A about the end of the thirty-seventh month of our voyage due south from
Ug we sighted land, and although the coast appeared wild and inhospitable,
the captain decided to send a boat ashore in search of fresh water and
provisions, of which we were in sore need. I was of the boat's crew and
thought myself fortunate in being able to set foot again upon the earth.
There were seven others in the landing party, including the mate, who
commanded.
Selecting a sheltered cove, which appeared to be at the mouth of a small
creek, we beached the boat, and leaving two men to guard it started inland
toward a grove of trees. Before we reached it an animal came out of it and
advanced confidently toward us, showing no signs of either fear or
hostility. It was a hideous creature, not altogether like anything that we
had ever seen, but on its close approach we recognized it as a dog, of an
unimaginably loathsome breed. As we were nearly famished one of the
sailors shot it for food. Instantly a great crowd of persons, who had
doubtless been watching us from among the trees, rushed upon us with
fierce exclamations and surrounded us, making the most threatening
gestures and brandishing unfamiliar weapons. Unable to resist such odds we
were seized, bound with cords and dragged into the forest almost before we
knew what had happened to us. Observing the nature of our reception the
ship's crew hastily weighed anchor and sailed away. We never again saw
them.
Beyond the trees concealing it from the sea was a great city, and thither
we were taken. It was Gumammam, the capital of Ganegwag, whose people are
dog-worshipers. The fate of my companions I never learned, for although I
remained in the country for seven years, much of the time as a prisoner,
and learned to speak its language, no answer was ever given to my many
inquiries about my unfortunate friends.
The Ganegwagians are an ancient race with a history covering a period of
ten thousand _supintroes_. In stature they are large, in color blue, with
crimson hair and yellow eyes. They live to a great age, sometimes as much
as twenty _supintroes_, their climate being so wholesome that even the
aged have to sail to a distant island in order to die. Whenever a
sufficient number of them reach what they call "the age of going away"
they embark on a government ship and in the midst of impressive public
rites and ceremonies set sail for "the Isle of the Happy Change." Of their
strange civilization, their laws, manners and customs, their copper
clothing and liquid houses I have written--at perhaps too great length--in
my famous book, "Ganegwag the Incredible." Here I shall confine myself to
their religion, certainly the most amazing form of superstition in the
world.
Nowhere, it is believed, but in Ganegwag has so vile a creature as the dog
obtained general recognition as a deity. There this filthy beast is
considered so divine that it is freely admitted to the domestic circle and
cherished as an honored guest. Scarcely a family that is able to support a
dog is without one, and some have as many as a half-dozen. Indeed, the dog
is the special deity of the poor, those families having most that are
least able to maintain them. In some sections of the country, particularly
the southern and southwestern provinces, the number of dogs is estimated
to be greater than that of the children, as is the cost of their
maintenance. In families of the rich they are fewer in number, but more
sacredly cherished, especially by the female members, who lavish upon them
a wealth of affection not always granted to the husband and children, and
distinguish them with indescribable attentions and endearments.
Nowhere is the dog compelled to make any other return for all this honor
and benefaction than a fawning and sycophantic demeanor toward those who
bestow them and an insulting and injurious attitude toward strangers who
have dogs of their own, and toward other dogs. In any considerable town of
the realm not a day passes but the public newsman relates in the most
matter-of-fact and unsympathetic way to his circle of listless auditors
painful instances of human beings, mostly women and children, bitten and
mangled by these ferocious animals without provocation.
In addition to these ravages of the dog in his normal state are a vastly
greater number of outrages committed by the sacred animal in the fury of
insanity, for he has an hereditary tendency to madness, and in that state
his bite is incurable, the victim awaiting in the most horrible agony the
sailing of the next ship to the Isle of the Happy Change, his suffering
imperfectly medicined by expressions of public sympathy for the dog.
A cynical citizen of Gumammam said to the writer of this narrative: "My
countrymen have three hundred kinds of dogs, and only one way to hang a
thief." Yet all the dogs are alike in this, that none is respectable.
Withal, it must be said of this extraordinary people that their horrible
religion is free from the hollow forms and meaningless ceremonies in which
so many superstitions of the lower races find expression. It is a religion
of love, practical, undemonstrative, knowing nothing of pageantry and
spectacle. It is hidden in the lives and hearts of the people; a stranger
would hardly know of its existence as a distinct faith. Indeed, other
faiths and better ones (one of them having some resemblance to a debased
form of Christianity) co-exist with it, sometimes in the same mind.
Cynolatry is tolerant so long as the dog is not denied an equal divinity
with the deities of other faiths. Nevertheless, I could not think of the
people of Ganegwag without contempt and loathing; so it was with no small
joy that I sailed for the contiguous island of Ghargaroo to consult,
according to my custom, the renowned statesman and philosopher,
Juptka-Getch, who was accounted the wisest man in all the world, and held
in so high esteem that no one dared speak to him without the sovereign's
permission, countersigned by the Minister of Morals and Manners.