THE SEVEN WONDERS OF BARSOOM SERIES
TOONOL AND PHUNDAHL
Second Runner-Up in the Seven Wonders of Barsooom
by
Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.
INTRODUCTION
“Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,”
wrote Rudyard Kipling in his famous poen, “The Ballad of East and West,”
and it is just as fitting a description of Toonol and Phundahl which inhabit
the eastern and western boundaries of the Great Toonolian Marshes on Barsoom
respectively. These two cities, as we shall see, are polar opposites of
each other and eternal enemies.
Toonol is atheistic and Phundahl – as can be imagined by its name –
fosters a fundamentalistic religion that is even more absurd than that
of Issus. ERB wrote this masterpiece in 1927, ten years before Kipling
died, but its lessons are just as valid today as they were then, especially
with the West's protracted war with the radical, militant Islam of the
Middle East.
But, as socially relevant as it might be, ERB never intended to let
religion, philosophy, or politics interfere with a rousing good adventure
story. And that is exactly what The Master Mind of Mars serves up,
the sixth novel in the Barsoom saga, where we are introduced to these two
rival city states.
DATA
ERB continues to poke fun at Christianity in his psuedo-myth of John
Carter by documenting the account of the faithful believer, Captain Ulysses
Paxton, late of the U.S. Infantry – who has perished in France during WWI
– and because of his belief and faith, is transported to ERB's Valhalla,
the red planet of the God of War. In a letter to ERB transmitted by mysterious
means, Paxton tells us of how he first read A Princess of Mars
while in officer's training camp:
“The story made a profound impression
upon me and while my better judgment assured me that it was but a highly
imaginative piece of fiction, a suggestion of the verity of it pervaded
my inner consciousness to such an extent that I found myself dreaming of
Mars and John Carter, of Dejah Thoris, of Tars Tarkas and of Woola as if
they had been entities of my own experience rather than the figments of
your imagination.” (MMM/Preface Letter.)
While tongue-in-cheek, ERB is recounting here what took place in the countless
millions of readers around the globe that experienced similar dreams and
aspirations based on the story that bordered on religious mania. Almost
all of the pioneers of classic science fiction, as well as many scientists
who went on to launch the first manned moon mission, experienced similar
emotions after reading the Barsoom novels.
After recounting how his legs were blown off by an artillery shell in
the trenches of France, how he lay there bleeding to death in the bomb
crater, fearful more of going through life maimed than of surviving, he
relates the same kind of experience as Carter went through in the Arizona
cave:
“Then my eyes suddenly focused upon the
bright red eye of Mars and there surged through me a sudden wave of hope.
I stretched out my arms towards Mars, I did not seem to question or to
doubt for an instant as I prayed to the god of my vocation to reach forth
and succour me. I knew that he would do it, my faith was complete, and
yet so great was the mental effort that I made to throw off the hideous
bonds of my mutilated flesh that I felt a momentary qualm of nausea and
then a sharp click as of the snapping of a steel wire, and suddenly I stood
naked upon two good legs looking down upon the bloody, distorted thing
that had been I....
“Suddenly I felt myself drawn with the speed of
thought through the trackless wastes of interplanetary space. There was
an instant of extreme cold and utter darkness, then – “But the rest is
in the manuscript that, with the aid of one greater than either of us,
I have found the means to transmit to you with this letter. You and a few
others of the chosen will believe in it – for the rest it matters not as
yet. The time will come – but why tell you what you already know?” (MMM/Preface
Letter.)
Note the idea of believers in ERB’s Barsoom as the “chosen ones,” as well
as the idea of the letter being transmitted by means of “one who is greater”
than both of them. One could assume that he was talking about Ras Thavas,
the Master Mind of Mars, but the idea of a Higher Power – the God of Mars
– seems to be the more obvious reference. Perhaps ERB thought he was going
too far with this last concept, a problem which he took care of with the
invention of the Gridley Wave shortly thereafter, which served him well
in later novels dealing with Barsoom, Tarzan, and Pellucidar.
A. The Island of Dr. Thavas.
Paxton wakes up naked on his back in the garden of Ras Thavas, who
is looking down at him:
“He appeared to be quite an old man,
for he was wrinkled and withered beyond description. His limbs were emaciated;
his ribs showed distinctly beneath his shrunken hide; his cranium was large
and well developed, which, in conjunction with his wasted limbs and torso,
lent him the appearance of top heaviness, as though he had a head beyond
all proportion to his body, which was, I am sure, not really the case.
“As he stared down upon me through enormous, many
lensed spectacles I found the opportunity to examine him as minutely in
return. He was, perhaps, five feet five in height, though doubtless he
had been taller in youth, since he was somewhat bent; he was naked except
for some rather plain and well-worn leather harness which supported his
weapons and pocket-pouches, and one great ornament, a collar, jewel studded,
that he wore around his scraggy neck...” (MMM/1.)
The old man speaks to him but he can’t understand the language, then he
sits up and looks around:
“I was seated upon a scarlet sward within
a highly walled enclosure, at least two, and possibly three, sides of which
were formed by the outer walls of a structure that in some respects resembled
more closely a feudal castle of Europe than any familiar form of architecture
that comes to mind. The facade presented to my view was ornately carved
and of most irregular design, the roof line being so broken as to almost
suggest a ruin, and yet the whole seemed harmonious and not without beauty.
Within the enclosure grew a number of trees and shrubs, all weirdly strange
and all, or almost all, profusely flowering. About them wound walks of
colored pebbles among which scintillated what appeared to be rare and beautiful
gems, so lovely were the strange, unearthly rays that leaped and played
in the sunshine.” (MMM/1.)
The old man speaks again with sounds like a command, then goes for his
sword when Paxton shakes his head in nonunderstanding. Paxton then leaps
to his feet and experiences what Carter experienced before him: the lesser
gravity of Mars, confirming the fact in his mind that he is really on Barsoom.
The old man is so shocked his spectacles fall off, leaving him almost
blind.
A naked red man then comes on the scene carrying a club and attacks
the old man. Paxton saves him by killing the man with the club; the old
man takes him on as his assistant in his experiments. Paxton learns that
the old man is Ras Thavas, a scientist-doctor, who can perform brain transplants
from one body to another:
“The old man led me into a small chamber
from which opened numerous doors, through one of which they were just bearing
my late antagonist. We followed into a large, brightly lighted chamber
wherein there burst upon my astounded vision the most gruesome scene that
I had ever beheld. Rows upon rows of tables arranged in parallel lines
filled the room and with few exceptions each table bore a similar grisly
burden, a partially dismembered or otherwise mutilated human corpse. Above
each table was a shelf bearing containers of various sizes and shapes,
while from the bottom of the shelf depended numerous surgical instruments,
suggesting that my entrance upon Barsoom was to be through a gigantic medical
colllege.” (MMM/1.)
Paxton witnesses the old man making incisions in the man he had just killed,
then inserting tubes which drain the body of its precious fluids, replacing
them with somekind of preserving fluid. They go into another room where
an old woman seeks aid from the old man.
She is Xaxa, Jeddara of Phundahl, who wishes to have her brain transplanted
into a new beautiful body of a young woman, and they proceed to another
room:
“It closely resembled the others except
that all of the bodies were of young women, many of them of great beauty.
Following closely on the heels of the old man the woman inspected the gruesome
exhibit with painstaking care. Thrice she passed slowly among the tables
examining their ghastly burdens. Each time she paused longest before a
certain one which bore the figure of the most beautiful creature I had
ever looked upon; then she returned the fourth time to it and stood looking
long and earnestly into the dead face.” (MMM/1.)
She chooses this body, and her brain is then transferred into the body
of the girl and the girl’s brain transferred into her old body. This scene
is wonderfully captured by several artists which can be viewed at ERBzine
#0875, ERBzine #0427,
and at www.johncarterofmars.ca/mars
(for the latter, scroll down to the “Art” section, click on the “Thomas
Yeates Art Gallery,” then click on “Portfolio
I,” the bottom picture; above that one, to the left, is a fairly accurate
version of the Jetan Field of Manator with Gahan of Gathol and U-Dor riding
thoats.)
Weeks pass and Paxton slowly learns the Martian language and that the
Master Mind of Mars is originally from Toonol. Ras Thavas gives him a Martian
name, Vad Varo, and teaches him his art and makes Vad Varo his bodyguard
because he believes in such things as love, loyalty, friendship, enmity,
jealousy, hate, and a thousand others, whereas Ras Thavas believes
these things to be merely sentimentalism, explaining to Vad Varo:
“‘Sentiment is indeed a bar to all progress.
We of Toonol are probably less subject to its vagaries than most other
nations upon Barsoom, but yet most of my fellow countrymen are victims
of it in varying degrees. It has its rewards and compensations, however.
Without it we could preserve no stable form of government and the Phundalians,
or some other people, would overrun and conquer us; but enough of our lower
classes have sentiment to a sufficient degree to give them loyalty to the
Jeddak of Toonol and the upper classes are brainy enough to know that it
is to their best interests to keep him upon his throne.
“‘The Phundalians, upon the other hand, are egregious
sentimentalists, filled with crass stupidities and superstitions, slaves
to every variety of brain withering conceit. Why the very fact that they
keep the old termagant, Xaxa, upon the throne brands them with their stupid
idiocy. She is an ignorant, arrogant, selfish, stupid, cruel virago, yet
the Phundalians would fight and die for her because her father was Jeddak
of Phundahl. She taxes them until they can scarce stagger beneath their
burden, she misrules them, exploits them, betrays them, and they fall down
and worship at her feet. Why? Because her father was Jeddak of Phundahl
and his father before him and so on back into antiquity; because they are
ruled by sentiment rather than reason; because their wicked rulers play
upon this sentiment.’” (MMM/2.)
Vad Varo reminds Ras Thavas that he too displays sentiment in the pride
he takes in his intellect, to which Ras Thavas replies:
“‘It is not pride,’ he said, patiently,
for him, ‘it is merely a fact that I state. A fact that I should have no
difficulty in proving. In all probability I have the most highly developed
and perfectly functioning mind among all the learned men of my acquaintance,
and reason indicates that this fact also suggests that I possess the most
highly developed and perfectly functioning mind upon Barsoom. From what
I know of Earth and from what I have seen of you, I am convinced that there
is no mind upon your planet that may even fairly approximate in power that
which I have developed during a thousand years of active study and research.’”
(MMM/2.)
Thus the title, Master Mind of Mars. Ras Thavas allows Vad
Varo to experiment on the old body of Xaxa and he falls in love with her
brain, the one of the beautiful young woman, whom he learns is named Valla
Dia of Duhor. He vows to restore her brain to her true body and finds just
the opportunity when Ras Thavas tells him the real reason why he has taught
Vad his surgical technique:
“This plan that I have chosen is simplicity
itself provided that I can count upon just two essential factors – skill
and self-interested loyalty in an assistant. My body is about worn out.
I must have a new one. My laboratory is filled with wonderful bodies, young
and complete with potential strength and health. I have but to select one
of these and have my skilled assistant transfer my brain from this old
carcass to the new one.’” (MMM/4.)
Vad agrees to the operation on one condition, that the body of Valla Dia
is returned to her, a condition to which Ras Thavas reluctantly agrees.
He performs the operation and Ras Thavas begins to trust him so much, he
gives him a full tour of his domain, including a high tower:
“He led me immediately to a lofty tower
that rose at the corner of the largest building of the group that comprised
his vast establishment. Within was a circular runway which led not only
upward, but down as well. This we ascended, passing openings at each floor,
until we came at last out upon its lofty summit.
“About me spread the first Barsoomian landscape
of any extent upon which my eyes had yet rested during the long months
that I had spent upon the Red Planet. For almost an Earthly year I had
been immured within the grim walls of Ras Thavas’ bloody laboratory, until,
such creatures of habit are we, the weird life there had grown to seem
quite natural and ordinary; but with this first glimpse of open country
there surged up within me an urge for freedom, for space, for room to move
about, such as I knew would would not be long denied.
“Directly beneath lay an irregular patch of rocky
land elevated perhaps a dozen feet or more above the general level of the
immediatel surrounding country. Its extent was, at a rough guess, a hundred
acres. Upon this stood the buildings and grounds, which were enclosed in
a high wall. The tower upon which we stood was situated at about the center
of the total area enclosed. Beyond the outer wall was a strip of rocky
ground on which grew a sparse forest of fair sized trees interspersed with
patches of jungle growth, and beyond all, what appeared to be an oozy marsh
through which were narrow water courses connecting occasional open water
– little lakes, the largest of which could have comprised scarce two acres.
The landscape extended as far as the eye could reach, broken by occasional
islands similar to that upon which we were and at a short distance by the
skyline of a large city, whose towers and domes and minarets glistened
and sparkled in the sun as though plated with shiny metals and picked out
with precious gems.
“This, I knew, must be Toonol and all about us
the Great Toonolian Marshes, which extend nearly eighteen hundred Earth
miles east and west and in some places have a width of three hundred miles.
Little is known about them in other portions of Barsoom as they are frequented
by fierce beasts, afford no landing places for fliers and are commanded
by Phundahl at their western end and Toonol at the east; inhospitable kingdoms
that invite no intercourse with the outside world and maintain their independence
alone by their inaccessibility and savage aloofness.’” (MMM/6.)
Vad Varo then spies Great White Apes emerge from the patches of jungle
on their island and Ras Thavas tells them that they serve a dual purpose:
they keep out assassins from Toonol and they prevent desertion from his
slaves and assistants. To get around this, Vad Varo plans his escape so
that he can return with Valla Dia’s true body, currently possessed by Xaxa.
He conceals Valla Dia and enlists the help of several allies: Gor Hajus,
the assassin of Toonol, whose body has been in suspended animation for
six years; Dar Tarus, a handsome noble of Phundahl who was betrayed by
another noble who then arranged for their brains to be transferred so that
the rival noble could possess a girl who was in love with Dar Tarus; and
Hovan Du, a Great White Ape that has had half of his ape brain transferred
into that a human, and half of the human's – Hovan Du’s – transferred into
the Great White Ape’s. Hovan Du's human half brain is dominant in the Great
White Ape and makes a perfect ally.
B. Toonol.
They stow aboard a flier and make their escape to Toonol:
“From the summit of the landing tower
I had my first view of a Martian city. Several hundred feet below me lay
spread the broad, well-lighted avenues of Toonol, many of which were crowded
with people. Here and there, in this central district, a building was raised
high upon its supporting, cylindrical metal shaft; while further out, where
the residences predominated, the city took on the appearance of a colossal
and grotesque forest. Among the larger palaces only an occasional suite
of rooms was thus raised high above the level of the others, these being
the sleeping apartments of the owners, their servants or their guests;
but the smaller homes were raised in their entirety, a precaution necessitated
by the constant activities of the followers of Gor Hajus’ ancient profession
that permitted no man to be free from the constant menace of assassination.
Throughout the central district the sky was pierced by the lofty towers
of several other landing stages; but, as I was later to learn, these were
comparatively few in number. Toonol is in no sense a flying nation, supporting
no such enormous fleets of merchant ships and vessels of war as, for example,
the twin cities of Helium or the great capital of Ptarth.
“A peculiar feature of the street lighting of
Toonol, and in fact the same condition applies to the lighting of other
Barsoomian cities I have visited, I noted for the first time that night
as I waited upon the landing stage for the return of Bal Zak with the watchman.
The luminosity below seemed confined directly to the area to be lighted;
there was no diffusion of light upward or beyond the limits of the lamps
were designed to light. This was effected, I was told, by lamps designed
upon principles resulting from ages of investigation of the properties
of light waves and the laws governing them which permit Barsoomian scientists
to confine and control matter. The light waves leave the lamp, pass along
a prescribed circuit and return to the lamp. There is no waste nor, strange
this seemed to me, are there any dense shadows when lights are properly
installed and adjusted; for the waves in passing around objects to return
to the lamp, illuminate all sides of them.
“The effect of this lighting from the great height
of the tower was rather remarkable. The night was dark, there being no
moons at that hour upon this night, and the effect was that obtained when
sitting in a darkened auditorium and looking upon a brilliantly lighted
stage.” (MMM/8.)
This scene is breathtakingly captured by Frank R. Paul and can be viewed
at ERBzine #0875. To
avoid detection in reaching the house of Gor Hajus’ friend, Mu Tel – where
they hope to find shelter – they descend the tower by means of equilibrimotors:
 “We
therefore found the doors of the depot open and Gor Hajus and Dar Tarus
quickly selected four equilibrimotors and adjusted them upon us. They consist
of a broad belt, not unlike the life belt used aboard trans-oceanic liners
upon Earth; these belts are filled with the eighth Barsoomian ray, or ray
of repulsion, to a sufficient degree to just about equalize the pull of
gravity and thus to maintain a person in equilibrium between that force
and the opposite force exerted by the eighth ray. Permanently attached
to the back of the belt is a small radium motor, the controls of which
are upon the front of the belt. Rigidly attached to and projecting from
each side of the upper rim of the belt is a strong, light wing with small
hand levers for quickly altering its position.
“Gor Hajus quickly explained the method of control,
but I could apprehend that there might be embarrassment and trouble awaiting
me before I mastered the art of flying in an equilibrimotor. He showed
me how to tilt the wings downward in walking so that I would not leave
the ground at every step, and thus he led me to the edge of the landing
stage.” (MMM/8.)
As expected, what follows is an amusing flight and chase, but they eventually
find their way to the palace of Mu Tel’s palace of refuge. Again, this
scene is vividly depicted by Frank R. Paul at ERBzine
#0875. Vad Varo and Mu Tel hit it off and Mu Tel is interested in Earth
customs and eventually shows him a wonderful invention in which events
on Earth can be viewed – much like the device Dejah Thoris had told John
Carter about in A Princess of Mars:
“Mu Tel took me to a small auditorium
in his palace that reminded me somewhat of a private projection room on
Earth. It had, I should say, a capacity of some two hundred persons and
was built like a large camera obscura; the audience sitting within the
instrument, their backs towards the lens and in front of them, filling
one entire end of the room, a large ground glass upon which is thrown the
image to be observed.
“Mu Tel seated himself at a table upon which was
a chart of the heavens. Just above the chart was a movable arm carrying
a pointer. This pointer Mu Tel moved until it rested upon the planet Earth,
then he switched off the light in the room and immediately there appeared
upon the ground glass plate a view such as one might obtain from an airplane
riding at an elevation of thousand feet.” (MMM/9.)
Vad Varo witnesses a devastated landscape and asks if the pointer can be
directed to another locality:
“He lighted a small radio bulb between
us and I saw a globe there, a globe of Earth, and a small pointer fixed
over it.
“‘The side of this globe now presented to you
represents the face of the Earth turned towards us,’ explained Mu Tel.
‘You will note that the globe is slowly revolving. Place this pointer where
you will upon the globe and that portion of Jasoom will be revealed to
you.’” (MMM/9.)
Vad Varo discovers that the allies won the war and is happy it is over
because they fought for a great principle, to which Mu Tel replies:
“If you mean that you hope that your
principle will triumph because you fought and won, or that peace will come,
your hopes are futile. War never brought peace – it but brings more and
greater wars. War is Nature’s natural state – it is folly to combat it.
Peace should be considered only as a time for preparation for the principle
business of man’s existence. Were it not for constant warring of one form
of life upon another, and even upon itself, the planets would be so overrun
with life that it would smother itself out. We found upon Barsoom that
long periods of peace brought plagues and terrible diseases that killed
more than the wars killed and in a much more hideous and painful way. There
is neither pleasure nor thrill nor reward of any sort to be gained by dying
in bed of a loathsome disease. We must all die – let us therefore go out
and die in a great and exciting game, and make room for the millions who
are to follow us. We have tried it out upon Barsoom and we would not be
without war.’
“Mu Tel told me much that day about the peculiar
philosophy of Toonolians. They believe that no good deed was ever performed
except for a selfish motive; they have no god and no religion; they believe,
as do all educated Barsoomians, that man came originally from the Tree
of Life, but unlike most of their fellows they do not believe that an omnipotent
being created the Tree of Life. They hold that the only sin is failure
– success, however achieved, is meritorious; and yet, paradoxical as it
may seem, they never break their given word. Mu Tel explained that they
overcome the baneful results of this degrading weakness – this sentimental
bosh – by seldom, if ever, binding themselves to loyalty to another, and
then only for a definitely prescribed period.” (MMM/9.)
Vad Varo finds much to criticize about this philosophy, finding them, despite
their vaunted view of science, that they are much in the same way as religious
fanatics, and thus unbalanced. Vad Varo decides it is time to go to Phundahl
and fulfill his plan to return the rightful body to Valla Dia.
C. Phundahl.
They take a flier and head out for Phundahl, are stopped by a Toonlian
patrol, but are helped on their way for the Toonlians hold Gor Vajus in
high regard. They reach Phundahl undetected and enter the storage area
district where there is little traffic. They eat, entertain the crowd with
Hovan Du, who pretends to be a performing ape, and then head for a place
of lodging. But before they reach it, Dar Tarus of Phundahl, feels obligated
to perform his religious obligations. What passes is the funniest poke
at organized religion I have ever read:
“As we went we approached a great building
of wondrous beauty in and out of which constant streams of people were
streaming, and when we were before it, Dar Tarus asked us to wait without
as he must enter. When I asked him why, he told me that this was a temple
of Tur, the god worshipped by the people of Phundahl.
“‘I have been away for a long time,’ he said,
‘and have had no opportunity to do honor to my god. I shall not keep you
waiting long. Gor Hajus, will you loan me a few pieces of gold?’
“In silence the Toonolian took a few pieces of
money from one of his pocket pouches and handed them to Dar Tarus, but
I could see that it was only with difficulty that he hid an expression
of contempt, since the Toonolians are atheists.
“I asked Dar Tarus if I might accompany him into
the temple, which seemed to please him very much; and so we fell in with
the stream approaching the broad entrance. Dar Tarus gave me two of the
gold pieces that he had borrowed from Gor Hajus and told me to follow directly
behind him and do whatever I saw him doing. Directly inside the main entrance,
and spread entirely across it at intervals that permitted space for the
worshippers to pass between them, was a line of priests, their entire bodies,
including their heads and faces, covered by a mantle of white cloth. In
front of each was a substantial stand upon which rested a cash drawer.
As we approached one of these we handed him a piece of gold which he immediately
changed into many pieces of lesser value, one of which we dropped into
a box at his side; whereupon he made several passes with his hands above
our heads, dipped one of his fingers into a bowl of dirty water which he
rubbed upon the ends of our noses, mumbled a few words which I could not
understand and turned to the next in line as we passed on into the interior
of the great temple. Never have I seen such a gorgeous display of wealth
and lavish ornamentation as confronted my eyes in this the first of the
temple of Tur that it was my fortune to behold.” (MMM/10.)
Recalling that ERB worked as a policeman in Salt Lake City is helpful to
see what he is getting at with this parody. But on with the show:
“The enormous floor was unbroken by a
single pillar and arranged upon it at regular intervals were carven images
resting upon gorgeous pedestals. Some of these images were of men and some
of women and many of them were beautiful; and there were others of beasts
and of strange, grotesque creatures and many of these were hideous indeed.
The first that we approached was that of a beautiful female figure; and
about the pedestal of this lay a number of men and women prone upon the
floor against which they bumped their heads seven times and then arose
and dropped a piece of money into a receptacle provided for that purpose,
moving on then to another figure. The next that Dar Tarus and I visited
was that of a man with the body of a silian, about the pedestal of which
was arranged a series of horizontal wooden bars in concentric circles.
The bars were about five feet from the floor and hanging from them by their
knees were a number of men and women, repeating monotonously, over and
over again, something that sounded to me like, bibble-babble-blup.
“Dar Tarus and I swung to the bars like the others
and mumbled the meaningless phrase for a minute or two, then we swung down,
dropped a coin into the box, and moved on. I asked Dar Tarus what the words
were that we had repeated and what they meant, but he said he did not know.
I asked him if anyone knew, but he appeared shocked and said that such
a question was sacrilegious and revealed a marked lack of faith. At the
next figure we visited the people were all on their hands and knees crawling
madly in a circle about the pedestal. Seven times around they crawled and
then they arose and put some money in a dish and went their ways. At another
the people rolled about, saying, ‘Tur is Tur; Tur is Tur; Tur is Tur,’
and dropping money in a golden bowl when they were done.
“‘What god was that?’ I whispered to Dar Tarus
when we had quit this last figure, which had no head, but eyes, nose and
mouth in the center of its belly.
“‘There is but one god,’ replied Dar Tarus solemnly,
‘and he is Tur!’
“‘Was that Tur?’ I inquired.
“‘Silence, man,’ whispered Dar Tarus. ‘They would
tear you to pieces were they to hear such heresy.’
“‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ I exclaimed. ‘I did
not mean to offend. I see now that that is merely one of your idols.’“Dar
Tarus clapped a hand over my mouth. ‘S-s-s-t!’ he cautioned to silence.
‘We do not worship idols – there is but one god and he is Tur!’
“‘Well, what are these?’ I insisted, with a sweep
of a hand that embraced the several score images about which were gathered
the thousands of worshippers.
“‘We must not ask,’ he assured me. ‘It is enough
that we have faith that all the works of Tur are just and righteous. Come!
I shall soon be through and we may join our companions.’
“He led me next to the figure of a monstrosity
with a mouth that ran entirely around its head. It had a long tail and
the breasts of a woman. About this image were a great many people, each
standing upon his head. They also were repeating, over and over, ‘Tur is
Tur; Tur is Tur.’ When we had done this for a minute or two, during which
I had a devil of a time maintaining my equilibrium, we arose, dropped a
coin in the box by the pedestal and moved on.
“‘We may go now,’ said Dar Tarus. ‘I have done
well in the sight of Tur.’
“‘I notice,’ I remarked, ‘that the people repeated
the same phrase before this figure that they did at the last – Tur is Tur.’
“‘Oh, no,’ exclaimed Dar Tarus. ‘On the contrary
they said just exactly the opposite from what they said at the other. At
that they said, Tur is Tur; while at this they absolutely reversed it and
said, Tur is Tur. Do you not see? They turned it right around backwards,
which makes a very great difference.’
“‘It sounded the same to me,’ I insisted.
“‘That is because you lack faith,’ he said sadly,
and we passed out of the temple, after depositing the rest of our money
in a huge chest, of which there were many standing about almost filled
with coins.” (MMM/10.)
If this was not hilarious to you, then you lack faith. But, wait, the fun
is not over. Vad Varo asks Dar Tarus to explain the religion of Tur to
him, for he is fascinated by the mysteries of religion:
“‘Ah, but that is the beauty of the religion
of Tur,’ he exclaimed, ‘it has no mysteries. It is simple, natural, scientific
and every word and work of it is susceptible of proof through the pages
of Turgan, the great book written by Tur himself.
“‘Tur’s home is upon the sun. There, one hundred
thousands of years ago, he made Barsoom and tossed it out into space. Then
he amused himself by creating man in various forms and two sexes; and later
he fashioned animals to be food for man and each other, and caused vegetation
and water to appear that man and the animals might live. Do you not see
how simple and scientific it all is?’
“‘But it was Gor Hajus who told me most about
the religion of Tur one day when Dar Tarus was not about. He said that
the Phundalians maintained that Tur still created every living thing with
his own hands. They denied vigorously that man possessed the power to reproduce
his kind and taught their young that all such belief was vile; and always
they hid every evidence of natural procreation, insisting to the death
that even those things which they witnessed with their eyes and experienced
with their own bodies in the bringing forth of their young never transpired.
“Turgan taught them that Barsoom is flat and they
shut their minds to every proof to the contrary. They would not leave Phundahl
far for fear of falling off the edge of the world; they would not permit
the development of aeronautics because should one of their ships circumnavigate
Barsoom it would be a wicked sacrilege in the eyes of Tur who made Barsoom
flat.
“They would not permit the use of telescopes,
for Tur taught them that there was no other world than Barsoom and to look
at another world would be heresy; nor would they permit the teaching in
their schools of any history of Barsoom that antedated the creation of
Barsoom by Tur, though Barsoom has a well authenticated written history
that reaches back more than one hundred thousand years; nor would they
permit any geography of Barsoom except that which appears in Turgan, nor
any scientific researches along biological lines. Turgan is their
only text book – if it is not in Turgan it is a wicked lie.
“Much of all this and a great deal more I gathered
from one source or another during my brief stay in Phundahl, whose people
are, I believe, the least advanced in civilization of any of the red nations
upon Barsoom. Giving, as they do, all their best thought to religious matters,
they have become ignorant, bigoted and narrow, going as far to one extreme
as the Toonolians do to the other.” (MMM/10.)
As the story progresses, they come across a huge idol of Tur in the Jeddara’s
temple, which allows more fun and priest trickery to unfold. But I will
allow the reader to enjoy that on his or her own, the main point of this
discourse being finished.
ANALYSIS
H.G. Wells dealt with unethical medical research and the horrors of
vivisection in The Island of Dr. Moreau in 1895, with which
I am sure ERB was acquainted. Dr. Moreau had been ostracized out of his
country when the gruesome details of his research came to light. The narrator,
an admirer of research, comments early in the novel, before the full facts
of the island
are made known:
“It was not the first time that conscience
had turned against the methods of research. The doctor was simply howled
out of the country. It may be he deserved to be, but I still think the
tepid support of his fellow investigators, and his desertion by the great
body of scientific workers, was a shameful thing. Yet, some of his experiments,
by the journalists account, were wantonly cruel. He might perhaps have
purchased his social peace by abandoning his investigations, but he apparently
preferred the latter, as most men would have once fallen under the overmastering
spell of research.” (Chapter 7.)
Later, Dr. Moreau explains his philosophy to the narrator:
“‘You see, I went on with this research
just the way it led me. That is the only way I ever heard of research going.
I asked a question, devised some method of getting an answer, and got –
a fresh question. Was this possible, or that possible? You cannot imagine
what this means to an investigator, what an intellectual passion grows
upon him. You cannot imagine the strange colorless delight of these intellectual
desires. The thing before you is no longer an animal, a fellow-creature,
but a problem. Sympathetic pain – all I know of it I remember as a thing
I used to suffer from years ago. I wanted – it was the only thing I wanted
– to find out the extreme limit of plasticity in a living shape.’
“‘But,’ said I, ‘the thing is an abomination –
’
“‘To this day I have never troubled about the
ethics of the matter. The study of Nature makes a man at last as remorseless
as Nature.’” (Chapter 14.)
This is the logic of the Nazi doctors who experimented on human beings
during the Third Reich, even though modern medicine advanced by leaps and
bounds as a result of it. Vad Varo assesses Ras Thavas similarly:
“Ras Thavas was as remarkable as the
things he accomplished. He was never intentionally cruel. He was not, I
am sure, intentionally wicked. He was guilty of the most diabolical cruelties
and the basest of crimes; yet in the next moment he might perform a deed
that if duplicated upon Earth would have raised him to the hightest pinnacle
of man’s esteem. Though I know that I am safe in saying that he was never
prompted to a cruel or criminal act by base motives, neither was he ever
urged to a humanitarian one by high motives. He had a purely scientific
mind entirely devoid of the cloying influences of sentiment, of which he
possessed none. His was a practical mind, as evidenced by the enormous
fees he demanded for his professional services; yet I know that he would
not operate for money alone and I have seen him devote days to the study
of a scientific problem the solution of which could add nothing to his
wealth, while the quarters that he furnished his waiting clients were overflowing
with wealthy patrons waiting to pour money into his coffers.
“His treatment of me was based entirely upon scientific
requirements. I offered a problem.” (MMM/2.)
We face the same dilemma today with single cell stem research. We must
beware the extremes of both Toonol and Phundahal as we move forward on
this great quest. The whole idea of brain transplants ERB raised in this
story is gripping in the metaphysical dilemma it poses. Where does the
soul dwell, if there is one? Is the brain merely another organ like a heart
or kidney that does not effect the “I-ness” of a person if it is transplanted.
Or is it that part of a person that is indispensable to an individual?
I remember when the first heart transplant was accomplished. Most of
the world thought that the whole idea was impossible. But now it is routine.
As for Toonol and Phundahl, they can be imagined as metaphors for Capitalism
and Socialism, or Christianity and Buddhism or Islam, where never the twain
shall meet. And as for Tur, well, Tur is Tur forwards and backwards. I
remember being raised by my mother who taught us that the Bible was dictated
by God and we were never to allow another book on top of
it or God would punish us. I was afraid to even read it, but I must
say, I enjoyed the pictures of all of the battles in the Old Testament.
When we recall the Dark Ages, and that Roman priests who were terrified
to peer into Galileo’s telescope out of fear of losing their faith and
being punished by God, it is fun to see this dilemma put into such a comic
light in the story of Turgan. As I write this on September 2, 2010, I recall
seeing on the History Channel this morning a narrator informing me that
the most visited
religious shrine in America is the Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City,
and it makes me wonder how such an absurd religion can capture the hearts
and minds of so many educated people, who wear magic underwear and perform
secret magical rites in their temples.
In Robert Heinlein’s future history of the world, outlined in the Forties,
he prophesied that America would experience a Mormon like theocracy in
this century. Stranger in a Strange Land is a story from
this period. When I see a Mormon candidate for President of the United
States being viewed as a viable candidate, as well as the insanity of the
Tea Party Movement, it makes me wonder if Heinlein was right. God help
us all if he was.
And there you have it,
ERB’s Toonol and Phundahl: the Second Runner-up in the Seven Wonders
of Barsoom!
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