people to you.
You were asleep, and had forgotten; he has waked you up. You owe him a grudge --
and will keep it.
IV THE INTELLIGENCE OF GOD
He made all things. There is not in the universe a thing, great or small, which He did not make. He pronounced His work "good." The word covers the whole of it; it puts the seal of His approval upon each detail of it, it praises each detail of it. We also approve and praise -- with our mouths. We do it loudly, we do it fervently -- also judiciously. Judiciously. For we do not enter into particulars. Daily we pour out freshets of disapproval, dispraise, censure, passionate resentment, upon a considerable portion of the work -- but not with our mouths. No, it is our acts that betray us, not our words.
Our words are all compliments, and they deceive Him. Without a doubt they do. They make Him think we approve of all His works.
That is the way we argue. For ages we have taught ourselves to believe that when we hide a disapproving fact, burying it under a mountain of complimentary lies, He is not aware of it, does not notice it, perceives only the compliments, and is deceived.
But is it really so? Among ourselves we concede that acts speak louder than words, but we have persuaded ourselves that in His case it is different; we imagine that all He cares for is words -- noise; that if we make the words pretty enough they will blind Him to the acts that give them the lie.
But seriously, does anyone really believe that? Is it not a daring affront to the Supreme Intelligence to believe such a thing? Does any of us inordinately praise a mother's whole family to her face, indiscriminately, and in that same moment slap one of her children? Would not that act turn our inflamed eulogy into nonsense? Would the mother be deceived? Would she not be offended -- and properly? But see what we do in His case. We approve all His works, we praise all His works, with a fervent enthusiasm -
- of words; and in the same moment we kill a fly, which is as much one of His works as is any other, and has been included and complimented in our sweeping eulogy. We not only kill the fly, but we do it in a spirit of measureless disapproval -- even a spirit of hatred, exasperation, vindictiveness; and we regard that creature with disgust and loathing -- which is the essence of contempt -- and yet we have just been praising it, approving it, glorifying it. We have been praising it to its Maker, and now our act insults its Maker. The praise was dishonest, the act is honest; the one was wordy hypocrisy, the other is compact candor.
We hunt the fly remorselessly; also the flea, the rat, the snake, the disease germ and a thousand other creatures which He pronounced good, and was satisfied with, and which we loudly praise and approve -- with our mouths -- and then harry and chase and malignantly destroy, by wholesale.
Manifestly this is not well, not wise, not right. It breeds falsehood and sham.
Would He be offended if we should change it and appear before Him with the truth in our mouths as well as in our acts? May we not, trustingly and without fear change our words and say:
"O Source of Truth, we have lied, and we repent. Hear us confess that which we have felt from the beginning of time, but have weakly tried to conceal from Thee: humbly we praise and glorify many of Thy works, and are grateful for their presence in our earth, Thy footstool, but not all of them."
That would be sufficient. It would not be necessary to name the exceptions.
V THE LOWEST ANIMAL*
* This was to have been prefaced by newspaper clippings which, apparently, dealt with religious persecutions in Crete. The clippings have been lost. They probably referred to the Cretan revolt of 1897. [B. DV.]
In August, 1572, similar things were occurring in Paris and elsewhere in France.
In this case it was Christian against Christian. The Roman Catholics, by previous concert, sprang a surprise upon the unprepared and unsuspecting Protestants, and butchered the
m by thousands -- both sexes and all ages. This was the memorable St.
Bartholomew's Day. At Rome the Pope and the Church gave public thanks to God when the happy news came.
During several centuries hundreds of heretics were burned at the stake every year because their religious opinions were not satisfactory to the Roman Church.
In all ages the savages of all lands have made the slaughtering of their neighboring brothers and the enslaving of their women and children the common business of their lives.
Hypocrisy, envy, malice, cruelty, vengefulness, seduction, rape, robbery, swindling, arson, bigamy, adultery, and the oppression and humiliation of the poor and the helpless in all ways have been and still are more or less common among both the civilized and uncivilized peoples of the earth.
For many centuries "the common brotherhood of man" has been urged -- on Sundays -- and "patriotism" on Sundays and weekdays both. Yet patriotism contemplates the opposite of a common brotherhood.
Woman's equality with man has never been conceded by any people, ancient or modern, civilized or savage.
I have been studying the traits and dispositions of the "lower animals" (so-called), and contrasting them with the traits and dispositions of man. I find the result humiliating to me. For it obliges me to renounce my allegiance to the Darwinian theory of the Ascent of Man from the Lower Animals; since it now seems plain to me that that theory ought to be vacated in favor of a new and truer one, this new and truer one to be named the Descent of Man from the Higher Animals.
