by Edgar Allan Poe
(1850)
OINOS. Pardon, Agathos, the weakness of a
spirit new-fledged with immortality!
AGATHOS. You have spoken nothing, my Oinos, for
which pardon is to be demanded. Not even here is knowledge
thing of intuition. For wisdom, ask of the angels freely, that
it may be given!
OINOS. But in this existence, I dreamed that I
should be at once cognizant of all things, and thus at once be
happy in being cognizant of all.
AGATHOS. Ah, not in knowledge is happiness, but in
the acquisition of knowledge! In for ever knowing, we are for
ever blessed; but to know all were the curse of a fiend.
OINOS. But does not The Most High know all?
AGATHOS. That (since he is The Most Happy) must be
still the one thing unknown even to Him.
OINOS. But, since we grow hourly in knowledge,
must not at last all things be known?
AGATHOS. Look down into the abysmal distances!-
attempt to force the gaze down the multitudinous vistas of the
stars, as we sweep slowly through them thus- and thus- and
thus! Even the spiritual vision, is it not at all points
arrested by the continuous golden walls of the universe?- the
walls of the myriads of the shining bodies that mere number has
appeared to blend into unity?
OINOS. I clearly perceive that the infinity of
matter is no dream.
AGATHOS. There are no dreams in Aidenn- but it is
here whispered that, of this infinity of matter, the sole
purpose is to afford infinite springs, at which the soul may
allay the thirst to know, which is for ever unquenchable within
it- since to quench it, would be to extinguish the soul's self.
Question me then, my Oinos, freely and without fear. Come! we
will leave to the left the loud harmony of the Pleiades, and
swoop outward from the throne into the starry meadows beyond
Orion, where, for pansies and violets, and heart's- ease, are
the beds of the triplicate and triple- tinted suns.
OINOS. And now, Agathos, as we proceed, instruct
me!- speak to me in the earth's familiar tones. I understand
not what you hinted to me, just now, of the modes or of the
method of what, during mortality, we were accustomed to call
Creation. Do you mean to say that the Creator is not God?
AGATHOS. I mean to say that the Deity does not
create.
OINOS. Explain.
AGATHOS. In the beginning only, he created. The
seeming creatures which are now, throughout the universe, so
perpetually springing into being, can only be considered as the
mediate or indirect, not as the direct or immediate results of
the Divine creative power.
OINOS. Among men, my Agathos, this idea would be
considered heretical in the extreme.
AGATHOS. Among angels, my Oinos, it is seen to be
simply true.
OINOS. I can comprehend you thus far- that certain
operations of what we term Nature, or the natural laws, will,
under certain conditions, give rise to that which has all the
appearance of creation. Shortly before the final overthrow of
the earth, there were, I well remember, many very successful
experiments in what some philosophers were weak enough to
denominate the creation of animalculae.
AGATHOS. The cases of which you speak were, in
fact, instances of the secondary creation- and of the only
species of creation which has ever been, since the first word
spoke into existence the first law.
OINOS. Are not the starry worlds that, from the
abyss of nonentity, burst hourly forth into the heavens- are
not these stars, Agathos, the immediate handiwork of the
King?
AGATHOS. Let me endeavor, my Oinos, to lead you,
step by step, to the conception I intend. You are well aware
that, as no thought can perish, so no act is without infinite
result. We moved our hands, for example, when we were dwellers
on the earth, and, in so doing, gave vibration to the
atmosphere which engirdled it. This vibration was indefinitely
extended, till it gave impulse to every particle of the earth's
air, which thenceforward, and for ever, was actuated by the one
movement of the hand. This fact the mathematicians of our globe
well knew. They made the special effects, indeed, wrought in
the fluid by special impulses, the subject of exact
calculation- so that it became easy to determine in what
precise period an impulse of given extent would engirdle the
orb, and impress (for ever) every atom of the atmosphere
circumambient. Retrograding, they found no difficulty, from a
given effect, under given conditions, in determining the value
of the original impulse. Now the mathematicians who saw that
the results of any given impulse were absolutely endless- and
who saw that a portion of these results were accurately
traceable through the agency of algebraic analysis- who saw,
too, the facility of the retrogradation- these men saw, at the
same time, that this species of analysis itself, had within
itself a capacity for indefinite progress- that there were no
bounds conceivable to its advancement and applicability, except
within the intellect of him who advanced or applied it. But at
this point our mathematicians paused.
OINOS. And why, Agathos, should they have
proceeded?
AGATHOS. Because there were some considerations of
deep interest beyond. It was deducible from what they knew,
that to a being of infinite understanding- one to whom the
perfection of the algebraic analysis lay unfolded- there could
be no difficulty in tracing every impulse given the air- and
the ether through the air- to the remotest consequences at any
even infinitely remote epoch of time. It is indeed demonstrable
that every such impulse given the air, must, in the end,
impress every individual thing that exists within the
universe;- and the being of infinite understanding- the being
whom we have imagined- might trace the remote undulations of
the impulse- trace them upward and onward in their influences
upon all particles of an matter- upward and onward for ever in
their modifications of old forms- or, in other words, in their
creation of new- until he found them reflected- unimpressive at
last- back from the throne of the Godhead. And not only could
such a thing do this, but at any epoch, should a given result
be afforded him- should one of these numberless comets, for
example, be presented to his inspection- he could have no
difficulty in determining, by the analytic retrogradation, to
what original impulse it was due. This power of retrogradation
in its absolute fulness and perfection- this faculty of
referring at all epochs, all effects to all causes- is of
course the prerogative of the Deity alone- but in every variety
of degree, short of the absolute perfection, is the power
itself exercised by the whole host of the Angelic
intelligences.
OINOS. But you speak merely of impulses upon the
air.
AGATHOS. In speaking of the air, I referred only
to the earth; but the general proposition has reference to
impulses upon the ether- which, since it pervades, and alone
pervades all space, is thus the great medium of creation.
OINOS. Then all motion, of whatever nature,
creates?
AGATHOS. It must: but a true philosophy has long
taught that the source of all motion is thought- and the source
of all thought is-
OINOS. God.
AGATHOS. I have spoken to you, Oinos, as to a
child of the fair Earth which lately perished- of impulses upon
the atmosphere of the Earth.
OINOS. You did.
AGATHOS. And while I thus spoke, did there not
cross your mind some thought of the physical power of words? Is
not every word an impulse on the air?
OINOS. But why, Agathos, do you weep- and why, oh
why do your wings droop as we hover above this fair star- which
is the greenest and yet most terrible of all we have
encountered in our flight? Its brilliant flowers look like a
fairy dream- but its fierce volcanoes like the passions of a
turbulent heart.
AGATHOS. They are!- they are! This wild star- it
is now three centuries since, with clasped hands, and with
streaming eyes, at the feet of my beloved- I spoke it- with a
few passionate sentences- into birth. Its brilliant flowers are
the dearest of all unfulfilled dreams, and its raging volcanoes
are the passions of the most turbulent and unhallowed of
hearts.