The Man-Machine, I

June 28th, 2007 at 6:54 am (Sovereigns, Turning Points, Uncategorized)

“February 5th was DOGS’ DOOMSDAY, or general dog killing; when all citizens of the canine brood were to be shot. Many were those that fell on that day.— But from whatever cause it was that they bore a peculiar fondness for this place, as we killed off the old, new ones seemed to come in, out of the country; so that we could scarce get rid of the society of this species.” Paul Brown, Twelve Months in New Harmony

The dogs kept coming, as did the colonists, none caring, apparently, that New Harmony was itself in the grip of a killing distemper. On the third day of the dog-slaughter, we struggled from bed more or less with the sun. Not a one of us hurried, bone-weary and quarter-crazed as we were–until we smelled the coffee. “Coffee! There’s coffee!” There had been no coffee anywhere since sometime early in the day before, even, some claimed, at the tables of No. 5. There was never much outside the big house and the tavern. But coffee had been promised. “Coffee in the morning” was the word, but we had all of us had at least our fill of such. This time, though, Old Bob spoke true, and big pots of the stuff boiled at the edge of the bonfires. The wind, which had blown the smell of the pyre into our Republican encampment all night, blew that welcome, quickening aroma at our ragged phalanx.

Scalding hot, bitter and cut with grain, cooked up on a charnel fire, we gulped it heedlessly as we cleaned weapons, sharpened scythes. Old Bob himself came down to general this last stage of the campaign, risking tongue and taste buds with the rest as he quizzed the ranks and laid his plans. Officers of all quarters and communities made their reports, and the old man gave out his orders with a fine disregard for which of his troops were, or were not, members of the association, which were, under other circumstances, allies or antagonists. Brown he bossed like the rist, and like the rest our de facto chief accepted command resignedly. Some clutch of strays remained in our quarter, and then there was the feral pack to be dealt with. Despite the work of the past two day, this latter seemed to be growing. The Germans in their log cabins, kept up all night by their baying, now claimed that it was a wolf that led the pack. Owen nodded at this intelligence and, paused, warming his hands at the fire and then his face with his hands. “We save the guns, then. For now, it’s scythes and spades. You know your chores. To it!” And tossing back the dregs of his coffee, he turned as if to start immediately back to No. 5.

It was then that the mongrel half-crawled from the tall grass, wounded and whimpering. The little black cur had been one of the tavern dogs, living on scraps and kindness, not so different, it now seems to me, from many of us who lived at the margins of New Harmony and the proprietors’ pleasure.

It was not a sight to put our work, that ahead or that accomplished, in any too kind a light. We had seemed for a moment–coffee in hand and an end apparently in sight–more fully a community that an any time that I could remember. But it was an exhausted, savage community, caught in a moment of rest–savage in all the ways that Brown had spoken of in his Gray Light. Forgetful, cruel to animals, unfeeling, united around our chief. “Well,” said Old Bob, “I guess I must ‘to it.’”

The bare facts of the next moments are these:

A gun was raised.
Someone cried, “No!”
A boy began to sob.

Robert Owen, inspiration and primary proprietor of the community of New Harmony, turned, took two long strides, grasped a newly sharpened axe.

Paul Brown, communist and philosopher, the usual intensity of his gaze now deepened into something baleful, tightened his grip on a scythe-handle.

And each of the rest of us, awakening, or so it seemed to me, to some new, unfolding state of affairs, stirred and shifted, picked up, or put down, tools, or weapons.

Something stirred. The cur whimpered. The boy moved.

In the distance, a howl–wolf? dog?–from the direction of the German encampment.

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A Vision of Sorts

November 27th, 2006 at 7:21 am (Sovereigns, Turning Points, Uncategorized)

 

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Document: Notice on Hydrophobia or Canine Madness

November 26th, 2006 at 6:43 pm (Documents, Sovereigns, Turning Points)

[from the New Harmony Gazette, August 9, 1826, some months before the “Dogs’ Doomsday” of February 5, 1827.]

1. Hydrophobia is an acute disease, characterised by fits of anger, a propensity to bite, often accompanied by a great aversion for water or drink, and sometimes by convulsions at the sight of bright or brilliant bodies.

2. This disease attacks some animals spontaneously. Man and many other beings contract it only from the bite of an animal already affected, from the contact or introduction of its saliva in a wound, or on a part covered with a very thick skin. |

3. The Dog, the Wolf, and the Fox, are the most subject to this dreadful disorder, which attacks them principally in the summer, and in the winter at the time of sexual intercourse.

4. When a dog has contracted Hydrophobia he is at first cast down, stupid, he lies squat in a corner, and often growls without any apparent cause, chiefly against strangers, whom he endeavors to bite; most commonly he refuses food and drink, or takes it in very small quantities: after he has remained two or three days in this state, the symptoms increase, the animal leaves suddenly the house of his master, and wanders on all sides, but his gait is ill directed and uncertain; his hair is in great disorder, his ayes are wild, fixed and brilliant, he holds his head low, his mouth open, and full of a froths saliva, his tongue hangs out of his mouth, and he keeps his tail drawn between his legs. He then experiences fits of irritation returning at intervals, he throws himself upon the animals which he meets, bites them, and proceeds on: at this period of the disease the animal commonly takes no food and shuns drink. Sometimes, however, dogs have been seen in that state eating, drinking, and even crossing rivers: so that it is only from the union, the concurrence of all these signs, that one can ascertain the nature of the disease, and in general one ought to mistrust any bite made by an animal that has not been provoked.

5. It is, therefore, the duty of every good citizen to watch attentively the state of the animals which are in his house, and from the very first symptoms of disease in a dog, for the safety of his own family, for the public tranquility, he must either kill him immediately, or shut him up in a yard, or in a separate room, whence he cannot escape.

6. When a Wolf is mad he leaves the forests, and wanders m the fields, throws himself with fury upon all the animals which he meets, he even attacks men, and is neither afraid of their number, nor of noise and arms.

7. If a Wolf is wandering, or if a sick Dog has left the house of his master, the police of the place ought to give the charge to some; courageous and prudent men to pursue the animal until they shall have met him: those who are trusted with this care must he armed with a sword and a gun, and remain together, avoiding to be separated.

8. When a man has been bitten by a rabid animal, the first care is to wash the wound on the spot, to press it in different directions to squeeze out the blood, and extract the saliva which the tooth of the animal has introduced. One can for that purpose, either make use of the water of a spring, or of a creek which may be at hand, but the following lotion is much more effectual, viz: warm water with soap, or salt dissolved in it. Lime water and lye are very useful, and heated urine may be also employed.

9. After this first lotion which must be used with great care, and continued at least ten minutes, the part must be burnt, either by applying a red hot iron, or a caustic such as aqua fortis, or any application of this sort: but whatever means are employed, the scalding must extend to all the bitten part, and follow all its sinuosity, its direction, and to do well this important operation, one must observe, 1st. that in the number of the teeth which line the jaw of the animal, there are two on each side which are long, sharp and crooked. 2d. That the diseased animal causes them to penetrate deeply. 3d. That the flesh pressed by the jaws yields to their force, and that thus the bite is often oblique, and deeper than it appears

10. Whatever be the number, the size, and the situation of the bite, one must pay the same attention to each.

11. The continuation of the treatment consists in applying simple dressings of a plaster proper to facilitate and keep up the suppuration, to hasten the falling off of the parts which have been burnt. It is also very important to remove from the patient any cause of fear or inquietude, and endeavor to convince him that the treatment is efficacious and certain, since it destroys the poison in the part where it had been introduced.

12. The same treatment must be employed for cattle bitten by a mad dog: however if the bite is confined to the tail, the ear, or a part of little importance to life, it is more simple and more expeditious to cut out immediately the part under the bitten place.

[For the successful treatment of Hydrophobia by acetate of lead, see cases published in this Gazette No. 28.]

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