CHAPTER IX.
THE SEA-SERPENT.
| On the dark bottom of the great salt lake Imprisoned lay the giant snake, With naught his sullen sleep to break. Poets of the North, “Oelenschlæger.” Translated by Longfellow. |
That frank writer, Montaigne, says[252]:—
“Yet on the other side it is a sottish presumption to disdaine and condemne that for false, which unto us seemeth to beare no show of likelihood or truth: which is an ordinarie fault in those who perswade themselves to be of more sufficiencie than the vulgar sort.
“But reason hath taught me, that so resolutely to condemne a thing for false, and impossible, is to assume unto himself the advantage, to have the bounds and limits of God’s will, and of the power of our common mother Nature tied to his sleeve: and that there is no greater folly in the world, than to reduce them to the measure of our capacitie, and bounds of our sufficiencie.
“If we term those things monsters or miracles to which our reason cannot attain, how many such doe daily present themselves unto our sight? let us consider through what cloudes, and how blinde-folde we are led to the knowledge of most things, that passe our hands: verily we shall finde, it is rather custome, than Science that removeth the strangenesse of them from us: and that those things, were they newly presented unto us, wee should doubtless deeme them, as much, or more unlikely, and incredible, than any other.”
Montaigne’s remarks seem to me to apply as aptly to the much-vexed question of the existence or non-existence of the sea-serpent as though they had been specially written in reference to it.
The sea-serpent, at once the belief and the denied of scientific men; the accepted and ignored, according to their estimation of the evidence, of reasoners, not scientific perhaps, but intelligent and educated; the valued basis for items to the journalist, and the quintain for every self-sufficient gobemouche to tilt against; appearing mysteriously at long intervals and in distant places; the sea-serpent has as yet avoided capture and the honourable distinction of being catalogued and labelled in our museums.
Yet I do believe this weird creature to be a real solid fact, and not a fanciful hallucination. This assertion, however, has to be sustained under many difficulties. The dread of ridicule closes the mouths of many men who could speak upon the subject, while their dependent position forces them to submit to the half-bantering, half-warning expostulations of their employers. When, for example, an unimaginative shipowner breaks jests over his unfortunate shipmaster’s head, and significantly hints his hope (as I know to have been the case) that on his next voyage he will see no more sea-serpents, or, in other words, that the great monster belongs to the same genus as the snakes seen in the boots of a western dram-drinker, we may be sure that an important barrier is put to any further communication on the subject from that source, at least;[253] or when, again, some knot of idle youngsters enliven the monotony of a long voyage by preparing a deliberate hoax for publication on their arrival, a certain amount of discredit necessarily attaches to the monster on the ultimate exposure of the jest.