While man can to a certain extent enter into the feelings of a large proportion of the animal creation, it is beyond his power to imagine himself an octopus, or to get himself en rapport with its thoughts. Has it any higher impulses? Is it naturally cruel, or does it view its own methods and conduct from a strictly business point? Does it persuade itself that it is an estimable character? Is it in its own private circle affectionate and domesticated? Has it the power of discussing passing events with its congeners, and exchanging views as to the flavour of the various fish that form its diet, or as to advantageous spots for ambush? We can answer none of these questions. It certainly has but a small chance of leading a higher life. The subterranean world it sees around it is full of strife and destruction. “The large fish eat the smaller fish, and so on ad infinitum.” It only plays the same game as those around it, but by different methods, and there is no reason, because those methods are repugnant to us, that the octopus should be of the same opinion. Man is singularly intolerant in such matters. He himself kills the creatures he requires for food either by knocking them on the head, by cutting their throats, or by shooting them. Fish he captures either with nets or with a hook which sticks into their mouth or throat. And yet he criticises severely the methods of the animal creation. He dislikes the spider because like a fisherman it catches its prey in nets. He shudders at the cat because it plays with its victim just as the angler does. He is shocked because the octopus lies in wait for its prey and lassoes it as it passes. There is, in fact, no pleasing man, and he is shocked at all methods of killing, even at that most closely resembling those which he himself employs in slaying the creatures on which he feeds. We fear that there is a great deal of humbug about human susceptibilities.
Some of the cuttle fish are large manufacturers of ink. These, instead of anchoring themselves to the bottom, float near the surface, and their chance of obtaining food would be small were it not for their power of ejecting ink, and thus clouding the water and veiling themselves from sight—a habit which also affords them a method of escape when themselves attacked by the shark or other formidable enemy. This method is not unknown to man, and several well-known instances might be adduced of public men who, after having by loose assertions brought a formidable opponent down upon them, escape under a cloud of misleading words, phrases, and explanations that explain nothing, and retractions that leave the matter as it was before. Seeing that the peculiar variety of ink secreted by the cuttle fish is of a very valuable kind, it is somewhat remarkable that no enterprising manufacturer has as yet taken the matter in hand and established an aqueous farm for the breeding and rearing of cuttle fish. Indian ink and sepia are both so valuable that such an enterprise ought to pay handsome profits, and if the oyster can be cultivated, why not the cuttle fish? It would, of course, be necessary that the retaining walls of the gigantic aquarium indicated should be impervious to the passing of cuttle fish even in their earliest stage. Otherwise the proprietors would be liable very speedily to be indicted as a nuisance by the lodging-house keepers and owners of bathing machines of the nearest sea-side watering places. But this could doubtless be effected, and then no argument could be adduced that the cuttle fish should necessarily be a nuisance to their neighbours that would not equally apply to the wild beasts at a menagerie. In the latter case one occasionally breaks out and causes consternation, and, possibly, damage, and even if an octopus should do the same there could be no very valid ground for complaint. As the squid when cooked furnishes a somewhat gelatinous food not altogether dissimilar to calf’s head, it is probable that the flesh of the larger varieties might be utilised for the manufacture of mock turtle, and another source of revenue would, therefore, be open to their breeders. It is clear from these remarks that the cuttle fish has not hitherto received the careful consideration that it deserves, and the dislike we feel for its form and habits has blinded us to the benefits that might with culture and domestication be derived from it.
THE BACILLUS.
HAD the learned Linnæus been informed that there existed a creature of which he had taken no account, which exercised a much larger influence upon the fortunes and happiness of man than any of those which he so laboriously arranged and classified, he would have smiled the smile of incredulity. But just as it is but within the present century that mankind has awoke to the enormous power and usefulness of steam and electricity, so it is only within the last ten or fifteen years that he has attained to the knowledge of the existence of the demon bacillus, who has sprung at a bound into the position of man’s deadliest enemy. Secretiveness must be assigned the first place among the characteristics of the bacillus. Since man first appeared upon earth this scourge must have carried on its deadly work, and heaped up a hecatomb of victims in comparison to which those who have perished by war or by famine are but an insignificant handful; and yet man has pursued his way in the blindest ignorance of the very existence of his indefatigable enemy.
Even yet comparatively few people are aware of the personal peculiarities of the bacillus, or could describe with any approach to accuracy the difference between the allied tribes, each of which represents some form or other of disease or death, and the scientific men who are so actively busying themselves in counteracting its work are very chary of describing its personal peculiarities. When these are more generally understood it will probably lead to a revolution in art. The artist of other days who wished to convey to the beholder that the personage depicted was in imminent peril of his life could find no better means of doing so than by placing behind him a shadowy figure with a death’s head and skeleton arms holding a dart. This childish representation can no longer be tolerated, and the artist of the future will have only to depict hovering over the principal figure a bacillus, and the beholder will at once understand not only that death is impending, but will be able to distinguish from the characteristics of the bacillus whether it will take the form of consumption, typhoid, small-pox, or other disease. This will be of vast utility in the painting of historical personages, as no questions can arise centuries later as to the cause of their death, the disease of which they died being clearly indicated by the accompanying bacillus, which, of course, will in future be appended to every posthumous portrait.
It is mortifying to human vanity to reflect that for some sixty centuries, at the shortest computation, man has been taking all sorts of pains to protect himself against minor dangers, in absolute ignorance of the bacillus fiend in his midst. Against the wild beast and the snake he has waged open warfare. He has covered himself with armour to protect himself from the weapons of human foes. He has furnished his ships with lifeboats, he has placed trap-doors in the roofs of his houses to afford an escape in case of fire, and has invented the safety lamp as a protection for those who work in mines. He has muzzled the dog in order to escape the fabulously remote risk of hydrophobia, and he has laid down strict regulations to diminish the chances of his being blown up by explosives. He has fenced himself in by sanitary regulations to preserve himself against the evil effect of foul smells, and has flattered himself that by these and many other precautions he has done what he could to ensure for himself prolonged life. And yet all this time the bacillus has been carrying on his work unsuspected, laughing, in whatever passes as his sleeve, as he yearly sweeps away his tens of millions of victims. It has, in fact, been a new and terrible illustration of the saying, “Out of sight, out of mind.” Proud man, who slays the whale for its oil, and the elephant for its ivory, has been slain by his invisible foe, the bacillus; and, like a soldier brought down by a long range bullet, has not even had the satisfaction of knowing who was his slayer.
Cholera Bacillus
(Natural Size).