Pros and Cons

At the period when these events took place, I had just returned from a scientific research in the disagreeable territory of Nebraska, in the United States. In virtue of my office as Assistant Professor in the Museum of Natural History in Paris, the French Government had attached me to that expedition. After six months in Nebraska, I arrived in New York towards the end of March, laden with a precious collection. My departure for France was fixed for the first days in May. Meanwhile, I was occupying myself in classifying my mineralogical, botanical, and zoological riches, when the accident happened to the Scotia.

When these events took place, I had just returned from scientific research in the unpleasant territory of Nebraska, in the United States. The French Government had assigned me to the expedition because I was an Assistant Professor at the Museum of Natural History in Paris. After six months in Nebraska, I arrived in New York toward the end of March, carrying a valuable collection. I was scheduled to leave for France in early May. Meanwhile, I was sorting my mineral, plant, and animal treasures when the accident happened to the Scotia.

I was perfectly up in the subject which was the question of the day. How could I be otherwise? I had read and re-read all the American and European papers without being any nearer a conclusion. This mystery puzzled me. Under the impossibility of forming an opinion, I jumped from one extreme to the other. That there really was something could not be doubted, and the incredulous were invited to put their finger on the wound of the Scotia.

I knew all about the subject everyone was talking about. How could I not? I had read and reread all the American and European newspapers, but I was no closer to a conclusion. The mystery puzzled me. Unable to form an opinion, I swung from one extreme to the other. There was no doubt that something really existed. Anyone who disagreed could look at the damage to the Scotia.

On my arrival at New York the question was at its height. The hypothesis of the floating island, and the unapproachable sandbank, supported by minds little competent to form a judgment, was abandoned. And, indeed, unless this shoal had a machine in its stomach, how could it change its position with such astonishing rapidity?

When I arrived in New York, the question was at its height. The theory that it was a floating island or an unreachable sandbank had been abandoned. Only people with little ability to judge had supported it. After all, unless the sandbank had a machine in its stomach, how could it move so astonishingly fast?

From the same cause, the idea of a floating hull of an enormous wreck was given up.

For the same reason, the idea that it was the floating hull of an enormous wreck was abandoned.

There remained then only two possible solutions of the question, which created two distinct parties: on one side, those who were for a monster of colossal strength; on the other, those who were for a submarine vessel of enormous motive power.

Only two possible explanations remained, and people split into two groups. One group believed it was a tremendously powerful monster. The other believed it was a submarine vessel with an enormously powerful engine.

But this last hypothesis, plausible as it was, could not stand against inquiries made in both worlds. That a private gentleman should have such a machine at his command was not likely. Where, when, and how was it built? and how could its construction have been kept secret? Certainly a Government might possess such a destructive machine. And in these disastrous times, when the ingenuity of man has multiplied the power of weapons of war, it was possible that, without the knowledge of others, a state might try to work such a formidable engine. After the chassepots came the torpedoes, after the torpedoes the submarine rams, then—the reaction. At least, I hope so.

But this last theory, plausible as it was, could not withstand inquiries on both sides of the Atlantic. It seemed unlikely that a private individual could have such a machine at his command. Where, when, and how was it built? How could its construction have been kept secret? A government, certainly, might possess such a destructive machine. In these disastrous times, human ingenuity has made weapons of war more powerful. A state might therefore try to operate such a formidable machine without others knowing. First came the chassepots, then the torpedoes, then the submarine rams, and then, a reaction against them. At least, I hope so.

But the hypothesis of a war machine fell before the declaration of Governments. As public interest was in question, and transatlantic communications suffered, their veracity could not be doubted. But, how admit that the construction of this submarine boat had escaped the public eye? For a private gentleman to keep the secret under such circumstances would be very difficult, and for a state whose every act is persistently watched by powerful rivals, certainly impossible.

But statements from governments ruled out the theory that it was a war machine. Public interests were at stake, and transatlantic communications were suffering, so the governments could not be doubted. But how could such a submarine have been built without the public noticing? It would be very difficult for a private individual to keep it secret under such circumstances. For a state, whose every action is closely watched by powerful rivals, it would certainly be impossible.

After inquiries made in England, France, Russia, Prussia, Spain, Italy, and America, even in Turkey, the hypothesis of a submarine monitor was definitely rejected.

After inquiries in England, France, Russia, Prussia, Spain, Italy, America, and even Turkey, the submarine monitor theory was definitively rejected.

Upon my arrival in New York several persons did me the honour of consulting me on the phenomenon in question. I had published in France a work in quarto, in two volumes, entitled “Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds.” This book, highly approved of in the learned world, gained for me a special reputation in this rather obscure branch of Natural History. My advice was asked. As long as I could deny the reality of the fact, I confined myself to a decided negative. But soon, finding myself driven into a corner, I was obliged to explain myself categorically. And even “the Honourable Pierre Aronnax, Professor in the Museum of Paris,” was called upon by the New York Herald to express a definite opinion of some sort. I did something. I spoke, for want of power to hold my tongue. I discussed the question in all its forms, politically and scientifically; and I give here an extract from a carefully-studied article which I published in the number of the 30th of April. It ran as follows:—

When I arrived in New York, several people did me the honor of asking my opinion about the phenomenon. In France, I had published a two-volume quarto work called “Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds.” The book was highly praised by scholars. It earned me a special reputation in this rather obscure branch of natural history. People asked for my advice. As long as I could deny that the phenomenon was real, I simply gave a firm no. But soon I found myself backed into a corner and had to explain myself clearly. Even “the Honourable Pierre Aronnax, Professor in the Museum of Paris,” was asked by the New York Herald to express some definite opinion. So I did something. I spoke because I could not keep quiet. I discussed every aspect of the question, both political and scientific. Here is an extract from a carefully considered article I published in the April 30 issue. It read as follows:

“After examining one by one the different hypotheses, rejecting all other suggestions, it becomes necessary to admit the existence of a marine animal of enormous power.

“After examining each hypothesis and rejecting all the other suggestions, we must admit that an enormously powerful sea animal exists.

“The great depths of the ocean are entirely unknown to us. Soundings cannot reach them. What passes in those remote depths—what beings live, or can live, twelve or fifteen miles beneath the surface of the waters—what is the organisation of these animals, we can scarcely conjecture. However, the solution of the problem submitted to me may modify the form of the dilemma. Either we do know all the varieties of beings which people our planet, or we do not. If we do not know them all—if Nature has still secrets in ichthyology for us, nothing is more conformable to reason than to admit the existence of fishes, or cetaceans of other kinds, or even of new species, of an organisation formed to inhabit the strata inaccessible to soundings, and which an accident of some sort, either fatastical or capricious, has brought at long intervals to the upper level of the ocean.

“The great depths of the ocean are completely unknown to us. Sounding lines cannot reach them. We can scarcely guess what happens in those remote depths or what creatures live, or can live, twelve or fifteen miles beneath the surface. We can scarcely guess how these animals are structured. However, the solution to the problem submitted to me may change the form of the dilemma. Either we know all the varieties of creatures that inhabit our planet, or we do not. If we do not know them all, nature may still hold secrets about fish. In that case, it is entirely reasonable to admit that other kinds of fish or cetaceans, or even new species, may exist. Their bodies may be adapted to live in depths beyond the reach of sounding lines. Some fantastic or capricious accident may have brought them to the upper ocean at long intervals.

“If, on the contrary, we do know all living kinds, we must necessarily seek for the animal in question amongst those marine beings already classed; and, in that case, I should be disposed to admit the existence of a gigantic narwhal.

“On the other hand, if we do know all living species, the animal must be among the marine creatures already classified. In that case, I would be inclined to believe that a gigantic narwhal exists.

“The common narwhal, or unicorn of the sea, often attains a length of sixty feet. Increase its size fivefold or tenfold, give it strength proportionate to its size, lengthen its destructive weapons, and you obtain the animal required. It will have the proportions determined by the officers of the Shannon, the instrument required by the perforation of the Scotia, and the power necessary to pierce the hull of the steamer.

“The common narwhal, or unicorn of the sea, often grows to sixty feet long. Make it five or ten times larger and give it strength to match. Lengthen its destructive weapons, and you have the animal we need. It would have the dimensions reported by the officers of the Shannon. It would have the weapon needed to make the hole in the Scotia. And it would have the power needed to pierce the steamer’s hull.

“Indeed, the narwhal is armed with a sort of ivory sword, a halberd, according to the expression of certain naturalists. The principal tusk has the hardness of steel. Some of these tusks have been found buried in the bodies of whales, which the unicorn always attacks with success. Others have been drawn out, not without trouble, from the bottoms of ships, which they had pierced through and through, as a gimlet pierces a barrel. The Museum of the Faculty of Medicine of Paris possesses one of these defensive weapons, two yards and a quarter in length, and fifteen inches in diameter at the base.

“Indeed, the narwhal is armed with a kind of ivory sword, or a halberd, as some naturalists call it. Its main tusk is as hard as steel. Some tusks have been found buried in the bodies of whales, which the narwhal always attacks successfully. Others have been pulled out of the bottoms of ships, though not without difficulty. The tusks had pierced right through them, like a gimlet through a barrel. The Museum of the Faculty of Medicine of Paris has one of these defensive weapons. It is two and a quarter yards long and fifteen inches in diameter at the base.

“Very well! suppose this weapon to be six times stronger and the animal ten times more powerful; launch it at the rate of twenty miles an hour, and you obtain a shock capable of producing the catastrophe required. Until further information, therefore, I shall maintain it to be a sea-unicorn of colossal dimensions, armed not with a halberd, but with a real spur, as the armoured frigates, or the ‘rams’ of war, whose massiveness and motive power it would possess at the same time. Thus may this puzzling phenomenon be explained, unless there be something over and above all that one has ever conjectured, seen, perceived, or experienced; which is just within the bounds of possibility.”

“Very well! Suppose this weapon is six times stronger and the animal ten times more powerful. Send it forward at twenty miles an hour, and the impact could cause the catastrophe in question. Until we know more, I will maintain that it is a colossal sea-unicorn. It is armed not with a halberd, but with a real spur, like an armored frigate or a warship called a ‘ram.’ It would also have the mass and driving power of such a ship. This could explain the puzzling phenomenon, unless something exists beyond all that anyone has ever imagined, seen, perceived, or experienced. That is just within the bounds of possibility.”

These last words were cowardly on my part; but, up to a certain point, I wished to shelter my dignity as Professor, and not give too much cause for laughter to the Americans, who laugh well when they do laugh.

Those last words were cowardly of me. But, to some extent, I wanted to protect my dignity as a professor. I also didn't want to give the Americans too much reason to laugh, for they laugh heartily when they do laugh.

I reserved for myself a way of escape. In effect, however, I admitted the existence of the “monster.” My article was warmly discussed, which procured it a high reputation. It rallied round it a certain number of partisans. The solution it proposed gave, at least, full liberty to the imagination. The human mind delights in grand conceptions of supernatural beings. And the sea is precisely their best vehicle, the only medium through which these giants (against which terrestrial animals, such as elephants or rhinoceroses, are as nothing) can be produced or developed.

I left myself a way out. In effect, though, I admitted that the “monster” existed. My article sparked lively debate, which earned it a strong reputation. It also gained a number of supporters. At least, the explanation it offered gave the imagination free rein. The human mind delights in grand visions of supernatural beings. And the sea is the perfect home for them. It is the only place where such giants can appear or grow. Land animals, such as elephants and rhinoceroses, are nothing beside them.

The industrial and commercial papers treated the question chiefly from this point of view. The Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, the Lloyd’s List, the Packet-Boat, and the Maritime and Colonial Review, all papers devoted to insurance companies which threatened to raise their rates of premium, were unanimous on this point. Public opinion had been pronounced. The United States were the first in the field; and in New York they made preparations for an expedition destined to pursue this narwhal. A frigate of great speed, the Abraham Lincoln, was put in commission as soon as possible. The arsenals were opened to Commander Farragut, who hastened the arming of his frigate; but, as it always happens, the moment it was decided to pursue the monster, the monster did not appear. For two months no one heard it spoken of. No ship met with it. It seemed as if this unicorn knew of the plots weaving around it. It had been so much talked of, even through the Atlantic cable, that jesters pretended that this slender fly had stopped a telegram on its passage and was making the most of it.

The industrial and commercial papers mainly discussed the question from this point of view. The Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, Lloyd’s List, the Packet-Boat, and the Maritime and Colonial Review all agreed. These papers served insurance companies, which were threatening to raise their premiums. Public opinion had made itself clear. The United States was the first to act. In New York, preparations began for an expedition to pursue the narwhal. A very fast frigate, the Abraham Lincoln, was put into service as soon as possible. Commander Farragut was given access to the arsenals and hurried to arm his frigate. But, as always happens, the monster disappeared as soon as the decision was made to pursue it. For two months, no one heard any news of it. No ship encountered it. It seemed as if the unicorn knew about the plots against it. People had talked about it so much, even over the Atlantic cable, that jokers had an explanation. They pretended that the slender cable was a fly the monster had caught in transit and was making the most of.

So when the frigate had been armed for a long campaign, and provided with formidable fishing apparatus, no one could tell what course to pursue. Impatience grew apace, when, on the 2nd of July, they learned that a steamer of the line of San Francisco, from California to Shanghai, had seen the animal three weeks before in the North Pacific Ocean. The excitement caused by this news was extreme. The ship was revictualled and well stocked with coal.

So the frigate was armed for a long campaign and equipped with formidable fishing gear. But no one knew where to go. Impatience grew quickly. Then, on July 2, they learned that a steamship on the San Francisco line had seen the animal three weeks earlier. The ship had been traveling from California to Shanghai when it spotted the animal in the North Pacific Ocean. The news caused tremendous excitement. The frigate was restocked with food and plenty of coal.

Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left Brooklyn pier, I received a letter worded as follows:—

Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left Brooklyn pier, I received a letter that read: