I woke early. Moreau’s explanation stood before my mind, clear and
definite, from the moment of my awakening. I got out of the hammock and
went to the door to assure myself that the key was turned. Then I tried
the window-bar, and found it firmly fixed. That these man-like
creatures were in truth only bestial monsters, mere grotesque
travesties of men, filled me with a vague uncertainty of their
possibilities which was far worse than any definite fear.

A tapping came at the door, and I heard the glutinous accents of M’ling
speaking. I pocketed one of the revolvers (keeping one hand upon it),
and opened to him.

“Good-morning, sair,” he said, bringing in, in addition to the
customary herb-breakfast, an ill-cooked rabbit. Montgomery followed
him. His roving eye caught the position of my arm and he smiled askew.

The puma was resting to heal that day; but Moreau, who was singularly
solitary in his habits, did not join us. I talked with Montgomery to
clear my ideas of the way in which the Beast Folk lived. In particular,
I was urgent to know how these inhuman monsters were kept from falling
upon Moreau and Montgomery and from rending one another. He explained
to me that the comparative safety of Moreau and himself was due to the
limited mental scope of these monsters. In spite of their increased
intelligence and the tendency of their animal instincts to reawaken,
they had certain fixed ideas implanted by Moreau in their minds, which
absolutely bounded their imaginations. They were really hypnotised; had
been told that certain things were impossible, and that certain things
were not to be done, and these prohibitions were woven into the texture
of their minds beyond any possibility of disobedience or dispute.

Certain matters, however, in which old instinct was at war with
Moreau’s convenience, were in a less stable condition. A series of
propositions called the Law (I had already heard them recited) battled
in their minds with the deep-seated, ever-rebellious cravings of their
animal natures. This Law they were ever repeating, I found, and ever
breaking. Both Montgomery and Moreau displayed particular solicitude to
keep them ignorant of the taste of blood; they feared the inevitable
suggestions of that flavour. Montgomery told me that the Law,
especially among the feline Beast People, became oddly weakened about
nightfall; that then the animal was at its strongest; that a spirit of
adventure sprang up in them at the dusk, when they would dare things
they never seemed to dream about by day. To that I owed my stalking by
the Leopard-man, on the night of my arrival. But during these earlier
days of my stay they broke the Law only furtively and after dark; in
the daylight there was a general atmosphere of respect for its
multifarious prohibitions.

And here perhaps I may give a few general facts about the island and
the Beast People. The island, which was of irregular outline and lay
low upon the wide sea, had a total area, I suppose, of seven or eight
square miles.\footnote{This description corresponds in every respect to Noble’s Isle.—C.
E. P.} It was volcanic in origin, and was now fringed on
three sides by coral reefs; some fumaroles to the northward, and a hot
spring, were the only vestiges of the forces that had long since
originated it. Now and then a faint quiver of earthquake would be
sensible, and sometimes the ascent of the spire of smoke would be
rendered tumultuous by gusts of steam; but that was all. The population
of the island, Montgomery informed me, now numbered rather more than
sixty of these strange creations of Moreau’s art, not counting the
smaller monstrosities which lived in the undergrowth and were without
human form. Altogether he had made nearly a hundred and twenty; but
many had died, and others—like the writhing Footless Thing of which he
had told me—had come by violent ends. In answer to my question,
Montgomery said that they actually bore offspring, but that these
generally died. When they lived, Moreau took them and stamped the human
form upon them. There was no evidence of the inheritance of their
acquired human characteristics. The females were less numerous than the
males, and liable to much furtive persecution in spite of the monogamy
the Law enjoined.

 


It would be impossible for me to describe these Beast People in detail;
my eye has had no training in details, and unhappily I cannot sketch.
Most striking, perhaps, in their general appearance was the
disproportion between the legs of these creatures and the length of
their bodies; and yet—so relative is our idea of grace—my eye became
habituated to their forms, and at last I even fell in with their
persuasion that my own long thighs were ungainly. Another point was the
forward carriage of the head and the clumsy and inhuman curvature of
the spine. Even the Ape-man lacked that inward sinuous curve of the
back which makes the human figure so graceful. Most had their shoulders
hunched clumsily, and their short forearms hung weakly at their sides.
Few of them were conspicuously hairy, at least until the end of my time
upon the island.

The next most obvious deformity was in their faces, almost all of which
were prognathous, malformed about the ears, with large and protuberant
noses, very furry or very bristly hair, and often strangely-coloured or
strangely-placed eyes. None could laugh, though the Ape-man had a
chattering titter. Beyond these general characters their heads had
little in common; each preserved the quality of its particular species:
the human mark distorted but did not hide the leopard, the ox, or the
sow, or other animal or animals, from which the creature had been
moulded. The voices, too, varied exceedingly. The hands were always
malformed; and though some surprised me by their unexpected human
appearance, almost all were deficient in the number of the digits,
clumsy about the finger-nails, and lacking any tactile sensibility.

The two most formidable Animal Men were my Leopard-man and a creature
made of hyena and swine. Larger than these were the three
bull-creatures who pulled in the boat. Then came the silvery-hairy-man,
who was also the Sayer of the Law, M’ling, and a satyr-like creature of
ape and goat. There were three Swine-men and a Swine-woman, a
mare-rhinoceros-creature, and several other females whose sources I did
not ascertain. There were several wolf-creatures, a bear-bull, and a
Saint-Bernard-man. I have already described the Ape-man, and there was
a particularly hateful (and evil-smelling) old woman made of vixen and
bear, whom I hated from the beginning. She was said to be a passionate
votary of the Law. Smaller creatures were certain dappled youths and my
little sloth-creature. But enough of this catalogue.

At first I had a shivering horror of the brutes, felt all too keenly
that they were still brutes; but insensibly I became a little
habituated to the idea of them, and moreover I was affected by
Montgomery’s attitude towards them. He had been with them so long that
he had come to regard them as almost normal human beings. His London
days seemed a glorious, impossible past to him. Only once in a year or
so did he go to Africa to deal with Moreau’s agent, a trader in animals
there. He hardly met the finest type of mankind in that seafaring
village of Spanish mongrels. The men aboard-ship, he told me, seemed at
first just as strange to him as the Beast Men seemed to me,—unnaturally
long in the leg, flat in the face, prominent in the forehead,
suspicious, dangerous, and cold-hearted. In fact, he did not like men:
his heart had warmed to me, he thought, because he had saved my life. I
fancied even then that he had a sneaking kindness for some of these
metamorphosed brutes, a vicious sympathy with some of their ways, but
that he attempted to veil it from me at first.

M’ling, the black-faced man, Montgomery’s attendant, the first of the
Beast Folk I had encountered, did not live with the others across the
island, but in a small kennel at the back of the enclosure. The
creature was scarcely so intelligent as the Ape-man, but far more
docile, and the most human-looking of all the Beast Folk; and
Montgomery had trained it to prepare food, and indeed to discharge all
the trivial domestic offices that were required. It was a complex
trophy of Moreau’s horrible skill,—a bear, tainted with dog and ox, and
one of the most elaborately made of all his creatures. It treated
Montgomery with a strange tenderness and devotion. Sometimes he would
notice it, pat it, call it half-mocking, half-jocular names, and so
make it caper with extraordinary delight; sometimes he would ill-treat
it, especially after he had been at the whiskey, kicking it, beating
it, pelting it with stones or lighted fusees. But whether he treated it
well or ill, it loved nothing so much as to be near him.

I say I became habituated to the Beast People, that a thousand things
which had seemed unnatural and repulsive speedily became natural and
ordinary to me. I suppose everything in existence takes its colour from
the average hue of our surroundings. Montgomery and Moreau were too
peculiar and individual to keep my general impressions of humanity well
defined. I would see one of the clumsy bovine-creatures who worked the
launch treading heavily through the undergrowth, and find myself
asking, trying hard to recall, how he differed from some really human
yokel trudging home from his mechanical labours; or I would meet the
Fox-bear woman’s vulpine, shifty face, strangely human in its
speculative cunning, and even imagine I had met it before in some city
byway.

Yet every now and then the beast would flash out upon me beyond doubt
or denial. An ugly-looking man, a hunch-backed human savage to all
appearance, squatting in the aperture of one of the dens, would stretch
his arms and yawn, showing with startling suddenness scissor-edged
incisors and sabre-like canines, keen and brilliant as knives. Or in
some narrow pathway, glancing with a transitory daring into the eyes of
some lithe, white-swathed female figure, I would suddenly see (with a
spasmodic revulsion) that she had slit-like pupils, or glancing down
note the curving nail with which she held her shapeless wrap about her.
It is a curious thing, by the bye, for which I am quite unable to
account, that these weird creatures—the females, I mean—had in the
earlier days of my stay an instinctive sense of their own repulsive
clumsiness, and displayed in consequence a more than human regard for
the decency and decorum of extensive costume.
