Mardi: and A Voyage Thither, Vol. 2 (of 2)

Chapter 31

Babbalanja Discourses In The Dark

Next day came and went; and still we onward sailed. At last, by night,

there fell a calm, becalming the water of the wide lagoon, and

becalming all the clouds in heaven, wailing the constellations. But

though our sails were useless, our paddlers plied their broad stout

blades. Thus sweeping by a rent and hoar old rock, Vee-Vee, impatient

of the calm, sprang to his crow's nest in the shark's mouth, and

seizing his conch, sounded a blast which ran in and out among the

hollows, reverberating with the echoes.

Be sure, it was startling. But more so with respect to one of our

paddlers, upon whose shoulders, elevated Vee-Vee, his balance lost,

all at once came down by the run. But the heedless little bugler

himself was most injured by the fall; his arm nearly being broken.

Some remedies applied, and the company grown composed, Babbalanja

thus:--"My lord Media, was there any human necessity for that

accident?"

"None that I know, or care to tell, Babbalanja."

"Vee-Vee," said Babbalanja, "did you fall on purpose?"

"Not I," sobbed little Vee-Vee, slinging his ailing arm in its mate.

"Woe! woe to us all, then," cried Babbalanja; "for what direful events

may be in store for us which we can not avoid."

"How now, mortal?" cried Media; "what now?"

"My lord, think of it. Minus human inducement from without, and minus

volition from within, Vee-Vee has met with an accident, which has

almost maimed him for life. Is it not terrifying to think of? Are not

all mortals exposed to similar, nay, worse calamities, ineffably

unavoidable? Woe, woe, I say, to us Mardians! Here, take my last

breath; let me give up this beggarly ghost!"

"Nay," said Media; "pause, Babbalanja. Turn it not adrift prematurely.

Let it house till midnight; the proper time for you mortals to

dissolve. But, philosopher, if you harp upon Vee-Vee's mishap, know

that it was owing to nothing but his carelessness."

"And what was that owing to, my lord?"

"To Vee-Vee himself."

"Then, my lord, what brought such a careless being into Mardi?"

"A long course of generations. He's some one's great-great-grandson,

doubtless; who was great-great-grandson to some one else; who also had

grandsires."

"Many thanks then to your highness; for you establish the doctrine of

Philosophical Necessity."

"No. I establish nothing; I but answer your questions."

"All one, my lord: you are a Necessitarian; in other words, you hold

that every thing takes place through absolute necessity."

"Do you take me, then, for a fool, and a Fatalist? Pardie! a bad creed

for a monarch, the distributor of rewards and punishments."

"Right there, my lord. But, for all that, your highness is a

Necessitarian, yet no Fatalist. Confound not the distinct. Fatalism

presumes express and irrevocable edicts of heaven concerning

particular events. Whereas, Necessity holds that all events are

naturally linked, and inevitably follow each other, without

providential interposition, though by the eternal letting of

Providence."

"Well, well, Babbalanja, I grant it all. Go on."

"On high authority, we are told that in times past the fall of certain

nations in Mardi was prophesied of seers."

"Most true, my lord," said Mohi; "it is all down in the chronicles."

"Ha! ha!" cried Media. "Go on, philosopher."

Continued Babbalanja, "Previous to the time assigned to their

fulfillment, those prophecies were bruited through Mardi; hence,

previous to the time assigned to their fulfillment, full knowledge of

them may have come to the nations concerned. Now, my lord, was it

possible for those nations, thus forwarned, so to conduct their

affairs, as at, the prophesied time, to prove false the events

revealed to be in store for them?"

"However that may be," said Mohi, "certain it is, those events did

assuredly come to pass:--Compare the ruins of Babbelona with book

ninth, chapter tenth, of the chronicles. Yea, yea, the owl inhabits

where the seers predicted; the jackals yell in the tombs of the

kings."

"Go on, Babbalanja," said Media. "Of course those nations could not

have resisted their doom. Go on, then: vault over your premises."

"If it be, then, my lord, that--"

"My very worshipful lord," interposed Mohi, "is not our philosopher

getting off soundings; and may it not be impious to meddle with these

things?"

"Were it so, old man, he should have known it. The king of Odo is

something more than you mortals."

"But are we the great gods themselves," cried Yoomy, "that we

discourse of these things."

"No, minstrel," said Babbalanja; "and no need have the great gods to

discourse of things perfectly comprehended by them, and by themselves

ordained. But you and I, Yoomy, are men, and not gods; hence is it for

us, and not for them, to take these things for our themes. Nor is

there any impiety in the right use of our reason, whatever the issue.

Smote with superstition, shall we let it wither and die out, a dead,

limb to a live trunk, as the mad devotee's arm held up motionless for

years? Or shall we employ it but for a paw, to help us to our bodily

needs, as the brutes use their instinct? Is not reason subtile as

quicksilver--live as lightning--a neighing charger to advance, but a

snail to recede? Can we starve that noble instinct in us, and hope

that it will survive? Better slay the body than the soul; and if it be

the direst of sins to be the murderers of our own bodies, how much

more to be a soul-suicide. Yoomy, we are men, we are angels. And in

his faculties, high Oro is but what a man would be, infinitely

magnified. Let us aspire to all things. Are we babes in the woods, to

be scared by the shadows of the trees? What shall appall us? If eagles

gaze at the sun, may not men at the gods?"

"For one," said Media, "you may gaze at me freely. Gaze on. But talk

not of my kinsmen so fluently, Babbalanja. Return to your argument."

"I go back then, my lord. By implication, you have granted, that in

times past the future was foreknown of Oro; hence, in times past, the

future must have been foreordained. But in all things Oro is

immutable. Wherefore our own future is foreknown and foreordained.

Now, if things foreordained concerning nations have in times past been

revealed to them previous to their taking place, then something

similar may be presumable concerning individual men now living. That

is to say, out of all the events destined to befall any one man, it is

not impossible that previous knowledge of some one of these events

might supernaturally come to him. Say, then, it is revealed to me,

that ten days hence I shall, of my own choice, fall upon my javelin;

when the time comes round, could I refrain from suicide? Grant the

strongest presumable motives to the act; grant that, unforewarned, I

would slay myself outright at the time appointed: yet, foretold of it,

and resolved to test the decree to the uttermost, under such

circumstances, I say, would it be possible for me not to kill myself?

If possible, then predestination is not a thing absolute; and Heaven

is wise to keep secret from us those decrees, whose virtue consists in

secrecy. But if not possible, then that suicide would not be mine, but

Oro's. And, by consequence, not only that act, but all my acts, are

Oro's. In sum, my lord, he who believes that in times past, prophets

have prophesied, and their prophecies have been fulfilled; when put to

it, inevitably must allow that every man now living is an

irresponsible being."

"In sooth, a very fine argument very finely argued," said Media. "You

have done marvels, Babbalanja. But hark ye, were I so disposed, I

could deny you all over, premises and conclusions alike. And

furthermore, my cogent philosopher, had you published that anarchical

dogma among my subjects in Oro, I had silenced you by my spear-headed

scepter, instead of my uplifted finger."

"Then, all thanks and all honor to your generosity, my lord, in

granting us the immunities you did at the outset of this voyage. But,

my lord, permit me one word more. Is not Oro omnipresent--absolutely

every where?"

"So you mortals teach, Babbalanja."

"But so do they _mean_, my lord. Often do we Mardians stick to terms

for ages, yet truly apply not their meanings."

"Well, Oro is every where. What now?"

"Then, if that be absolutely so, Oro is not merely a universal on-

looker, but occupies and fills all space; and no vacancy is left for

any being, or any thing but Oro. Hence, Oro is _in_ all things, and

himself _is_ all things--the time-old creed. But since evil abounds,

and Oro is all things, then he can not be perfectly good; wherefore,

Oro's omnipresence and moral perfection seem incompatible.

Furthermore, my lord those orthodox systems which ascribe to Oro

almighty and universal attributes every way, those systems, I say,

destroy all intellectual individualities but Oro, and resolve the

universe into him. But this is a heresy; wherefore, orthodoxy and

heresy are one. And thus is it, my lord, that upon these matters we

Mardians all agree and disagree together, and kill each other with

weapons that burst in our hands. Ah, my lord, with what mind must

blessed Oro look down upon this scene! Think you he discriminates

between the deist and atheist? Nay; for the Searcher of the cores of

all hearts well knoweth that atheists there are none. For in things

abstract, men but differ in the sounds that come from their mouths,

and not in the wordless thoughts lying at the bottom of their beings.

The universe is all of one mind. Though my twin-brother sware to me,

by the blazing sun in heaven at noon-day, that Oro is not; yet would

he belie the thing he intended to express. And who lives that

blasphemes? What jargon of human sounds so puissant as to insult the

unutterable majesty divine? Is Oro's honor in the keeping of Mardi?--

Oro's conscience in man's hands? Where our warrant, with Oro's sign-

manual, to justify the killing, burning, and destroying, or far worse,

the social persecutions we institute in his behalf? Ah! how shall

these self-assumed attorneys and vicegerents be astounded, when they

shall see all heaven peopled with heretics and heathens, and all hell

nodding over with miters! Ah! let us Mardians quit this insanity. Let

us be content with the theology in the grass and the flower, in seed-

time and harvest. Be it enough for us to know that Oro indubitably is.

My lord! my lord! sick with the spectacle of the madness of men, and

broken with spontaneous doubts, I sometimes see but two things in all

Mardi to believe:--that I myself exist, and that I can most happily,

or least miserably exist, by the practice of righteousness. All else

is in the clouds; and naught else may I learn, till the firmament be

split from horizon to horizon. Yet, alas! too often do I swing from

these moorings."

"Alas! his fit is coming upon him again," whispered Yoomy.

"Why, Babbalanja," said Media, "I almost pity you. You are too warm,

too warm. Why fever your soul with these things? To no use you mortals

wax earnest. No thanks, but curses, will you get for your earnestness.

You yourself you harm most. Why not take creeds as they come? It is

not so hard to be persuaded; never mind about believing."

"True, my lord; not very hard; no act is required; only passiveness.

Stand still and receive. Faith is to the thoughtless, doubts to the

thinker."

"Then, why think at all? Is it not better for you mortals to clutch

error as in a vice, than have your fingers meet in your hand? And to

what end your eternal inquisitions? You have nothing to substitute.

You say all is a lie; then out with the truth. Philosopher, your devil

is but a foolish one, after all. I, a demi-god, never say nay to these

things."

"Yea, my lord, it would hardly answer for Oro himself, were he to come

down to Mardi, to deny men's theories concerning him. Did they not

strike at the rash deity in Alma?"

"Then, why deny those theories yourself? Babbalanja, you almost affect

my immortal serenity. Must you forever be a sieve for good /grain to

run through, while you retain but the chaff? Your tongue is forked.

You speak two languages: flat folly for yourself, and wisdom for

others. Babbalanja, if you have any belief of your own, keep it; but,

in Oro's name, keep it secret."

"Ay, my lord, in these things wise men are spectators, not actors;

wise men look on, and say 'ay.'"

"Why not say so yourself, then?"

"My lord, because I have often told you, that I am a fool, and not wise."

"Your Highness," said Mohi, "this whole discourse seems to have grown

out of the subject of Necessity and Free Will. Now, when a boy, I

recollect hearing a sage say, that these things were reconcilable."

"Ay?" said Media, "what say you to that, now, Babbalanja?"

"It may be even so, my lord. Shall I tell you a story?"

"Azzageddi's stirring now," muttered Mohi.

"Proceed," said Media.

"King Normo had a fool, called Willi, whom he loved to humor. Now,

though Willi ever obeyed his lord, by the very instinct of his

servitude, he flattered himself that he was free; and this conceit it

was, that made the fool so entertaining to the king. One day, said

Normo to his fool,--'Go, Willi, to yonder tree, and wait there till I

come,' 'Your Majesty, I will,' said Willi, bowing beneath his jingling

bells; 'but I presume your Majesty has no objections to my walking on

my hands:--I am free, I hope.' 'Perfectly,' said Normo, 'hands or

feet, it's all the same to me; only do my bidding.' 'I thought as

much,' said Willi; so, swinging his limber legs into the air, Willi,

thumb after thumb, essayed progression. But soon, his bottled blood so

rushed downward through his neck, that he was fain to turn a somerset

and regain his feet. Said he, 'Though I am free to do it, it's not so

easy turning digits into toes; I'll walk, by gad! which is my other

option.' So he went straight forward, and did King Normo's bidding in

the natural way."

"A curious story that," said Media; "whence came it?"

"My lord, where every thing, but one, is to be had:--within."

"You are charged to the muzzle, then," said Braid-Beard. "Yes, Mohi;

and my talk is my overflowing, not my fullness."

"And what may you be so full of?"

"Of myself."

"So it seems," said Mohi, whisking away a fly with his beard.

"Babbalanja," said Media, "you did right in selecting this ebon night

for discussing the theme you did; and truly, you mortals are but too

apt to talk in the dark."

"Ay, my lord, and we mortals may prate still more in the dark, when we

are dead; for methinks, that if we then prate at all, 'twill be in our

sleep. Ah! my lord, think not that in aught I've said this night, I

would assert any wisdom of my own. I but fight against the armed and

crested Lies of Mardi, that like a host, assail me. I am stuck full of

darts; but, tearing them from out me, gasping, I discharge them whence

they come."

So saying, Babbalanja slowly drooped, and fell reclining; then lay

motionless as the marble Gladiator, that for centuries has been dying.