- end_line
- 5266
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 5199
- text
- kept reciprocally going up and down in them, by means of the cord; even
so, my lord, do I sometimes fancy, that our theorists divert
them-selves with the greediness of Mardians to believe.”
“Ha, ha,” cried Media, “methinks this must be Azzageddi who speaks.”
“No, my lord; not long since, Azzageddi received a furlough to go home
and warm himself for a while. But this leaves me not alone.”
“How?”
“My lord,—for the present putting Azzageddi entirely aside,—though I
have now been upon terms of close companionship with myself for nigh
five hundred moons, I have not yet been able to decide who or what I
am. To you, perhaps, I seem Babbalanja; but to myself, I seem not
myself. All I am sure of, is a sort of prickly sensation all over me,
which they call life; and, occasionally, a headache or a queer conceit
admonishes me, that there is something astir in my attic. But how know
I, that these sensations are identical with myself? For aught I know, I
may be somebody else. At any rate, I keep an eye on myself, as I would
on a stranger. There is something going on in me, that is independent
of me. Many a time, have I willed to do one thing, and another has been
done. I will not say by myself, for I was not consulted about it; it
was done instinctively. My most virtuous thoughts are not born of my
musings, but spring up in me, like bright fancies to the poet;
unsought, spontaneous. Whence they come I know not. I am a blind man
pushed from behind; in vain, I turn about to see what propels me. As
vanity, I regard the praises of my friends; for what they commend
pertains not to me, Babbalanja; but to this unknown something that
forces me to it. But why am I, a middle aged Mardian, less prone to
excesses than when a youth? The same inducements and allurements are
around me. But no; my more ardent passions are burned out; those which
are strongest when we are least able to resist them. Thus, then, my
lord, it is not so much outer temptations that prevail over us mortals;
but inward instincts.”
“A very curious speculation,” said Media. But Babbalanja, have you
mortals no moral sense, as they call it?”
“We have. But the thing you speak of is but an after-birth; we eat and
drink many months before we are conscious of thoughts. And though some
adults would seem to refer all their actions to this moral sense, yet,
in reality, it is not so; for, dominant in them, their moral sense
bridles their instinctive passions; wherefore, they do not govern
themselves, but are governed by their very natures. Thus, some men in
youth are constitutionally as staid as I am now. But shall we pronounce
them pious and worthy youths for this? Does he abstain, who is not
incited? And on the other hand, if the instinctive passions through
life naturally have the supremacy over the moral sense, as in extreme
cases we see it developed in irreclaimable malefactors,—shall we
pronounce such, criminal and detestable wretches? My lord, it is easier
for some men to be saints, than for others not to be sinners.”
“That will do, Babbalanja; you are on the verge, take not the leap! Go
back whence you set out, and tell us of that other, and still more
mysterious Azzageddi; him whom you hinted to have palmed himself off on
you for you yourself.”
“Well, then, my lord,—Azzageddi still set aside,—upon that self-same
inscrutable stranger, I charge all those past actions of mine, which in
the retrospect appear to me such eminent folly, that I am confident, it
was not I, Babbalanja, now speaking, that committed them. Nevertheless,
my lord, this very day I may do some act, which at a future period may
seem equally senseless; for in one lifetime we live a hundred lives. By
the incomprehensible stranger in me, I say, this body of mine has been
rented out scores of times, though always one dark chamber in me is
retained by the old mystery.”
- title
- Chunk 2