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VI “I
observe,” said Doctor Darwin, looking up from a perusal of an asbestos copy of
the London Times — “I observe that an American professor has discovered
that monkeys talk. I consider that a very interesting fact.” “It
undoubtedly is,” observed Doctor Livingstone, “though hardly new. I never
said anything about it over in the other world, but I discovered years ago in
Africa that monkeys were quite as well able to hold a sustained conversation
with each other as most men are.” “And I, too,” put in Baron Munchausen, “have frequently conversed with monkeys. I made myself a master of their idioms during my brief sojourn in — ah — in — well, never mind where. I never could remember the names of places. The interesting point is that at one period of my life I was a master of the monkey language. I have even gone so far as to write a sonnet in Simian, which was quite as intelligible to the uneducated as nine-tenths of the sonnets written in English or American.”  ‘AND I, TOO,’ PUT IN BARON MUNCHAUSEN, ‘HAVE FREQUENTLY CONVERSED WITH MONKEYS’ “Do you
mean to say that you could acquire the monkey accent?” asked Doctor Darwin,
immediately interested. “In most
instances,” returned the Baron, suavely, “though of course not in all. I
found the same difficulty in some cases that the German or the Chinaman finds
when he tries to speak French. A Chinaman can no more say Trocadéro, for
instance, as the Frenchman says it, than he can fly. That peculiar
throaty aspirate the Frenchman gives to the first syllable, as though it were
spelled trhoque, is utterly beyond the Chinese — and beyond the American, too,
whose idea of the tonsillar aspirate leads him to speak of the trochedeero,
naturally falling back upon troches to help him out of his laryngeal
difficulties.” “You ought
to have been on the staff of Punch, Baron,” said Thackeray,
quietly. “That joke would have made you immortal.” “I am
immortal,” said the Baron. “But to return to our discussion of the Simian
tongue: as I was saying, there were some little points about the accent that I
could never get, and, as in the case of the German and Chinaman with the French
language, the trouble was purely physical. When you consider that in
polite Simian society most of the talkers converse while swinging by their
tails from the limb of a tree, with a sort of droning accent, which results
from their swaying to and fro, you will see at once why it was that I, deprived
by nature of the necessary apparatus with which to suspend myself in mid-air,
was unable to quite catch the quality which gives its chief charm to
monkey-talk.” “I should
hardly think that a man of your fertile resources would have let so small a
thing as that stand in his way,” said Doctor Livingstone. “When a man is
able to make a reputation for himself like yours, in which material facts are
never allowed to interfere with his doing what he sets out to do, he ought not to
be daunted by the need of a tail. If you could make a cherry-tree grow
out of a deer’s head, I fail to see why you could not personally grow a tail,
or anything else you might happen to need for the attainment of your ends.” “I was not
so anxious to get the accent as all that,” returned the Baron. “I don’t
think it is necessary for a man to make a monkey of himself just for the
pleasure of mastering a language. Reasoning similarly, a man to master
the art of braying in a fashion comprehensible to the jackass of average
intellect should make a jackass of himself, cultivate his ears, and learn to
kick, so as properly to punctuate his sentences after the manner of most
conversational beasts of that kind.” “Then you
believe that jackasses talk, too, do you?” asked Doctor Darwin. “Why not?”
said the Baron. “If monkeys, why not donkeys? Certainly they
do. All creatures have some means of communicating their thoughts to each
other. Why man in his conceit should think otherwise I don’t know, unless
it be that the birds and beasts in their conceit probably think that they alone
of all the creatures in the world can talk.” “I haven’t
a doubt,” said Doctor Livingstone, “that monkeys listening to men and women
talking think they are only jabbering.” “They’re
not far from wrong in most cases if they do,” said Doctor Johnson, who up to
this time had been merely an interested listener. “I’ve thought that many
a time myself.” “Which is
perhaps, in a slight degree, a confirmation of my theory,” put in Darwin.
“If Doctor Johnson’s mind runs in the same channels that the monkey’s mind runs
in, why may we not say that Doctor Johnson, being a man, has certain qualities
of the monkey, and is therefore, in a sense, of the same strain?” “You may
say what you please,” retorted Johnson, wrathfully, “but I’ll make you prove
what you say about me.” “I
wouldn’t if I were you,” said Doctor Livingstone, in a peace-making
spirit. “It would not be a pleasant task for you, compelling our friend
to prove you descended from the ape. I should think you’d prefer to make
him leave it unproved.” “Have
monkeys Boswells?” queried Thackeray. “I don’t
know anything about ’em,” said Johnson, petulantly. “No more
do I,” said Darwin, “and I didn’t mean to be offensive, my dear Johnson.
If I claim Simian ancestry for you, I claim it equally for myself.” “Well, I’m
no snob,” said Johnson, unmollified. “If you want to brag about your
ancestors, do it. Leave mine alone. Stick to your own genealogical
orchard.” “Well, I
believe fully that we are all descended from the ape,” said Munchausen.
“There isn’t any doubt in my mind that before the flood all men had
tails. Noah had a tail. Shem, Ham, and Japheth had tails.
It’s perfectly reasonable to believe it. The Ark in a sense proved
it. It would have been almost impossible for Noah and his sons to
construct the Ark in the time they did with the assistance of only two hands
apiece. Think, however, of how fast they could work with the assistance
of that third arm. Noah could hammer a clapboard on to the Ark with two
hands while grasping a saw and cutting a new board or planing it off with his
tail. So with the others. We all know how much a third hand would
help us at times.” “But how
do you account for its disappearance?” put in Doctor Livingstone. “Is it
likely they would dispense with such a useful adjunct?” “No, it
isn’t; but there are various ways of accounting for its loss,” said
Munchausen. “They may have overworked it building the Ark; Shem, Ham, or
Japheth may have had his caught in the door of the Ark and cut off in the hurry
of the departure; plenty of things may have happened to eliminate it. Men
lose their hair and their teeth; why might not a man lose a tail?
Scientists say that coming generations far in the future will be toothless and
bald. Why may it not be that through causes unknown to us we are
similarly deprived of something our forefathers had?” “The only
reason for man’s losing his hair is that he wears a hat all the time,” said
Livingstone. “The Derby hat is the enemy of hair. It is hot, and
dries up the scalp. You might as well try to raise watermelons in the
Desert of Sahara as to try to raise hair under the modern hat. In fact,
the modern hat is a furnace.” “Well,
it’s a mighty good furnace,” observed Munchausen. “You don’t have to put
coal on the modern hat.” “Perhaps,”
interposed Thackeray, “the ancients wore their hats on their tails.” “Well, I
have a totally different theory,” said Johnson. “You
always did have,” observed Munchausen. “Very
likely,” said Johnson. “To be commonplace never was my ambition.” “What is
your theory?” queried Livingstone. “Well — I
don’t know,” said Johnson, “if it be worth expressing.” “It may be
worth sending by freight,” interrupted Thackeray. “Let us have it.” “Well, I
believe,” said Johnson — “I believe that Adam was a monkey.” “He
behaved like one,” ejaculated Thackeray. “I believe
that the forbidden tree was a tender one, and therefore the only one upon which
Adam was forbidden to swing by his tail,” said Johnson. “Clear
enough — so far,” said Munchausen. “But that
the possession of tails by Adam and Eve entailed a love of swinging thereby,
and that they could not resist the temptation to swing from every limb in Eden,
and that therefore, while Adam was off swinging on other trees, Eve took a
swing on the forbidden tree; that Adam, returning, caught her in the act, and
immediately gave way himself and swung,” said Johnson. “Then you
eliminate the serpent?” queried Darwin. “Not a bit
of it,” Johnson answered. “The serpent was the tail. Look at most
snakes to-day. What are they but unattached tails?” “They do
look it,” said Darwin, thoughtfully. “Why, it’s
clear as day,” said Johnson. “As punishment Adam and Eve lost their
tails, and the tail itself was compelled to work for a living and do its own
walking.” “I never
thought of that,” said Darwin. “It seems reasonable.” “It is
reasonable,” said Johnson. “And the
snakes of the present day?” queried Thackeray. “I believe
to be the missing tails of men,” said Johnson. “Somewhere in the world is
a tail for every man and woman and child. Where one’s tail is no one can
ever say, but that it exists simultaneously with its owner I believe. The
abhorrence man has for snakes is directly attributable to his abhorrence for
all things which have deprived him of something that is good. If Adam’s
tail had not tempted him to swing on the forbidden tree, we should all of us
have been able through life to relax from business cares after the manner of
the monkey, who is happy from morning until night.” “Well, I
can’t see that it does us any good to sit here and discuss this matter,” said
Doctor Livingstone. “We can’t reach any conclusion. The only way to
settle the matter, it seems to me, is to go directly to Adam, who is a member
of this club, and ask him how it was.” “That’s a
great idea,” said Thackeray, scornfully. “You’d look well going up to a
man and saying, ‘Excuse me, sir, but — ah — were you ever a monkey?’” “To say
nothing of catechising a man on the subject of an old and dreadful scandal,”
put in Munchausen. “I’m surprised at you, Livingstone. African
etiquette seems to have ruined your sense of propriety.” “I’d just
as lief ask him,” said Doctor Johnson. “Etiquette? Bah! What
business has etiquette to stand in the way of human knowledge?
Conventionality is the last thing men of brains should strive after, and I, for
one, am not going to be bound by it.” Here Doctor Johnson touched the electric bell, and in an instant the shade of a buttons appeared.  “ ‘BOY, IS ADAM IN THE CLUB-HOUSE TODAY?’ ” “Boy, is
Adam in the club-house to-day?” asked the sage. “I’ll go
and see, sir,” said the boy, and he immediately departed. “Good boy
that,” said Thackeray. “Yes; but
the service in this club is dreadful, considering what we might have,” said
Darwin. “With Aladdin a member of this club, I don’t see why we can’t
have his lamp with genii galore to respond. It certainly would be more
economical.” “True; but
I, for one, don’t care to fool with genii,” said Munchausen. “When one
member can summon a servant who is strong enough to take another member and do
him up in a bottle and cast him into the sea, I have no use for the
system. Plain ordinary mortal shades are good enough for me.” As
Munchausen spoke, the boy returned. “Mr. Adam
isn’t here to-day, sir,” he said, addressing Doctor Johnson. “And Charon
says he’s not likely to be here, sir, seeing as how his account is closed, not
having been settled for three months.” “Good,”
said Thackeray. “I was afraid he was here. I don’t want to have him
asked about his Eden experiences in my behalf. That’s personality.” “Well,
then, there’s only one other thing to do,” said Darwin. “Munchausen
claims to be able to speak Simian. He might seek out some of the
prehistoric monkeys and put the question to them.” “No, thank
you,” said Munchausen. “I’m a little rusty in the language, and, besides,
you talk like an idiot. You might as well speak of the human language as
the Simian language. There are French monkeys who speak monkey French,
African monkeys who talk the most barbarous kind of Zulu monkey patois, and
Congo monkey slang, and so on. Let Johnson send his little Boswell out to
drum up information. If there is anything to be found out he’ll get it,
and then he can tell it to us. Of course he may get it all wrong, but it
will be entertaining, and we’ll never know any difference.” Which
seemed to the others a good idea, but whatever came of it I have not been
informed. |
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