Marshwigglian Musings
He famously (or infamously depending on your disposition) said, “Nothing wrong with me. Not a frog. Nothing frog with me. I’m a respectabiggle” and “Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all of those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones.”
He is of course C.S. Lewis’ fictional character, Puddleglum. He waded into my heart from the Wetlands of C.S. Lewis’ mind round about Chpt 5 of ‘The Silver Chair,’ where he first introduced himself by saying, “Puddleglum’s my name. But it doesn’t matter if you forget it.”
He’s a simmering caricature of pessimism and a bastion of gloomy fortitude with throw away lines like “I see you’re making the best of a bad job. That’s right. You’ve been well brought up, you have. You’ve learned to put a good face on things.” I admire a well placed throw away line, I’m useless at them myself which is why I admire it when I hear it. It’s comic timing at its best.
It was Tom Baker (the former 4th Dr Who) that really made me fall in love with the character Puddleglum the Marshwiggle in the BBC production of ‘The Silver Chair’. He seemed to me to portray him in a sufficiently adult way that might throw adults off the scent of him being an interesting though mostly grumpy ol’ toot whereas children, well, they know so many like him in that adult world that knowing one more probably isn’t a big deal.
Marshwiggles are taller than humans and have tough, leathery skin as attested to in the Giants’ Cook Book (in the castle of Harfang) where it is described as being “muddy-tasting,” and “stringy.” They live in clusters of wigwams near marshes, eat eels, and smoke a strange sort of tobacco with a smoke that is heavier than air; some say they mix their tobacco with mud.
I’m thinking the ancient Greek and Roman physicians and philosophers would had been quite perplexed by Puddleglum if they’d applied the Theory of Humour to him. Firstly, because he had none and secondly because I’m play’in with you! Essentially the theory held that the human body is filled with four basic substances called humors that are held in balance when a person is healthy. All diseases and disabilities resulted from an excess or deficit in one of those four humors.
These four humours corresponded to the four elements of earth, fire, water, and air. They were black bile, yellow bile, phlegm, and blood respectively. Greeks, Romans and the Western civilisations that adopted Classical philosophy believed that each of these humors would wax and wane in the body, depending on diet and activity. When a person had a surplus of one fluid, then that person’s personality, and eventually health, would be affected.
Theophrastus and others developed a set of “characters” based on the humors. Those with too much blood were sanguine. Those with too much phlegm were phlegmatic (personally I’d have picked Puddleglum for this category). Those with too much yellow bile were choleric, and those with too much black bile were melancholic. The idea of human personality based on humors contributed to the character comedies of Menander and later, Plautus. If they’d asked the children, they’d have said, he was just having an off day, they’re pretty astute like that!
He becomes the companion of Eustace and Jill as they search for Prince Rilian and is a somewhat unique character in Lewis’s works since he’s neither dashing nor charming, a great fighter nor a clever strategist. Yet he’s instrumental in breaking the Emerald Witch’s spell and releasing the Prince by stomping out her magical fire (badly injuring his foot in the process, though not as much as a normal human would, since his feet are webbed).
While the children initially (and not entirely without reason) consider him a “wet blanket” who removes the good from any situation, he proves to be a strong and steadfast companion, especially in Underland where he is all they have to cling to. It is Puddleglum who often spots the best course of action, and ultimately Puddleglum who wins the argument with the Lady.
Not every story has a lesson but I’m inclined to think this one does. To begin with and in theory, you and me wouldn’t give a Marshwiggle a second look walking down the main street of Waipukurau. Okay, so we might in a cursory, nod-in-the-direction of way. I have years of HR/Recruitment experience behind me and I’ve come to the conclusion that I can still be surprised by a person.
To a lesser degree, a Marshwiggle wouldn’t surprise me in a Psych test yet over the years many suited and stilettoed types have. Companies and the Public Service are top heavy with gatekeepers to the inner workplace sanctuary, many of them in my opinion are bad at their jobs. They’re mechanical but inefficient. Many wouldn’t give a Marshwiggle a second interview. I’m not one of them. Personally, I probably would as a wildcard. The lesson? A psych test is an evaluating tool, a signpost but who knows how people will cope in a sinking ship.
As the story goes and in the end maybe spending time with Eustace and Jill had an effect on Puddleglum. After Jill surprises him with a hug (and a kiss) as they part company Puddleglum remarks, “Well, I wouldn’t have dreamt of her doing that. Even though I am a good-looking chap.” Baker delivers the line totally deadpan and that’s probably why I fell in love with his portrayal.
I come from a long line of bad joke-tellers but when I least expect it I can deliver an observation that will get them rolling in the aisle. Deadpan or not, Marshwigglian observation is insightful and not without its inherent humour but best of all there’s a point to it. Like all of life’s little gems, usually they’re staring up at us through the dirt.
