A Voyage to Cacklogallinia Part 1

A Voyage to Cacklogallinia.

by Captain Samuel Brunt, et al.

INTRODUCTION

_A Voyage to Cacklogallinia_ appeared in London, in 1727, from the pen of a pseudonymous "Captain Samuel Brunt." Posterity has continued to preserve the anonymity of the author, perhaps more jealously than he would have wished. Whatever his real parentage, he must for the present be referred only to the literary family of which his progenitor "Captain Lemuel Gulliver" is the most distinguished member. Like so many other works of that period, _A Voyage to Cacklogallinia_ has sometimes been attributed to Swift; its similarities to the fourth book of _Gulliver's Travels_ are unmistakable. Again, the work has sometimes been attributed to Defoe. There is, however, no good reason to believe that either Defoe or Swift was concerned in its authors.h.i.+p, except in so far as both gave impetus to lesser writers in this form of composition.

Fortunately the authors.h.i.+p of the work is of little importance. It lives, not because of anything remarkable in the style or anything original in its author's point of view, but because of its satiric reflection of the background of its age. It is republished both because of its historical value and because of its peculiarly contemporary appeal today. Its satire needs no learned paraphernalia of footnotes; it can be readily understood and appreciated by readers in an age dominated on the one hand by economics and on the other, by science. Its satire-- not too subtle--is as pertinent in our own period as it was two hundred years ago. Its irony is concerned with stock exchanges and feverish speculation. It is a tale of incredible inflation and abrupt and devastating depression. Its "voyage to the moon" has not lost its appeal to men and women who can still remember a period when human flights seemed incredible and who have lived to see "flying chariots"

spanning oceans and continents and ascending into the stratosphere.

The first and most obvious interest of the tale is in its reflection of economic conditions in the early eighteenth century. The period following the Revolution of 1688 saw tremendous changes in att.i.tudes toward credit and speculation. A new and powerful economic instrument was put into the hands of men who had not yet discovered its dangers.

With the natural confusion which ensued between "credit" and "wealth,"

with a new emphasis upon the possible values inherent in "expectations of wealth" rather than immediate control over money, an unheard-of speculative emphasis appeared in business. The rapid increase in new trades and new industrial systems afforded possibilities of immediate rise to affluence. The outside public engaged in speculation to a degree not before known. Exaggerated gains, violent fluctuations in prices, meteoric rises and collapses--these gave rein to a gambling spirit perennial in man. The word "Projects" enters into literature as a recurrent motif, strangely familiar to our present generation, which needs only to turn Defoe's _Essay on Projects_ into contemporary language to see the similarities between the year 1697 and the year 1939. That essay is filled with talk of "new Inventions, Engines, and I know not what, which have rais'd the Fancies of Credulous People to such height, that merely on the shadow of Expectation, they have form'd Companies, chose Committees, appointed Officers, Shares, and Books, rais'd great Stocks, and cri'd up an empty Notion to that degree that People have been betray'd to part with their Money for Shares in a New-Nothing."

Of the many speculative schemes of the early eighteenth century, none is better known than the "South Sea Bubble." After a long period during which English trade with the Spanish West Indies was carried on by subterfuge, an Act of Parliament in 1710 incorporated into a joint-stock company the state creditors, upon the basis of their loan of ten million pounds to the Government and conferred upon them the monopoly of the English trade with the Indies. In spite of these advantages, however, the South Sea Company found itself so hampered and limited in credit that it offered to convert the national debt into a "single redeemable obligation" to the company in return for a monopoly of British foreign trade outside England. The immediate and spectacular effect of that offer is reflected in the many descriptions, both serious and satiric, of an era of speculation which to many generations might seem incredible--though not to this generation which has itself lived through an orgy of speculation.

Clearly the South Sea Bubble, which reached its climax in 1720, was the chief source of Captain Samuel Brunt's satire, which has an important place in the minor literature called forth by the wild speculation connected with the Bubble.[1] If the "Projects" proposed to Captain Brunt[2] seem extreme to any modern reader, let him turn to the list of "bubbles," still accessible in many places.[3] Nothing in Brunt is so fantastic as many of the actual schemes suggested and acted upon in the eighteenth century. The possibility of extracting gold from the mountains of the moon is no more fanciful than several of the proposals seriously received by Englishmen under the spell of speculation. As in the kingdom of Cacklogallinia, so in London, men mortgaged their homes and women sold their jewels [4] in order to purchase shares in wildcat companies, born one day, only to die the next. As the anonymous author of one of many South Sea Ballads wrote in his "Merry Remarks upon Exchange Alley Bubbles":

Our greatest ladies. .h.i.ther come, And ply in chariots daily; Oft p.a.w.n their jewels for a sum To venture in the Alley.

The meteoric rise in the price of shares in the moon-mountain project of the Cacklogallinians is no greater than the actual rise in prices of shares during the South Sea Bubble, when, between April and July, 1720, shares rose from 120 to 1,020. The fluctuating market of the Cacklogallinian 'Change, which responded to every rumor, follows faithfully the actual situation in London in 1720; and the final crash which shook Cacklogallinian foundations--subtly suggested by Brunt's unwillingness to return and face the enraged mult.i.tude--is an echo of the crash which shook England when the Bubble was p.r.i.c.ked.

But its reflection of the economic background of the age is not the only reason for the interest and importance of _A Voyage to Cacklogallinia_, either in its generation or in our own. The little tale has its place in the history of science, particularly in that movement of science which, beginning with the "new astronomy" in the early seventeenth century, was to produce one of the most important chapters in the history of aviation.[5] So far as literature is concerned, _A Voyage to Cacklogallinia_ belongs to the literary _genre_ of "voyages to the moon"

which from Lucian to H.G. Wells (even to modern "pulp magazines") have enthralled human imagination. Yet while its fantasy looks back to Lucian's Icaro-Menippus, who flew to the moon by using the wing of a vulture and the wing of an eagle, its suggestion of the growing scientific temper of modern times makes it much more than mere fantasy.

In the semilegendary history of Iran is to be found a tale, retold by Firdausi in the _Shaknameh_, of Kavi Usan, who "essayed the sky To outsoar angels" by fastening four eagles to his throne. The Iranian motif was adopted in the romances of Alexander the Great and so pa.s.sed into European literature. The researches of Leonardo da Vinci upon the muscles of birds and the principles of the flight of birds brought over to the realm of science ideas long familiar in tale and legend. Francis Bacon did not hesitate to suggest in his _Natural History_ (Experiment 886) that there are possibilities of human flight by the use of birds and "advises others to think further upon this experiment as giving some light to the invention of the art of flying."

John Wilkins, one of the most influential early members of the Royal Society, in his _Mathematicall Magick_,[6] in 1648, suggested "four several ways whereby this flying in the air hath been or may be attempted." He listed, as the second, "By the help of fowls." Ten years earlier there appeared in England during the same year two works which were to have great influence in popularizing the theme of light: Wilkins's _Discovery of a World in the Moone_,[7] a serious semiscientific work on the nature of the moon and the possibility of man's flying thither, and a prose romance by Francis G.o.dwin, _The Man in the Moone: or, A Discourse of a Voyage thither by D. Gonsales._[8] These two works were largely responsible for the emergence of the old theme of flight to the moon in imaginative literature; the English translation of Lucian at almost the same time perhaps aided in advancing the popularity of the idea.

The similarities between Brunt's romance and G.o.dwin's tale a century earlier are too striking to be fortuitous, and, indeed, there is no question that Brunt used G.o.dwin as one of his chief sources. An earlier _Robinson Crusoe_, an idyllic _Gulliver's Travels_, G.o.dwin's _The Man in the Moone_ helped to establish in English literature the vogue of the traveler's tale to strange countries. Domingo, like Captain Samuel Brunt, draws from the "exotic" tradition. Both travelers find themselves in strange lands; both experience many other adventures before they make their way to the moon, drawn by birds.

But the century which elapsed between G.o.dwin's fanciful tale and Brunt's fantastic romance felt the impact of the new science. No matter how clearly both tales draw from old traditions of legend and literature, no matter how many elements of fantasy remain, there is a profound and fundamental difference between them. G.o.dwin's hero made his way to the moon by mere chance; it happened that he harnessed himself to his gansas during their period of hibernation. Too late, he discovered that gansas hibernate in the moon! The earlier voyage took only "Eleven or Twelve daies"--and that by gansa power! The earlier author did not suggest that his hero encountered any particular difficulties of respiration, nor did he pause to consider in detail the problem of the nature of the intervening air through which his hero pa.s.sed.

But a hundred years of science had intervened between G.o.dwin's tale and that of Captain Samuel Brunt. The later voyage to the moon is no less fantastic in its outlines than is the earlier, yet it shows clearly the impact of science upon popular imagination. The imagination of man had expanded with the expanding universe. Brunt takes care to indicate the vast distance between the earth and the moon by subtle mathematical suggestion. Although both travelers flew "with incredible swiftness,"

the eighteenth-century flyers found that it was "about a Month before we came into the Attraction of the Moon." Brunt's account of the preparation for the ascent into the orb of the moon is almost as careful as a modern account of an ascent into the stratosphere. His bird flyers lay their plans deliberately and upon the basis of the most recent scientific discoveries. There is nothing fortuitous about their final ascent. Brunt was clearly aware of the work of many scientists, notably Boyle, upon the nature and rarefaction of the air. His flyers proceed by slow stages, accustoming themselves gradually to the rarefied air, a.s.sisting their respiration by the use of wet sponges. They learn by experience the answer to the problems with which G.o.dwin's mind had played but which many later scientific writers had considered more definitely: what is the nature of gravity; how far beyond the confines of the earth does it extend; what would happen to man could he "pa.s.s the Atmosphere"? The generation to which Captain Samuel Brunt belonged might still delight in the fantastic; but like our own generation, it insisted that fantasy must rest upon that which is at least scientifically possible, if not probable.

_A Voyage to Cacklogallinia_ is republished today because of its appeal to many readers. It offers something to the student of economic history; something to the student of early science. It is one of several little-known "voyages to the moon," of which the most famous are those of Cyrano de Bergerac, a form of reading in which our ancestors delighted and which deserve to be collected. But apart from having a not-inconsiderable historical interest, it remains the kind of tale which may be read at any time because it appeals to the fundamental love of adventure in human beings. Its author was undoubtedly only one of many men who, under the influence of G.o.dwin, Swift, and others, could weave a tale in an accepted pattern. Yet there are elements which make it unique; and it deserves at least this opportunity of rising phoenix-like from the ashes of the past and being treasured by posterity.

MARJORIE NICOLSON Smith College Northampton, Ma.s.s.

Nov. 3, 1939

A VOYAGE TO CACKLOGALLINIA:

Nothing is more common than a Traveller's beginning the Account of his Voyages with one of his own Family; in which, if he can't boast Antiquity, he is sure to make it up with the Probity of his Ancestors.

As it can no way interest my Reader, I shall decline following a Method, which I can't but think ridiculous, as unnecessary. I shall only say, that by the Death of my Father and Mother, which happen'd while I was an Infant, I fell to the Care of my Grandfather by my Mother, who was a Citizen of some Note in _Bristol_, and at the Age of Thirteen sent me to Sea Prentice to a Master of a Merchant-man.

My two first Voyages were to _Jamaica_, in which nothing remarkable happen'd. Our third Voyage was to _Guinea_ and _Jamaica_; we slaved, and arrived happily at that Island; but it being Time of War, and our Men fearing they should be press'd (for we were mann'd a-peak) Twelve, and myself, went on Sh.o.r.e a little to the Eastward of _Port Morante_, designing to foot it to _Port Royal_. We had taken no Arms, suspecting no Danger; but I soon found we wanted Precaution: For we were, in less than an Hour after our Landing, encompa.s.s'd by about Forty Run-away Negroes, well arm'd, who, without a Word speaking, pour'd in upon us a Volley of Shot, which laid Eight of our Company dead, and wounded the rest. I was shot thro' the right Arm.

After this Discharge, they ran upon us with their Axes, and (tho' we cried for Mercy) cruelly butcher'd my remaining four Companions.

I had shared their Fate, had not he who seemed to Head the Party, interposed between me and the fatal Axe already lifted for my Destruction. He seized the designed Executioner by the Arm, and said, _No kill te Boy, me scavez him; me no have him make deady_. I knew not to what I should attribute this Humanity, and was not less surprized than pleas'd at my Escape.

They struck off the Heads of my Companions, which they carried with 'em to the Mountains, putting me in the Center of the Company.

I march'd very pensively, lamenting the Murder of my s.h.i.+p-mates, and often wish'd the Negro who saved me had been less charitable; for I began to doubt I was reserved for future Tortures, and to be made a Spectacle to their Wives and Children; when my Protector coming up to me, said, _No be sadd_, Sam, _you no scavez me?_ I look'd earnestly at the Fellow, and remember'd he was a Slave of a Planter's, a distant Relation of mine, who had been a long while settled in the Island: He had twice before run from his Master, and while I was at the Plantation my first Voyage, he was brought in, and his Feet ordered to be cut off to the Instep (a common Punishment inflicted on run-away Slaves) by my Intercession this was remitted, and he escaped with a Whipping.

I ask'd if his Name was not _Cuffey_, Mr. _Tenant_'s Negro?

"My Name _Cuffey_, said he, me no _*Baccararo_ Negro now; me Freeman.

[*_Baccararo_, the Name Negroes give the Whites.] You no let cutty my Foot, so me no let cutty your Head; no be sadd, you have _b.u.mby grande *yam yam_. [*_Yam yam_, in Negroes Dialect, signifies victuals.]"

He endeavoured to comfort me under my Afflictions in this barbarous Dialect; but I was so possess'd with the Notion of my being reserv'd to be murdered, that I received but little Consolation.

We marched very slowly, both on account of the Heat, and of the Plunder they had got from some Plantations; for every one had his Load of Kidds, Turkies, and other Provisions.

About Three in the Afternoon, we reach'd a Village of run-away Negroes, and we were received by the Inhabitants with all possible Demonstrations of Joy. The Women sung, danc'd, and clapp'd their Hands, and the Men brought _Mobby_ (a sort of Drink) and Rum, to welcome the return'd Party. One of the Negro Men ask'd _Cuffey_, why he did not bring my Head, instead of bringing me alive? He gave his Reason, at which he seem'd satisfied, but said it was dangerous to let a _Baccararo_ know their Retreat; that he would tell Captain _Thomas_, and he must expect his Orders concerning me.

_Cuffey_ said he would go to give Captain _Thomas_ an Account of what had happen'd in this _Sortie_, and would carry me with him. As they spoke in the Negroes _English_, I understood them perfectly well. My Friend then went to Captain _Thomas_, who was the Chief of all the run-away Blacks, and took me with him. This Chief of theirs was about Seventy Five Years old, a hale, strong, well-proportion'd Man, about Six Foot Three Inches high; the Wooll of his Head and his Beard were white with Age, he sat upon a little Platform rais'd about a Foot from the Ground, accompanied by Eight or Ten near his own Age, smoaking Segars, which are Tobacco Leaves roll'd up hollow.

_Cuffey_, at his Entrance, threw himself on his Face, and clapp'd his Hands over his Head; then rising, he, with a visible Awe in his Countenance, drew nearer, and address'd the Captain in the _Cholomantaean_ Language, in which he gave an Account, as I suppose, of his Expedition; for when he had done speaking, my Comrades Heads were brought in, and thrown at the Captain's Feet, who returned but a short Answer to _Cuffey_, tho' he presented him with a Segar, made him sit down, and drank to him in a Calabash of Rum.

After this Ceremony, Captain _Thomas_ address'd himself to me in perfect good _English_.

Young Man, _said he,_ I would have you banish all Fear; you are not fallen into the Hands of barbarous Christians, whose Practice and Profession are as distant as the Country they came from, is from this Island, which they have usurp'd from the original Natives.

Capt. _Cuffey_'s returning the Service you once did him, by saving your Life, which we shall not, after the Example of your Country, take in cold Blood, may give you a Specimen of our Morals. We believe in, and fear a G.o.d, and whatever you may conclude from the Slaughter of your Companions, yet we are far from thirsting after the Blood of the Whites; and it's Necessity alone which obliges us to what bears the face of Cruelty. Nothing is so dear to Man as Liberty, and we have no way of avoiding Slavery, of which our Bodies wear the inhuman Marks, but by a War, in which, if we give no Quarter, the _English_ must blame themselves; since even, with a shew of Justice, they put to the most cruel Deaths those among us, who have the Misfortune to fall into their Hands; and make that a Crime in us (the Desire of Liberty, I mean) which they look upon as the distinguis.h.i.+ng Mark of a great Soul. Your Wound shall be dress'd; you shall want nothing necessary we have; and we will see you safe to some Plantation the first Opportunity. All the Return we expect, is, that you will not discover to the Whites our Place of Retreat: I don't exact from you an Oath to keep the Secret; for who will violate his Word, will not be bound down, by calling G.o.d for a Witness. If you betray us, he will punish you; and the Fear of your being a Villain shall not engage me to put it out of your Power to hurt us, by taking the Life of one to whom any of us has promised Security. Go and repose your self, Captain _Cuffey_ will shew you his House.

I made an Answer full of Acknowledgments, and _Cuffey_ carried me home, where my Hurt, which was a Flesh Wound, was dress'd: He saw me laid on a Matra.s.s, and left me. About Eight, a Negro Wench brought me some Kid very well drest, and leaving me, bid me good Night. Notwithstanding my Hurt, I slept tolerably well, being heartily fatigued with the Day's Walk.

Next Morning, _Cuffey_ saw my Wound drest by a Negro sent for from another Village, who had been Slave to a Surgeon several Years, and was very expert in his Business. The Village where I was contained about Two and Fifty Houses, made of wild Canes and Cabbage Trees; it was the Residence of Captain _Thomas_. Here were all sorts of Handicrafts, as, Joyners, Smiths, Gunsmiths, Taylors, _&c._ for in _Jamaica_ the Whites teach their Slaves the Arts they severally exercise. The Houses were furnished with all Necessaries, which they had plundered from the Plantations; and they had great Quant.i.ties of Corn and Dunghill Fowl.

Captain _Thomas_ sometimes sent for me, and endeavour'd, by his Kindness, to make my Stay among 'em as little irksome as possible. He often entertain'd me with the Cruelty of the _English_ to their Slaves, and the Injustice of depriving Men of that Liberty they were born to.

In about a Fortnight, my Wound was thoroughly cured, and I begg'd of Captain _Thomas_ to let me be directed to the next Plantation. He promis'd I shou'd, as, soon as he could do it with Safety. I waited with Patience, for I did not think it just he should, for my sake, hazard his own, and the Lives of his Followers.

About a Week after this Promise, I reminded him of it, and he told me, that a Party from a Neighbour Village being out, he could not send me away: For shou'd those Men miscarry, he might be suspected of having, by my Means, betray'd 'em to make his own Peace with the Whites; for (said he) the Treachery our People have observed among those of your Colour, has made 'em extreamly suspicious. I was obliged to seem contented with his Reason, and waited the Return of this Party, which in about ten Days after, came back, laden with Provisions, Kitchen Furniture and Bedding; but the most acceptable part of their Booty, was Two small Caggs of Powder, of Eight Pound Weight each, and near Two Hundred of Lead. They also brought with 'em the Heads of the Overseer, and the Distiller belonging to _Littleton_'s Plantation, both white Men, whom they met separately in the Woods.

Captain _Thomas_ now promis'd me, that the next Day I should be guided to _Plantane-Garden-River-Plantation_, which was no small Satisfaction to me. I left the Captain at Eleven o' Clock who gave Orders for the entertaining the Party, and the spending the Day in Merriment. About Three, when they were in the midst of their Jollity, one of the Scouts brought Word, that he had discovered a Party of white Men, who were coming up the Mountain. The Captain immediately ordered all the Women and Children to a more remote Village, and sent for the ablest Men from thence, while he prepared to give the Enemy a warm Reception. Every Man took a Fusil, a Pistol, and an Axe: Ambuscades were laid in all the Avenues to the Village; he exhorted his Men to behave themselves bravely, there being no way to save their Lives, but by exposing them for the common Safety. He told 'em, they had many Advantages; for the Whites did not so well, as they, know all the Pa.s.sages to the Mountain; and that they could not, at most, march in the widest, above Two a-breast; that the Way was rugged, troublesome to climb, and expos'd them to their Fire, while they lay hid in their Ambuscades he had appointed 'em.

But (said he) were we to meet 'em upon even Terms, yet our Circ.u.mstances ought to inspire Resolution in the most fearful: For, were any among us of so poor a Spirit, to prefer Slavery to Death, Experience shews us, all Hopes of Life, even on such vile Terms, are entirely vain. It is then certainly more eligible to die bravely in Defence of our Liberty, than to end our Lives in lingring and exquisite Torments by the Hands of an Executioner. For my Part, I am resolved never to fall alive into the Hands of the Whites, and I think every one in the same Circ.u.mstances ought to take the same Resolution.

After this Exhortation, and the Departure of those laid in Ambush, he order'd me to go with the Women, Children, and _Cuffey_, whom he had sent to head the Men he had commanded from the other Village. I had not been gone a Quarter of an Hour, in which time I was hardly got Half a Mile, before I heard a very warm Firing. We went still higher up the Mountain, thro' a very difficult Pa.s.sage; the Village we were order'd to, was about half a League from that we left, than which it was much larger, and more populous; for here were at least One Hundred and Twenty Houses, and as many able Men, with about four times the Number of Women and Children.

The Alarm had been given them by an Express from Captain _Thomas_, and we met about half way, near Fifty Negroes arm'd in the manner already mentioned. They were headed by an old Woman, whom they look'd upon a Prophetess. _Cuffey_ recommended me to her Protection, took upon him the Command of the Men, and return'd, after asking this Beldame's Blessing, which she gave him with a.s.surance of repelling the Whites.

The Fire all this while was very brisk, and the old Woman said to me, that she saw those in Ambush run away from the Whites, tho' she lay with her Face on the Ground. _No matter_, continued she, _let the Cowards perish, the Whites will burn _Cormaco (the Village I came from)_ that's all. They come again another Day, then poor Negroes all lost._